"Broos?" He asked.
"Outside."
He knew the next answer, but he asked anyway. "How many fighting men are here?"
"My father and brother went hunting this morning and haven't come
back."
"I found them, sister. They won't be coming back, either, except as ghosts."
"I felt it when they died," she said. She looked up, sobbed, "goodbye
Voric. Goodbye papa."
She was crying.
Looking up at the smoke hole he limped around the fire to the woodpile and took an armload of wood and tinder and threw it on the flames, almost swooning with the action. His head throbbed. He had heard that feral broos were scared of fire. He hoped it wasn't just a story, that there was some truth in it.
"How close are the neighbors?"
She said, "the nearest neighbors are in Relshy. an hour away."
He paused a beat, ``Ever used a weapon?''
``I have hunted rabbits and deer with this bow.''
``Beautiful,'' he said. ``String it and plant the arrows in the ground so you can shoot more quickly. Stand there between the pots and the woodpile.'' Tactical principles and guidelines filled his head, from some source he couldn't identify, and he planned their strategy. ``I'll cover the door and this side of the fire.''
She strung the bow and then planted her arrows in the ground, keeping one eye on the door. She rubbed her tears with the back of her hand.
He went to the pile of skins and took one and wrapped it around himself, then took another one. She looked at him.
"Use the skins for armor. Two skins might be enough to stop a broo
spear."
Then he skirted the fire and took up his position. She armored herself with the furs and went back to her position by the woodpile. They waited.
He looked at her, nodding. She nocked an arrow and pointed it at the smoke-hole, her eyes wide. She was breathing through her mouth. So was he. This was what war felt like when there was enough time to get ready.
It was a cold night and Cherkus felt chills seeping deeper into his bones. He stamped his feet on the ground to keep warm.
Then there were broos banging on the door, and a tenor voice said ``come out, mommy.'' There were scrabbling sounds on the roof and then a broo jumped down into the cabin through the smoke-hole.
Ilmora's arrow impaled it's chest and it fell hard, sprawling half into the fire, scattering sparks all around the room.
Two more jumped in through the smoke-hole before Ilmora got another arrow ready, the big orange skinned one and a small one that charged directly at Cherkus's feet. The warrior swung hard and split its skull open like a gourd. It crumpled in a fountain of blood.
He pulled his sword out and charged at the orange broo, which had readied a spear for him. The broos at the door were still making a racket.
Ilmora shot another arrow through the smoke-hole, which was followed by a strangled scream and a thud. Thatching and mud fell off the ceiling. The broo that had fallen on the hearth started to burn with a weird green flame and vile smoke that stank of fresh battlefields.
Catching his breath Cherkus swung hard at the orange broo and his sword chopped clean through its left arm in a spray of blood. It stepped back and grinned and shook its arm at him. ``Poor baby's sword didn't work.'' Cherkus couldn't believe his eyes. Its arm was still there! He swung again and it blocked his attack, then attacked him and he parried furiously, barely stopping it. Its sharp antlers swung at him and scraped his shoulder through the hides.
As Ilmora nocked another arrow a broo jumped in and landed somewhere behind Cherkus, and it scuttled towards the door. ``The door! Stop it!'' she coughed through the foul smoke and moved past the jars, closer to Cherkus and the broo.
Cherkus dodged away from the orange broo's vicious strike then spun and charged towards the door, holding his sword before him like a spear. The broo's clumsy thrust glanced off his tang and the tip of his sword found the beast-man's heart. He spun around quickly, just in time to duck the orange broo's slashing spear.
Crouching and blocking he parried one then another attack and as he backed away a feathered shaft sprouted in the monster's back. Orange broo reached for the arrow and snapped it off and laughed, "Arrows no good either. No more fight. You know me always. We be friends long time."
Cherkus was looking in its eyes, and they were horrible and fascinating. He was very tired, and somehow happy from exertion. It was wonderful to fight and to not-fight, both. Orange broo understood how wonderful fighting was. Maybe he could make friends, be happy with the broos like, like someone, he forgot exactly who, but someone had been smiling with the broos so it must be fine. Orange broo was smiling at him and nodding its head. It knew what he was thinking.
