Kobolds Chapter 3 (Pre-Submission)

Chapter 3


The sun rose on another day in the wastes. For a moment, Shrike just lay there, and tried to imagine that he was in his own bed, snug and warm under the heavy covers. He shuffled a little, and the fantasy was shattered as powdery snow trickled off his coat onto the tip of his snout. He also noticed to his displeasure that the tip of his tail had gone completely numb.
Shrike opened one eye, and then the other, squinting slightly against the sunlight, slightly dazzled by its reflection off the snow and ice. He rolled over and saw Ros, who was still asleep. She had made the clever choice of sleeping with her back to the sun. For a moment Shrike thought of just lying there, but then he remembered where they were going today. He was going home.
With a groan Shrike climbed to his feet and stretched, and glanced at the plain of white before of him. It was just as featureless as it had been the night before, but no less cold. Shrike shivered quietly and wandered over to Ros prodding her with a talloned foot.
‘Get up.’
Ros opened a bleary eye and yawned, rolled onto her side and began to crawl out from under her furs. Soon she was on her feet and saddling up the horse, who looked particularly cold and dejected despite its dark shaggy hair. Ros crooned to it under her breath as she tied the saddle back into place and it looked slightly less woeful.
‘Neat trick’, Shrike commented, watching her.
She shrugged and climbed onto the horse. Shrike followed, and took the hand offered to hoist him up behind her. One thing he noticed as they departed the cap site was that this saddle really wasn’t big enough for two, however small that pair might be. Ros swayed gently in time to the rocking of the horse. Shrike almost bounced up in the saddle with every step, and decided that he’d almost rather walk. Almost.
The sun rose higher and higher into the crisp air as they rode. Still the scenery was the same. Bleak, and featureless. They could do nothing but follow the sun, and make their journey from there.
The sun was at it’s peak by the time Ros decided to stop and have brunch. Shrike felt sore again, and knew that he would have bruises by the time he lay down to sleep that night.
He was just finishing his share of meat and bread while eyeing up the remains of Rosmond’s portion, when he heard a gasp from behind him. He whipped round and saw Ros pointing at something in the distance. Shrike squinted, trying to make it out but all he could see was a blurry outline in the distance, to him just a splodge of dark colours.
‘Mammoths.’ Rosmond stated, simply.
Shrike wished his eyesight was clearer. He strained his neck as though that might sharpen the image.
‘What are they doing?’ He asked.
‘What do you think they’re doing? They’re grazing.’
Ros threw him a quick glance.
‘How can you not see?’
‘Don’t have eyes like you humans have do I?’ Shrike snapped, ‘Normally kobolds live underground, we don’t need to see long distance.’
Ros’s eyes followed the creatures until they became specks in the distance. Shrike had already lost interest, and was pacing again.
I’ll take the horse now, He thought, I thought we were in a hurry?
Rosmond reluctantly climbed back onto the horse and helped Shrike up behind her. Soon even the specks in the distance vanished over the horizon. The only sign that they had made any distance at all. Shrike began to ache again. He tried to take his mind of things by thinking of his favourite things. The clink of money, the thrill of deception, the tie he had once escaped a search party of thirty people by hiding in a well. That had been in one of the other holds, one before Border Marsh.
Maybe it was Barrow… or the Throat…
Shrike had lost count of the places he had run to. Back and forth like a boomerang, always orbiting one spot: Home.
But then the horse crested a hill, and at last a landmark could be seen. Rising up in the distance rose a jagged line of mountains that seemed to cut the sky.
Shrike tapped Ros and pointed.
‘That’s the spine.’ He informed her. ‘Which means,’ His arm dropped a little to point at a hill, on top of which a pile of stones could just be seen poking out from the snow.
‘That’s home’.
Ros turned to look at him.
‘You were right.’
‘Did you ever doubt me?’ Shrike asked quizzically,
‘I wasn’t sure. You didn’t seem too trustworthy from your reputation.’
Shrike laughed, ‘I guess so, yeah.’
And so they trotted down the hill and for once, they had a real, not forced or requested, conversation. As she chatted to him and the mound grew nearer Shrike discovered more about her than he had so far.
It transpired that she had grown up in Border Marsh with her mother. She had never known her father, who had vanished in her first Wet season, and never returned. Her mother was a scryer, and so spent much of her time trying to achieve a trance deep enough to have a vision, although Ros had never put any fate in her predictions since she was very small.
‘So, I guess it was her that put you onto Angvar then?’ Shrike asked.
Ros suddenly looked slightly uneasy.
‘Sort of. She had a vision. Not a clear one, but a vision.’ She looked up at the sky, avoiding Shrike’s eyes.
‘She saw him rising apparently.’
‘I thought you said that you didn’t trust her visons?’ Shrike questioned. He had a suspicion that he was on touchy ground, and wanted to see how far he could worm the secret out.’
‘No, I don’t, but, you know…’
Her voice trailed away.
‘I don’t, but fine then.’ I’ll have to wait a while, and then try again. Shrike thought.
Ros tugged at the reins and the horse slowed to a halt at the base of the hill.
‘Where to from here?’ Ros asked, looking for any sign of an entrance.
Shrike grinned. ‘Only way is down.’
For the first time, Shrike, slid off the horse without help and made for a spot a few paces up the hill. Bending down, he slid several rotting planks out from under the snow, revealing a narrow tunnel. He glanced back at Ros, who looked confused.
‘Had to hide the entrance see, didn’t want anyone wandering in.’
‘But,’ Ros said after a moment, ‘How does the horse get in?’
For a moment Shrike looked taken aback, his tail beat at the snow, making deep imprints.
‘Why would we need the horse?’
‘We can’t just leave him here!’ Ros gasped, ‘He’ll die in the snow, what if he’s taken by a sabre cat? What about when we set out again?’
Shrike reeled under the questions, and took a moment to decide which one to answer first.
‘We don’t need horses where we’re going Ros. It’s underground from here on out. We can take the tunnels from here. We’ll get there a lot faster.’
Shrike knew that it was essential for Ros to reach Angvar before the wet season, and how important she thought this was. But obviously couldn’t bring herself to leave the horse.
The mental battle was visible on her face. At last, with a reluctant slowness, she swung herself off the horse and untied the saddle straps.
‘Won’t need those where you’re going Bay.’
Shrike ignored the discovery of the horse’s name. He was grateful to it, but knew that it was essential that the horse was sent away.
At last Ros stood, clutching her bag under one arm, looking deep into the shaggy little horse’s eyes.
‘Go on,’ She murmured to it. ‘Go’
The horse looked at her, almost as if he could understand every word. Horses had got more brains than they get credit for, Shrike reflected.
It gave Ros a long, baleful look, before turning and plodding away. Ros looked away quickly, and looked determinately at the ground.
‘Let’s go.’ She muttered, sniffing.