CHAPTER 1.28 - RETURN TO HIGHBARROW

The group approaches the village under a pall of silence.  Hugo has to admit his is sullen, at least in part.  Anuk’s contempt for him is clear, unmitigated by his apologies and attempts to explain himself.  Obviously, he can’t come right out and say “I was trying not to be quite so useless” so he tried to highlight how they could all benefit from his new ring.  Of course, the circuitous weasel words tasted fake even to him.  A feeble attempt to couch his failure as a benefit.  And somehow her frown was not turned upside down.  Perfect.

He can’t plead his case further, as dusk was breaking by the time Hugo could trust his quivering legs to bear him unassisted.  Rian, he believed, wasn’t bearing a grudge but the man would not tolerate a lot of chat while navigating in the dark.  Not that Hugo could have successfully ingratiated himself to Anuk.  He also felt their guide was treating him like he was so witless he couldn’t have guessed that a pile of carrion left in the forest would attract scavengers.  This caused Hugo a little more umbrage despite the fact that analysis was true.

But Thae was steaming him most of all.  His religious friend was the epitome of forgiveness and grace, supporting him through his own idiocy.  To the point where it was only after half an hour of trudging with his excuses trapped behind the cage of his teeth that Hugo realised the cleric hadn’t mentioned that shooting flames at the corpse pile might have been disrespectful to the dead.  Couldn’t Thae just deal straight, reprimand him?  Somehow the half-elf’s forgiveness was nettling him more than Anuk’s disdain.

He's been simmering for what feels like hours when they finally break through the treeline above Highbarrow.  Hugo feels a small pang to find that, even in the dark, Rian has led them back nearly exactly to where Night had guided them.  He feels the beast’s jaws enclosing his head, another ‘weak link’ moment cutting into him.

He almost screams an obscenity when he feels the arrow shoot past his left shoulder.  It’s from a much sharper angle than Atheran’s previous volley, therefore shocking enough that his natural instinct to silence and stealth is almost overruled by his rage.  His group…the group?…senses the projectile whistling past them, heightens their alertness.  Hugo, scaning the direction from which it came, is surprised to see the silhouette of the old woman actively waving to them from the shadows down the hill.

As they approach, Atheran’s silhouette resolves into a mime for silence, her pose deeply troubled.  Hugo feels his frustration chill towards fear, something formless but sharp.  His anxiety is enhanced by his certainty that the woman has seen the children.  It doesn’t appear to improve her mood one bit. 

They’re following the elder along a little track clinging to the side of the slope.  Behind him, Hugo can hear the kids stirring, coming awake to Rian softly urging them to silence.  Atheran’s focusing on the narrow strip of path, her stiff leg constantly threatening to land badly, pitch her down the steep face.  His unanswered questions combine with the tension of the last few hours into a ball of pressure behind his eyes.  He notices that his jaw is already painful from clenching.

Just as he feels ready to burst, Atheran disappears into a hollow Hugo is certain would be invisible from the village it overlooks.  He follows her into a shallow cave, less than 15’ wide but into which they can all cram.  Just.  Hunched in the furthermost corner is a lithe man in his 20s, similar in stature and garb to the hunter, Marek, from earlier this morning.  His bow was obviously drawn until he recognised Atheran.  The man – boy, really – looks pale, his right leg sticking out in front of him.  A blood-soaked rag is tied over the thigh, explaining his awkward pose.  Thae, wordlessly, pushes through them to kneel at the young man’s side, fingers already aglow with healing magic. 

Turning back to Atheran, Hugo reads something personal in her scowl.  Whatever has her uptight, he’s certain they’re to blame.  His headache pounds as he wonders what more could have gone wrong.  The woman wastes no time in laying out her grievance.

“About an hour after yez set off we was jumped by a bunch of fookin…”  She doesn’t get to finish, nor even properly to wind up her fury as Rian quietly rumbles “Bandits?”  The woman shakes her head, more exhausted and demoralised than angry.  “Oi fookin’ knew youse were bad news.  We’re normally too small to be any real use to those feckers, and enough of a pain in the arse that they’d not choose to pick a fight.  But right now?  They gathered oos up and locked oos dewn, easy as ye loike.”  Atheran stares across to the hunter, his breath calming as his bandage becomes visibly drier, colour returning to his cheeks. 

The sight of Thae’s work, of the restoration of her ally, causes the woman to miss a beat.  She speaks more evenly as she says: “Me an’ Durn here’re the only ones got clear.”  She sighs, offers a tight smile to the children looking up at her owlishly.  “Pardon moi language.  Oi see yez got Erin and Joral back, youse alroit?”  The latter to the kids.  They both nod uncertainly, obviously having never seen their Elder so incandescent.

Atheran inhales deeply, blows out an audible breath in an effort to balance her emotions.  As she does so, Durn thanks Thae, voice brimming with emotion.  The hunter’s trying to get to his feet, the cleric’s strong but gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay seated.  Thae looks round at them, face full of complex emotions.  The most prominent is a question. 

Unbidden, Hugo begins speaking.  As he opens his mouth, he’s not even fully clear what he intends to say.  Never mind whether or not the rest would heed him.  “Atheran…” he begins, immediately put off-balance as the woman sneers “What is it, yer Hoiness?”