The girl screamed and shot an arrow that missed and almost hit Cherkus. He watched numbly as the horror advanced, its eyes on him. He was very happy now and too tired to fight. His sword arm drooped and the tip of the blade touched the dirt floor.
There was a second broo in the cabin, next to the nice orange one.
Orange broo pointed at his sword, and he dropped it. Nice broo with pretty eyes. Good friends now. Something right, but something wrong. Danger to his new friend.
The second broo stabbed its spear into the back of its orange leader, and the leader screamed. Stab and stab again and again into its leaders back, again and again as Cherkus wanted to protect his orange friend, thought of his sword on the floor and how he should get it, and then the orange broo howled, blood bursting from its mouth, raising its arms and spear towards the ceiling, and the pleasant lethargy that was immobilizing Cherkus lifted.
He began chanting his strongest battle charm as he knelt to grasp his sword. The power filled him through the sword hilt. Swinging his blade about his head he stepped forward to attack the orange broo, and then his sword hacked deep into the base of its neck and torso, almost splitting it in half.
The orange broo bellowed savagely, deafeningly, and the noise from outside stopped. Its screams grew louder. Cherkus and the girl put their hands to their ears and backed away. A mist of fine black bubbles, shaking in sympathy with the sound, seeped into the air around the orange broo, and then forming into a jiggling mass of coherent darkness the bubbles flew through the roof, scattering mud and splinters and thatching all over the room.
Slowly the corpse of the orange broo collapsed in pieces to the floor. All its wounds blossomed at once, and its hideous corpse dissolved in blood and gore.
The lone surviving broo said in a low voice, "Now me boss. We go." Then it leapt straight up, through the smoke-hole. The noise of scrabbling hooves went down the side of the roof. The sound of broo laughter exploded outside, and then faded.
It was quiet except for sobbing. ``Voric, poor Voric,'' she cried. ``You were too good to die at their hands.'' She had a madness in her eyes.
Cherkus went around the house, making sure the other broos were all dead, ``Ilmora, are you hurt?''
"No, but I can't take it."
The madness in her face was not as strong as her brother's. "You can take it," he said. Then another chill swept over him, and he fell and sat down hard on the floor.
"You're hurt."
"Yes" he nodded, "and sick." He hugged himself tightly, pulling the
skins close around him and watching her to see what she would
choose. The room reeked of diseased smoke and seared flesh.
Gradually, as he watched her, the madness cleared from her eyes. He coughed from the smoke and bent over, retching. She rose and pulled him to his feet and they stumbled out of the house.
She said, "There's a healer in Relshy."
They walked together for hours, Cherkus leaning heavily on her shoulder, his sword leaving a scratchy trail behind them, with a wide and real grin on his face.
"You know a guy could get real used to leaning on you like this," he
grimaced.
Her eyes glanced sideways at him, "When you're better you're going to leave. To where?"
"South, into Brolia. They always want Kaurmeiny tacticians for the
dart wars, and I could use a friend who knows how to handle herself in
a fight."
For three days the black robed crone tended him with Deezola's blessings and magics, telling him all the time how lucky he was to have survived the diseases carried by such strong spirits. On the fourth day he and Ilmora went with her nearest neighbors to the place where he had found her father and brother. They collected what they could find of the remains and burned them in a bonfire on the bald top of a hill under the huge red moon. They watched the fire in quiet horror as dying broo maggots burrowed out of the burning torso and collapsed in the flames.
She said to him, "I have no family and no country. All I have is my self. I am going with you."
"Then we will go to Brolia and find something worth the search."
In the morning Cherkus Khoopteny of Rudjypeg said goodbye to Relshy and walked to the river to cross to Brolia. Tears ran down Ilmora's cheeks.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Ilmora. It's been a tough week."
She choked back a sob, "Yes it has."
He said, "I think I see some hope over that range of hills."
He took her hand and helped her into the boat, then took the pole and pushed off from shore, towards Brolia and more adventures.
End of The Glorantha Digest V7 #405
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