An excerpt from The Creature of the Baradoons. Written by Jeremy Lee Riley, with illustrations by Dar Parsons.
I. RAVEN’S
END
As
Recorded in the Journal
of
Dr. Demetre Jaeger
in
the year 1361 AE
The
dying man was discovered by a group of farmers and brought to my
office here in the town of Raven’s End.
I
had just finished my final appointment and was about to close the
office for an hour so that I might slip over to Roseby's Saloon for a
couple of drinks. It had been a relatively slow day consisting of a
sprained ankle, a minor cooking burn, and a fractured arm from
falling off a ladder. Nothing that would throw the town into turmoil
should their only doctor decide to drown his boredom in a schooner of
ale and a slice of Momma Roseby's mishmash pie.
I
was fishing through my pockets for the keys to the front door when it
crashed open, missing my face by mere inches. The farmers hurried in,
a half-dozen at least, and all sharing the same panicked expression.
In their arms was a writhing, screaming man drenched in blood.
My
first thought was that one of the farmers had fallen into the
combine. It wouldn't be the first time such a tragedy had occurred.
But I quickly recovered my senses and noted that the injuries
appeared to be the result of a vicious attack, most likely from a
wild animal.
The
farmers were all speaking at once, some nearly shouting in order to
be heard over the man’s screams. Their foreman, a broad-shouldered
giant named Huy, quieted them with a curt bark and then quickly
explained to me what had happened.
"We
was working the fields near the foothills. Séamus saw him first. He
was staggering along, barely able to walk. Looked like he'd come down
outta the mountains, but—"
"Never
mind that right now," I said. "Just get him on the table
and hold him." I
rummaged through the cabinets for my supplies while Huy and the
others heaved the man onto the operating table. They wrestled with
his flailing limbs, keeping him still long enough for me to
administer a sedative. Once it took effect and the man had quieted I
asked Huy to finish his story.
"He
was screaming something 'bout his village. Don’t know what he
meant, he wasn’t making much sense. We did what we could to stop
the bleeding but, gods, there's just…” Huy shot a queasy glance
at the man on the table. “There's so much blood."
I
ushered the farmers out the door with instructions to fetch the town
magistrate at once. I knew he’d want to see this. Once alone I
washed my hands and then removed the patient's clothing for a better
look at his wounds.
My
initial assumption appeared correct. The man had been mauled by some
sort of animal. He had suffered lacerations and punctures to his
head, neck, left shoulder, torso and left thigh. The wounds looked to
have been made by a carnivore with a jaw measuring around a foot
in width and a foot-and-a-half in length. The fact that he could
have sustained such injuries and still be drawing breath, no matter
how increasingly shallow, was truly remarkable.
The
man was shivering uncontrollably. With the amount of blood he had
lost he must have been freezing from the inside out. I needed to
restore his blood volume, increase the hemoglobin levels. But with
the primitive equipment at my disposal there wasn’t much I could
do. I didn’t even have a means of determining his blood type.
Perhaps if I was home behind the protective walls of Elysium I could
save him, but out here in these wastes his chances were next to nil.
The
man groaned and muttered something under his breath. Gently, I leaned
in close and asked what sort of animal had done this to him. His
shivering became more violent, his breathing more erratic. He let out
a high-pitched wail and clawed at my shirt with a trembling hand. I
took his hand in both of mine and told him that everything was going
to be okay. The most important thing for him to do right now was to
rest and regain his strength. The man responded with a
heart-wrenching sob.
I
let go of his hand and turned to see town magistrate Whelan Daumier
standing in the doorway. He was a tall, bearded man with a robust
frame and a mane of graying blonde hair that hung shy of his broad
shoulders. His faded blue eyes peered at me from the leathery folds
of his sunburned face.
Whelan
had been the magistrate of Raven’s End for going on twenty years.
He and I had been friends for most of that time. He was one of the
few decent people I’d met out in these wastes. Honorable to a fault
and dead serious about his profession, he did not play favorites when
it came to upholding the law in his town. I had learned that the hard
way when he once locked me up for public intoxication.
Whelan
nodded to me and had himself a look at the patient. “Heard the
farmers found him wandering through the fields,” he said. “Heard
he was losing blood by the bucket loads. How’s he still alive?”
“He
barely is,” I replied. “Frankly, I’ll be surprised if he
survives the night.”
The
man let out another moan. Whelan cleared his throat and shot me a
sidelong glance. “Can he...can he hear us?”
“I
doubt it. He’s pretty far gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he—”
“CREATURE!”
The man jerked his head forward, screaming in our direction. “IT
CAME IN THE NIGHT! IT KILLED 'EM ALL! CREATURE! CAME IN THE NIGHT!
EVERYONE’S….dead.”
The
man’s voice cracked on the last word. Having used up the last of
his strength he laid his head back on the table, let out a shuddering
sob, and grew still. I checked for a pulse.
“Is
he…?” Whelan began.
“Aye,”
I said.
“What
was he going on about?”
I
was silent for a moment as I pieced the story together in my mind.
The picture that began to form was less than encouraging. “The
farmers said he came from the mountains. There’s a small village up
there, as I’m sure you know.”
“Wait,”
Whelan said, “are you saying that whatever did this to this man
also attacked the Taivan Village?”
The
village in question was a tiny community established in the Baradoons
by the Taivi mountain dwellers over a century ago. They stopped in
town from time to time to trade goods and stock up on provisions. The
general lot tended to be clannish and secretive, interacting with the
townspeople only when necessary. This had not won them many friends
with the locals.
I
retrieved a sheet from the closet and draped it over the body. “You
heard his final words, the same as I. ‘Everyone’s dead’. What
else could it mean?”
Whelan’s
face paled. “Gods, Demetre, I’ve kin up there.”