He takes a breath but pushes onwards.  “I’m not a prince.  I’m not even a gnome, I’m just a f…”  He remembers the children, detours “…a failure.”  He gestures to his group.  Rian and Thae are staring at him intently.  Again, unbelievably, they seem interested rather than scornful.  Anuk looks absent, her eyes locked on the rear wall of the hollow.  Her ignorance is no surprise.

“We really wanted to help, and we think we have, but we should have told you.  We ran afoul of these bandits a few days ago, and a man who hired them.”  He sees a flash of anger in Atheran’s eyes.  Not at him, he thinks, but at the mention of the townie.  Questioningly, he proceeds: “Older guy, not dressed for the weather?  White goatee, red cloak?”  As he rhymes off the description he sees her recognition of each point.  He is, however, surprised by the wicked smile growing on her face. 

“He WAS here but…”  Durn, now sitting more restfully butts in, a laugh in his voice.  “Atheran parted his hair with an arrow, from clear across the village.”  The boy sounds impressed, but Hugo can see Atheran’s face twist with displeasure.  Is certain the woman resents that she didn’t end Perasta then and there.  This despite the boy’s hallowed description of her shot.  The woman practically spits: “He’s not here now, little bastard farted and fooked off.” 

Hugo reads a mix of fear and amusement in the childrens’ faces, notes Atheran wincing as she remembers her audience.  He winks at Joral, the boy’s expression full of mirth, and addresses Atheran kindly.  “Aye, well, he will do that.”

“We’re going to put this right, Atheran.”  As he speaks, he can see Thae’s approval, feels Rian straighten and nod behind him.  Anuk seems oblivious, staring into the strange sheet of white rock poking through the soil at the back of the overhang.  He’s grateful she’s distracted, it’s much easier to sound certain, brave, without the heat of her judgement upon him.  “But we can’t put the children in danger.  Besides, if we fail, we need you and Durn to get help from elsewhere.”

He feels his voice peter out at this point, cursing the fumble on an otherwise strong dismount. But then Thae and Rian sweep in to camouflage him, both asking questions at the same time then cutting off to allow the other to speak.  They want details from the locals, the state of play in the village.

-x-

As they bade Durn and the children a quiet farewell, Hugo had realised that Anuk was still absorbed in the rear wall of the overlook.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any of this regular, white stone anywhere else in the forest.  But for the love of the gods they had greater concerns right now.  Before his survival instinct could kick in, Hugo had called to her.  He thought his world might end when Anuk, jumping at her name, immediately did…something weird.  A sparking, floating ball manifested where her hands had been before she startled, an arc of power lancing into the dirt to one side of the white stone.  As peace returned to the group, realising they weren’t under attack, hadn’t blown their cover, Hugo watched the spark as it carved a rectangular path through the mud.  Her excavation uncovered a seam around what turned out to be a tall slab moored into the wall.  “Of course!” he reasoned out loud “…there’s a reason they called the place ‘Highbarrow.’”

Atheran, of course, had insisted on accompanying them, even before Anuk made them appear quite so unhinged.  In part, the woman was untrusting of the group’s assurances they’d drive off the bandits without harm to their prisoners.  Marek had been wounded when the brigands had come for Rach and Jeran, but not for drawing on them.  The lad had seen their superior numbers and judged he’d put his charges in more danger with a fight he couldn’t possibly win.  Sadly, the twitchy intruders had taken his mere possession of a bow as threat.  Thus, when the young man had surrendered to them, they beat him into unconsciousness. 

Hugo reads guilt on Atheran, the woman hopeful but uncertain whether the hunter still lived.  One way or the other, he was transferred to the Hunter’s Hall, where other villagers were imprisoned.  The bulk of the bandits are there too; inside the most fortified building the settlement has to offer.

Hugo’s grateful for the accuracy of Atheran’s reconnaissance.  While she had a good handle on the position of most of the bandits, a few of their number are roaming the village.  They obviously hadn’t wanted the headache of gathering up all souls.  Nor the risk of concentrating them all in one place, so three of the bandits’ number are currently patrolling around the settlement.

Hugo smirks.  Two now.  As they made their stealthy way down the hill, one of the men had become visible between a pair of houses, craning into a lit window.  More than 100’ away from the bandit, Atheran had drawn her bow and fired without seeming to aim at all.  He had been ready to sprint, to try to cover an impossible span of ground to assist but realised that was unnecessary from the way the man had crumpled. 

That puts Atheran’s count to nine. Two more out in the village, seven in the hall.  They’re not very organised, however, and the stragglers seem ensconced in the Smithy.  Bertak, the Smith, has been pressed into labour mending the bandits’ weapons.  Plus, the building sports an inviting glow in the chill of the autumn night. 

They have discussed this.  Neither Thae nor Atheran can risk approaching too close to the forge.  Not least, the disposition of the bandits may have changed while they were huddled in the overhang discussing strategy.  The group, split into two, has huddled at the corners of the buildings closest to the smithy. 

It’s Hugo’s turn now.  He feels the flutter in his stomach, tries to suppress the worry that this plan is overcompensation for his earlier feelings of helplessness.  As he approaches the glow, still shielded from the open hearth of the forge by the larger adjoining building where Bertak lives, his instincts urge him to flee.  It would blow the plan, but the plan’s untested.  And if it does blow up, Hugo thinks, it’ll be into my face.  He tries not to ponder the fact that he left Three in Thae’s gentle hands.  Prudence, he hopes, rather than a certainty that he won’t survive.