Derik's Story

Freedom and revenge   

For two days we were tied to the stake. The Pict kept us alive giving us water at least three times a day. Blindfolded throughout the course nothing was to be seen. Though what I heard would scar my very soul for the rest of my life. Screams of pain came from Crazy Joe both afternoons. The crack of a whip could not be heard nor could the smell of searing flesh be smelled. My imagination to what they were doing to him ran wild. The drums still beat off and on during the day as if to call upon the gods to the settle what was to become of us. The morning of the second day I heard Joe moan to my left. Gaspar to my right muffled a word through his gag. Then Joe began to speak. “My friends what ever the Pict do to us this day promise me that one of us will live to take revenge on them. They have soaked a leather straps and placed them on the limbs of my body to dry and shrink in the sun. Even if we could escape I would only hinder your movement I fear my limbs are dead.” His words stopped abruptly with the coming of shuffling of feet.  Smoke began to fill the air as preparations were being made. Anger and fear swelled up within me like a wild fire. The drums began their beating once again. From Joe’s stake I heard him cry in pain as they released his bonds and let his body fall to the ground. I heard them drag him away from us to be placed somewhere in front of us.

Then the nightmare that happened to Joe now began to happen to Gaspar and myself. Two Pict held us still as a third began to tie wet leather straps around my head, under my arms, and between my legs to wrap around my hips and groin. Gaspar let out muffled yells as he tried to wriggle free. Suddenly I heard a thud and his sounds were quiet. The thought of the pain enraged me more as I then struggled with my bonds.

   As the morning wore on the beat of the drums began to increase. The shuffling of feet moved in circles around us. Someone was dancing with the rhythm of the drums. As the heat of the sun began to dry the leather straps I flexed my muscles to try to keep them from shrinking too quickly. My head throbbed where the one on my forehead could not be stretched. An hour passed as the drums beat like a faster and faster. Still more dancing and more pain shot through my limbs and forehead. I heard Gaspar spit as his gag was removed, then cry out in pain. 

    Suddenly my blindfold too was removed along with my gag. My eyes teared up in the brightness of the sun. For the second time I saw the shaman.  His head was covered in a feathered headdress, His face Painted as a skull. His torso and limbs were painted in scales and his ankles and wrists were adorned in feathered bracelets. I looked into his dark almost black eyes. It was like staring in to a lifeless corpse. No anger, no passion, nor any feeling could be found in those eyes. He backed away from me and began to dance again. His body wriggled and swayed from side to side hopping on one leg then switching to his other to hop and move about the dirt clearing. His muscles rippled and flexed as sweat covered him. It gave the appearance of glistening scales like that of a serpent.

   I scanned the surroundings, my eyes now becoming more accustomed to the light of day. I saw Gaspar to my right with a wound on his breast that was trickling a trail of blood down his ribs. In front of me, about twenty paces, stood a crude stone alter stained brown from dried blood it atop it lay Crazy Joe. His waist, legs, and arms were an ash gray streaked with lines of green where his veins once held flowing blood. His forehead was encircled with an open wound where the strap had cut into his scalp. To my far left stood two Pict tied to a stake in the same manner as we were. Each stake was placed in a semi circle around the alter. Beyond the alter a fire pit billowed smoke and beyond that were two score Pict seated in a semi circle facing us. Some beat on various sized drums. Others sat swaying from side to side. All were adorned in ceremonial garb and paint.  It then hit me that we were to be sacrificed. The ceremony consisted of a full circle of Pict and captives. Centered in the circle stood the alter atop of which lay the first to be sacraficed... Crazy Joe.