“I
know,” I said. “Let’s pray it was an overstatement on this poor
fellow’s part. He was hardly in a rational frame of mind.”
“Maybe
so, but something chewed him up and spat him back out. Crazy or not,
he went through an awful lot to warn us.”
I
shook my head. “Let’s say some kind of creature did attack the
village. There’s no way it could wipe out everyone. The villagers
have weapons, they have the numbers. There’s just no way.”
Whelan
looked a little relieved. “Maybe you’re right. But why didn’t
more people show up here? My son, he would’ve brought his family to
town first thing.”
The
thought had crossed my mind as well. Whelan’s son, Gerald, had
married Abelia, daughter of Ahren, the village’s chieftain. By law
Abelia was not permitted to leave her mountain home, so Gerald became
a member of the clan. They had a daughter, Branda, two years ago.
Gerald had a good head on his shoulders. If trouble had befallen the
village he would’ve been the first to get his family out.
“Maybe
he was afraid to make the long journey here with his daughter in
tow,” I said. “Those mountains can be treacherous, even to an
experienced climber.”
Whelan
ran his fingers through his beard, lost in thought. At last, he said,
“This guy’s gotta be full of it. There’s no way one animal
could wipe out an entire village.”
“The
man did say it attacked in the night, right?”
Whelan’s
brow furrowed. “I think so. What about it?”
“Well,
the villagers would’ve been asleep for the most part. They would’ve
been caught off guard. The village isn’t that big. There’s what,
forty-five…fifty people up there? They would’ve been disoriented,
disorganized. Easy prey.”
“Are
you saying they were eaten?”
“Maybe.
Whatever did this to this man is enormous. Didn’t you see the size
of his wounds?” I pulled back the sheet to allow Whelan another
look at the dead man’s ravaged body. “Naturally, it didn’t eat
everyone at once. Maybe it simply killed them and is saving the
others for later. You know it’s rather cold up in the mountains
this time of year, so the bodies would be well preserved for—”
“Enough!”
Whelan slapped a box of bandages off the counter and stepped to the
open door for some air. “Gods, my family may be dead and here you
are talking about them like they’re a frozen supper.”
I
mentally kicked myself for my insensitivity. “I could be wrong,”
I said. “I am just theorizing, after all. I mean, the only way we
can be certain is if we go up there and see for ourselves.”
Whelan
didn’t answer for some time. He leaned against the door frame,
staring out at the mountains that towered over the town like a
giant's hand reaching for the heavens. The Baradoons rose along the
northern border of Eulimi, separating the region from neighboring
Nabron. It was one of the largest mountain ranges in the known world.
Its five peaks, Tos, Nambre, Haelia, Vair, and L'Deia, varied in
height, with its tallest, Nambre, around nine-thousand meters high.
The
Baradoons were shrouded in mystery, and was the stuff of legends even
during the Age of Kings. It was once believed that the mountains were
home to the sky god, Valdueis, who watched over all from his great
throne high atop Nambre's summit.
Raven's
End was founded by miners near the southeastern base of L'Deia half a
century ago. The iron ore they extracted from the rock was lucrative
enough to attract other prospectors, and with them came the usual
assortment of boomtown followers, including families, merchants,
saloon owners, whores, religious fanatics, and broken men looking for
a fresh start.
The
town flourished, becoming one of the richest in the Deadlands. This
was due in part to adventurers and explorers who came from all over
to brave the Baradoons' treacherous terrain and attempt to chart its
many nooks and crannies, pouring much of their wealth into the town’s
economy in the meantime.
The
mountains have never been mapped entirely. Unpredictable weather,
treacherous terrain and unexpected mishaps were to blame for that.
Explorers have died, been injured, disappeared, or just given up and
returned home in frustration.
Many
have told stories of strange occurrences in the dead of night; the
sound of footsteps outside their tents, accompanied by strange,
guttural sounds. Their pack animals have been found slaughtered and
their supplies strewn for miles up the mountainside. Some even claim
to have seen hairy beast-men watching them from far off distances.
I
have always taken such tall tales with the proverbial grain of salt.
Sounds in the night could be any manner of wildlife, from shadow cats
to wolves. As for the beast-men; if I had to guess, I would say they
were the product of mass hysteria brought on by altitude sickness or
the irrational need to believe in something that wasn't really there.
But
that was before Huy and his companions had brought the Taivi man into
my office. His death had created more questions than answers. Most
prominent among them was what sort of creature could have caused such
fatal injuries?
The
mountains were vast; any number of undiscovered species could have
flourished there, free of our interference. But the Taivi had lived
in these mountains for generations without any harm coming to them.
Could a whole village have truly fallen prey to this thing overnight?
Even
if that was possible, why the sudden attacks? Had the creature
entered their territory in search of food? Had the Taivi instigated
the attacks somehow? Or was the dead man on my table its only victim,
his ravings about a ravaged village the product of a traumatized
mind?
So
many questions. My overworked mind couldn’t settle on just one.
Whelan
drew a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh before turning to
face me. He was doing his best to remain calm, but concern for his
family was playing havoc on his nerves. "I'm going up there,"
he whispered. Once he had spoken the words out loud a sense of
urgency came over him. He grabbed my coat and shoved it into my hands
as he steered me towards the door. "It's my duty to go. I'll put
together an expedition and we'll see if this man's story is true or
not."
"And
if it is?" I asked.
Fire
danced in Whelan's eyes. "Then so help me I'll hunt this
creature into extinction!"
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-creature-of-the-baradoons-dar-parsons/1116391816?ean=2940148651727
Copyright, 2012, Jeremy Lee Riley, Wamingo Publishing. All rights reserved.
Copyright, 2012, Jeremy Lee Riley, Wamingo Publishing. All rights reserved.
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