An Excerpt From Lord Markand’s Histories Of Magick and Strange Events.

Philip was awake before the roosters. He had to pee in the dark and he picked his way through his cabin but took time to throw a bit of wood on the embers of his kitchen fire. There was a little fog outside but there was a slight glow on the horizon. A few birds were calling already. He finished his business and collected eggs. He knew the yard well enough. As soon as the chickens were disturbed the roosters began with the racket. He retired to the kitchen and built up the fire and put a pot of water on to boil the eggs.

Philip took time to remember a frustrating dream about Margie who kept teasing him. This was not just the stuff of dreams since Margie and Philip were experienced with one another already. In his dream, he was an old man. He warmed his hands by the little flames and wondered at how young they were against the memory of his dream. Then he noticed how dirty they were even in the dim firelight. Philip wanted to clean off before the warm day anyway but his bucket of water was nearly empty. He left his fire burning and grabbed the nearly empty bucket and stripped down to his breeches.

Philip carried the bucket down the path to the river and stepped into the cold water. Stepping out of his breeches he washed them out well and threw them on the grassy bank. He endured the cold water on his head and scrubbed all over. He quickly got as clean and cold as he could stand. The roosters were well at it now and he grabbed the bucket and filled it to carry home with his wet trousers. The only person to care about his naked would be Margie and she had seen it before.

Philip returned to the now warming cabin and dressed in clean dry breeches and leather hunter pants and boots. He wore his best flax shirt and a leather surcoat since they would set out after a mid-day meal. He fished out the out eggs to pack with a wooden spoon and wrapped all but one in a cloth. This one he ate immediately with tea brewed from the hot water and a little salt he kept in a cedar box. He drank the tea on the way to wake Ian.

Ian was pleased to have the warm egg. Once he had spent some time on his routines he washed in the bucket and dressed for the day. They fed the horse and checked his water then took the short walk to see the Headman.

“What is your Father’s name again Philip?”

“Nathan Baily. Call him Headman Baily once and then Nathan, no court manners here.”

It was still early morning as the two men made their way up the path through a five-acre yard shared between the barn, house and Philip’s Cabin. The dew in the long green grass soaked their boots. Ian examined the house which sat high on a rise overlooking fields. A lane ran beside a split rail fence toward the river and beside the barn. Ian was impressed with the thick sturdy walls of the house which tapered upward to a well-worn tile roof. By the chimney, they could tell the house was awake.

Philip knocked on the iron banded timber door set deep into the thick walls. A very muffled noise was heard and moments later a thick wooden plug was pulled from the interior as someone looked out through the peephole. A moment’s delay preceded the sound of the unlocking barred door. The great timber construct swung out on silent well balanced hinges. A Matronly woman carefully pushed the door outward and smiled at them.

“Good morning Philip, it’s a bit early yet.” The Woman pushed a short piece of wood into a clever hole in the floor to hold the door open against the wall, she motioned them in and carefully draped a thin weighted linen curtain across the opening. “A friend of Philip is a friend of this house, Welcome. I hope you bring good news today Philip.”

“Good morning Mahrielin, this is Lord Markand’s man Ian, he has come with business for Nathan.”

The trim Matron pulled a wisp of long grey blond hair behind her ear and gave Ian a smile that fit well with her tan face. She shifted her light wool dress and met Ian’s eyes. “Well met Ian. You two set here by the hearth and knock off the chill, I will get the Headman.”

Ian said, “Thank you, Gentlewoman.” Ian and Philip took seats in straight-backed wooden chairs while the Matron quickly added some water to an almost boiling pot then she smiled again at Ian with clear green eyes and left to go upstairs and get the Headman.

Ian asked, “Is that your Mother?”

Philip noted Ian’s face and smiled shifting wood to the fire, “My second Mother, we lost Ma when I was young.”

Ian offered, “Sorry, do you have more Family?”

“A Sister in Crosstown, she is married to a sergeant of the guard they have two children. What about you?

Ian nodded, “Cathar City, big family middle brother, seven kids. Father is pensioned from the war.” Ian chuckled, “Also Gus my horse.”

Philip laughed at this, “Where did you find him?”