    Minutes passed as the drums urged the shaman to a faster pace. Fevered chanting came from his lips then suddenly the circle broke. The Pict opened up the circle to my far left by taking several steps back. It was like the swinging of a flesh door. All of them moved in perfect unison to let in what ever it was they were supposed to let in. What came through was something I could have never imagined possible. Its black scales glistened with its majestic size as it slithered into the circle. A red tongue flickered from its mouth. Its eyes black and lidless reflected the abyss from within. Like the shamans eyes they too held no feeling. I then realized the beast and Shaman were somehow connected. This huge serpent was a freak of nature. It was not like the huge snakes that dwell in the jungle that I had heard tales of. No it was that of a giant asp, an asp ten times the length of a man. It moved effortlessly, a gliding black killer with fangs the size of daggers and coils that could crush a horse. As it moved toward the captive Pict at the end I noticed a strange look fall upon the shamans face. His gaze was locked on something directly behind me. In a panic he yelled back to the other Pict behind him. Several of them stood up with bows in hand and swiftly fired a volley through the ceremony and struck something behind me. The Shaman turned to the alter Pulled out a stone dagger from his boot and ran toward Crazy Joe who lay helplessly on the alter. He raised the dagger high above his head and thrust the dagger deep into Joe’s chest. Joe’s Lifeless body lay limp. I struggled desperately to break my bonds but to no avail. Looking over to Gaspar I saw a flash of a gigantic ebony woman running toward him carrying a war spear. She was at least seven foot tall wearing nothing but a thong and leather strap to cover her breasts. Her ebony skin was rippled with muscles. Her hair black as the moonless night flew behind her like a velvet cape in the wind. She speared two of the Pict as she made her way toward Gaspar. The Short spear was tipped with a diamond shaped razor that was as big as a mans hand. Kicking the last Pict off she sliced effortlessly through Gaspar’s bonds, The Pict now aware of an ambush armed themselves with axes and spears. The bowmen sent another volley past my head. I looked toward the shaman to see him take a step toward the one captive Pict that was being rushed by the great serpent. Behind them the drummers stopped and drew their spears. Suddenly one fell, then two. A woman in a crimson cape entered the outer circle with a bloodied sword as did a huge barbarian, both slashing at the surprised Pict that were now retreating and fumbling for their weapons. The huge barbarian wearing nothing but a loin cloth charged at a group of three Pict. Fearless he brought down his great sword upon one and at the last minute the deft Pict dodged away from his mighty swing. A moment later my bonds were cut loose. I looked behind me as saw a man in noble clothing standing there. Odd thing was the man wasn’t wearing any armor just a broad sword in his hands. “We are friends from the fort. Now fight for your lives!” he yelled. “Blessed be the Gods” I thought “Brant and Willie had sent a rescue party.”  I looked back behind me and there stood three huts. The one in the middle covered with various colored feathers and hides. I could only guess that that was where the Shaman resided and where my armor and weapon were stored. The doorway was now pinned with arrows where this knight must have come through. Another man came out of the doorway. A young boy barely a man came running toward me from the shaman’s hut. To my surprise he was carrying my bow and a quiver of arrows. “My bow!” I shouted to him. “Bring them to me quickly!” He was dressed in a leather jerkin and a green forest cloak armed with a dagger. Our eyes locked as my words sunk in. He ran straight towards me. I  turned and looked for a target to be ready to shoot. To my right the ebony giantess and Gaspar were dodging blows from three Pict axe men. A couple of Pict Spearmen were running towards them to join in the battle.

   To my left the huge barbarian was being cut down by another three of the Pict axe men with the Red cloaked woman nearby weaving her sword at two threatening spearmen. She dodged with grace from the spear tips being thrust at her as she returned landing slashes at each Pict. In front of me stepped up the shaman. His eyes locked on mine and suddenly I felt a familiar touch as boy handed me my bow and a handful for arrows. For the first time I saw an emotion in the shamans eyes as I notched an arrow. In a moment my first shot was in the air heading for the shaman followed by a battle cry from me. He then began chanting a spell. Still weak and my limbs numb my shot hit his right arm and went through. Disappointed I shook my arms loose to get the blood down to my finger tips.

   All the while Gaspar and the Giantess were fighting for their lives. Gaspar was fending Pict warriors off with his balled up fists. Blocking and dodging their blows from their axes he punched one of his attackers and knocked him down. Reaching down he picked up the Pictish axe and began wielding it. The Giantess was skewing anything that came within her reach; three dead Pict already lay lifeless at her feet. Then suddenly to my surprise I felt weak as if some ill fortune had befallen me. I grabbed at my chest as some unseen force had entered my body. The shaman had finished his spell and a terrible feeling of hopelessness and despair befell me. Enraged I fired two more shots at him. The first flew wildly past him but the second found his right shoulder and knocked him back. Wounded badly, perhaps mortally, he muttered a word at the serpent and ran away from the ensuing battle and disappeared into the woods. Seeing this, the remaining Picts began to flee as well. As they turned their backs away from the battle a few of them fell from the rescuing party’s slashing and piercing at them. The Barbarian was down on the ground as the woman in the red cloak began to tend to his wounds. But this battle was not over. The man dressed in rich silk cloths ran across the camp to disappear in the woods. The boy and the Giantess looked confused at each other as to why he had run out of the battle.

   Now looking at them and them at me their expressions changed. I saw surprise and fear as their eyes opened wide at something behind me. They took a step back away from me and a feeling of dread fell upon me as I felt a presence rise up shadowing the sun on my back. I tried to sidestep but the huge asp came at me with lightning speed. Venom dripped from its fangs as they sunk into my naked flesh. I screamed in pain as it retreated back for a second strike. Naturally I took a step back away from the beast to face it. The Giantess moved in to aid me but was still engaged with one last Pict. Out of many years of training my hands notched an arrow and pulled back. My mighty Bossonian bow was a part of my body now. Limbs now pumped with blood as I aimed at the serpent’s head that was getting ready for another strike at me. I let loose, pulled another arrow out, knocked it, took aim, and let loose again. My first arrow found its mark. It pierced through the mouth of the great serpent and ripped through the back of its head. My second arrow struck bone in its jaw and the great serpent fell wriggling in death. The fight was won and Gaspar and I were free. The snake’s bite only hurt a little. The poison must have been spent on the other captive victim dead and tied to the pole. His friend badly wounded still stood ready to be freed as well.

   I looked at Gaspar who was being aided by the Ebony giant woman. She was now cutting off the leather straps that were cutting off his circulation to his limbs. When he was finished she said something in a strange tongue, smiled, and looked satisfied with her work.  The boy who brought me my bow was also talking to me in some strange language cutting through the straps that were tied around my limbs as I peeled of the strap around my forehead. When all were free and unbound the noble man came barreling through the bush now adorned in his plate armor ready for battle. “A little late Valr.” said the lady in the red cloak sarcastically. She pulled off her hood to reveal her flame red hair. Her Green eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun. He chuckled and replied “Well crud Quillia! I didn’t think that snake would die that fast!” Both Quillia and the Knight named Valr were of my kingdom. Gaspar went over to the Pict that was still tied up to the stake. He spoke to him in the Pict language and the savage replied. “It appears this Pict is a tribal chief who had led a war party her to attack these Pict.” Gaspar translated. The Pict Chief spoke again, and again Gaspar translated “He says they were captured and that if we let him free he will bring his tribe down to help us break the spell that has afflicted you Derik.”  I looked up and down my body. “A spell?” I asked. The Pict chief spoke again and again Gaspar translated, “Aye Derik he says that the Shaman cursed you and the only way for the curse to be lifted is for the shaman to die or time pass till the next full moon appears through the heavens.”

   I looked at the others. Gaspar and I knew our mission and this gave us the perfect opportunity to see it through. I nodded to Gaspar to cut his bonds. The Chief said something, then walked defensively backwards away from us into the woods and disappeared. “What he say Gaspar?” I asked. “He said for us to stay here for three days and heal. He said for us to move the dead way from the camp as to not lure wild beasts to us. On the third day he will return.” Gaspar replied. We spent the rest of the afternoon moving the barbarian into the shamans hut and moving the dead far away from the camp. Inside the shamans hut lie the rest of Gaspar’s and my equipment. Also some hides, feathers, and copper bowls and plates scattered around as well. I looked at my quiver and saw that I had eighteen arrows left. These three days of rest hopefully will allow me to fletch more I thought. After the wounded were set to rest and the dead bodies taken away from the camp Gaspar and I took Crazy Joe’s body to be buried.

   When the two of us returned to the huts we then got to know our rescuers. Sitting in the shaman’s hut each of us told our tales. The ones that couldn’t speak our language were translated by those who could. The huge Ebon woman named Nande was a princess in her lands. Her people were attacked and sold into slavery by pirates. Nande showed the scars that she bore on her wrists and ankles, and told of how she escaped her captors. She also told of how she killed her first lion and showed us her necklace of lion claws to prove it which were stung across her neck. The young boy whose name was “Sly” came into the hut with a jug. “Look!” he said “Whisky!” It was the bottle Gaspar, Wild Joe and I shared the night of our capture. We took turns at the bottle giving some to the badly wounded barbarian Bjorn to dull his pain. Quillia, who is also a soldier, drank herself to sleep. When the bottle was empty we began to set up watches. Over the period of the next three days I had learned that Valr was Brant’s younger brother. He was not sent to rescue us but to find him. They had however found One Eyed Willies body in the river along with a giant crocodile in the marshes. But Brant his horse and the mules were still unaccounted for.

   I spent most of the three days working on arrows getting to know Sly who was helping me. We would have to use smelt copper for the heads of the arrows but against unarmored Pict they would suit well. I also thought of my new friends and what they had gone through. How some twist of fate had brought us all together. The odds of the ebon giantess, a swash buckler, a Barbarian from the north, and a young adventurous boy,  meeting with three Aquilonians in the Pict wilderness were too much to be coincidental.