“He belongs to Lord Markand, it is a large measure of his strength to own many good horses, left over from the war I think too.”

Philip thought about this for a bit wondering how Ian was trusted with the superior animal but he was interrupted by Nathan descending the stairs.

Ian shifted his packet of documents into his hand and both men stood as the Headman entered the room.

“Good morning Headman I am Ian Messidor.” He gave a deep nod.

Nathan was in his late fifties with curly brown hair almost reddish blonde and a paunch expected of a country gentleman. His bright eyes met Ian’s and he extended his hand to greet the man. “Well met Ian Messidor.” He said this as he shifted the business to the large simple table, out of the way of the fire and Mahrielin’s preparations. “Ian call me Nathan, you have business from Lord Markand?”

Ian handed the leather packet to the older man.

Nathan looked carefully at the seal and broke it, opening the packet. He found inside a letter of introduction and credit for Ian to be taken from annual taxes. A separate letter commissioned the Headman to clear land and build longhouse barracks. “In locations where the houses will benefit and encircle the Headman’s land with an eye to the creation of suitable defense for twenty families.” A personal letter to the Headman described Lord Markand’s earnest desire “to restore the Valley, now to be known as Markand’s Gap, so that it would exceed past greatness.” Lord Markand promised ten families next spring, with twenty to follow in the spring after. Nathan was “to use Ian as a Squire” and send a representative or himself to Lord Markand’s Seat with the body of a Dragon before midsummer.

Nathan’s concern greatly increased with the last letter and he reread and thought about the document with concern on his face. In the meantime, Mahrielin served everyone tea in well-glazed pottery cups and put sausages and biscuits on to cook. Nathan examined Ian carefully and then asked, “So you two are to hunt a Dragon and return to Lord Markand. Ian will also be Squire to me, the Headman of ten families?

Ian responded respectfully with obvious caution. “That was the understanding I have with Lord Markand our liege, yes.”

Nathan held Ian in his eyes long enough for Mahrielin’s sounds to start to reduce in frequency and volume.

Ian continued after a time, “The Gap is currently something extra held out from the Plainsmen’s grasp, as it stands now, not well defended should those and other tribulations return. Lord Markand confided in me that his fate and the fate of the district entrusted to him by the King would hang in the balance if the Gap was to be lost in any case. He wants me to see it and you strengthened.”

Nathan admitted, “All praises for Lord Markand! There are beasts in the Valley though that have claimed many lives. I can’t ignore this anymore it seems. Ian, you have my support but I have to advise you that what lives in this Valley are not just ordinary wolves or feral pigs. I have seen the dragons, their tracks and spore.”

“Headman, I can believe you but Lord Markand can’t just tell a story about these creatures to the King. No one will forget what this Valley used to be and what it can be. Without evidence of the nature of these animals and our ability to fight them we might as well just let it go to the wolves.”

The Headman realized the look on the face of Mahrielin, she had been shaken by the conversation. Her fear would spread, a good husband reassured her. “Mahrielin it is safe enough here, there have always been dangers in the wild areas.” He turned to give a look to Ian and Philip and addressed Philip, “Go into the woods for your own reasons Philip this is a risk you have to decide to take. No command of Father or Lord should make you ignore the duty you have to your own life. Consider that carefully.”

Philip felt a lump in his chest when he considered the sacrifices that the families might pay if the dragons continued to grow as a threat, the price he might pay to do something about it. He started to nod and agree. Mahrielin interrupted, “Nathan how many people would have to die before you did something about these dragons? You hardly let people talk about the men and animals that have disappeared!” Nathan heard this and the issue seemed to be decided by the shame that entered his face.

Nathan nodded and seemed to accept that something needed to be done, he continued to meet Philip’s gaze, “If you will not go Philip I will go to hunt one of these creatures.”

Mahrielin fumed, “You old fool!” She turned to Philip and Ian, “For the All Mother’s sake be careful, save us from this fool.”

When the biscuits and sausages were served Philip realized that the adventure in the woods was more a trap sealed by Mahrielin’s hands rather than packets of documents from Lord Markand. He gave a special prayer to the All-Mother for a special fool, himself.