Upon the Ridge

A half an hour passed since he had heard it. A cry, let out over the countryside, sending bug, bird, and beast into a state of locked silence. The first cold breeze rolled in, wisping away the summer’s stifling atmosphere and carrying the sounds of the cry echoing over the hills.

Elias pulled his woolen tunic tighter about his chest and stepped over towards the mounted torch, feeling the heat from its licking flames touch upon his cheek. The blaze glared in his right eye, making the darkness of the night around, ironically, appear darker in comparison. Looking out from where he stood upon the wall walk, and out to the hills. knee height grass dominated either side of the main road until it culminated with the raising of the ground forming a hill that made up the horizon. The full moon had reached halfway above this. The world below, devoid of life.

When he had first heard the cry, his instincts took it for a scream of some desperate person in need. He had made a move to leave his post, even though he knew that would leave the gates unguarded, but stopped. It came to him by some second intuition, deeper than his desire to act, that the tone of the cry sat in his ears as strange. Something within it, as the wind carried it over the lands to Elias’s ears, something within the voice reached out in anger.

Elias spent the time since keeping his eyes on the distant ridge. Once the white moon had fully revealed its entire glory, relief of his post would too arrive, and finally allowed a few hours sleep before being called again. Even though he heard the cry, he had to stay here. He had to keep his post. The people within the walls, his only concern. Not those from beyond.

Four hours. Four whole hours since anyone had approached the gate below him. Four hours since the town behind had gone silent. Four hours since he had the chance to talk to another person. The past four hours had given him a chance for peace. To know, as long as the gate remained shut, his people were safe. A feeling he rarely had the chance to experience since he saw the soldiers marching their way through the gate and over the ridge, until they became a distant memory of months passed.

A figure, blackened against the moon, stood at the center of the ridge’s horizon. Elias shook from his memories when the thing caught his eye. It did not move, standing facing the town, and appearing to have a hunched posture. The torch popped and billowed from the wind coming down the fields. He stepped closer to the wall’s spiked tops to get a better view and, upon hearing his footsteps sound off upon the wood, became fully aware of the silence within the great open space between himself and the figure on the hill. The only two sounds besides the ones he made were the wind through the trees on either side of the village and a whippoorwill far off on one of their branches. The distanced feeling that what stood there, did not watch the village behind, but Elias himself. Though he had no real way of knowing this.

“What are you doin’?” the mumble came low through his dry lips.

Merchants, farmers, soldiers, and an assortment of types had come through his gate during the day, and left through the East gate on the opposite side of town. All needed checking, and so all would go through the possibility of arrest if their identity was that of a criminal. Only some would stand at a distance from the only village within a thirty mile journey. No farmer had land this close, and no merchant would travel so singularly. This brought about an idea to Elias.

The guardsman raised up his hand and waved. The figure now stood in the full moon’s circle. It did not move. Elias lowered his hand, and rested his other upon the club in his belt.

“Very well then.” With a snort of air through the hairs upon his upper lip, he turned to the right and started his brisk march to the hanging bell at the far corner.

“Elias, I’m here.” He stopped with a small jump and looked down. A redheaded man walked along the cobblestone path behind the wall. His smooth face, noticeably less weathered than Elias’s. He constantly readjusted his brightly colored uniform, ever holding a twinkle in his eye. “Did you hear me?” The youth looked up as he mounted each step with a bound.

“Quiet you.” Elias hissed, then looked back over the wall. His brow narrowed. A lonely horizon, and a full moon, clear as ever. “Get over here, now.” He kept searching the darkness as the other guardsman, now upon the wall walk, closed the distance.

“What’s it?” Elias snapped a finger to his lips as his head twisted around to glare at the youth. The other mouthed an apology, and shrunk away. Elias let out a soft breath from his nose, and ran his fingers over the scruffy mustache and beard beneath them. Not only loud, he thought, but far too light a tone for such work.

“What’s your name again?”

“Noah.” A smile and a nod followed the response. A tightness began to grow in Elias’s left shoulder.

“Noah, when you talk to me, you always do it with the word sir ready on your lip, lest I make them bleed.” Noah nodded again, his smile dropping faster than a baby bird from its nest.

Even though his youth and energy far surpassed his senior’s, Elias still had a significant size advantage over him. And the scar running across the older man’s neck suggested to Noah a level of experience that he knew not to entangle himself with. “Look here son,” Elias turned his head back to the night beyond the wall. “Someone is out and about here. Don’t know as to who it is. However, you and I know what we should be looking for in times like these.” He looked over his shoulder and into the youth’s eyes. He noted only confusion.

“No, sir.” Noah jumped a bit before he remembered to add sir to the end. “Are you referring to possible deserters? I heard Joseph mention something about that the other day.” Still so wet behind the ears, the thought ran through his mind like an arrow. Elias felt impatiens growing in his lungs, but resisted all urges to shout, as his usual tactics tended towards when dealing with his guardsmen. But the night is far too silent to allow such things.

“Listen to me.” He said after a long sigh. How many years had passed since dealing with someone so green? He had to search for the right words. “No matter how many miles away the fight might be happening, soldiers travel. Especially when they have no place to call home.” He looked forward again. “So, in that way, yes Joseph has a point. We should keep an eye out for soldiers on the run. However, there is something else we need to be on the watch for.” Noah joined Elias at looking past the wall.

“What else? You mean like what the sky was seen doing two days ago?”

“No, stop with talking about that.” Elias struggled to control his volume. “Here is what I mean, there are three of us now. Only three. And,” He looked Noah up and down out of the corner of his eye. “Only two of us have any real experience here.” He saw the boy’s posture shrink upon hearing the words, true as they were. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful that you convinced your father to let you join us. However, I need you to understand, I expect you to act fully as one of us, and not as the child you were last time I saw you.”

“Yes, sir.” Elias took another deep breath.

“Good. Now, listen to what I’m about to tell you. I saw someone about here. I would handle it myself. Truly, the idea of leaving a pup like you up here alone during these times makes my stomach lurch. However, I’m about to fall over for the need of sleep.” He turned about, and put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes peeled, boy. Ring that bell if you see anything. We’ll be here to help.”

“Yes sir.” Elias removed his hand. Before mounting the steps, he halted.

“Noah.” Shadows from the torch danced across their faces as they looked through the night upon each other. “Remember, there is only us here now.”

Elias found himself at the small guard shack at the east gate. Unbuckling the club from his side, he hung it up, and moved over to a thick leather bound book. Its pages opened, stretching near to the edge of the table it sat upon. Elias’s calloused fingers plucked a quill out of a small ink jar and effortlessly slashed his name onto the paper. Then he looked down upon it, head hanging.

A column of scribbled names filled paper until it stopped halfway down the far right page, just above where he had just written. On the whole right page and near up to the top of the left repeated three names. Elias, Joseph, and Noah. He stood gazing through the repetition until his vision began to grow foggy.

He stumbled over to his small cot. For a moment, his massive body remained frozen, then finally, feeling no other presence about, like a felled oak, he toppled over. His face bounced from the tense fabric, and his mind went black.

...

Elias stood in a field of barley. The stalks bent in the wind, as a powerful gray cloud swarmed overhead. The trees bordering the field began to lean and crack, some snapping off halfway up. Deer bounded though, seeking shelter from the coming onslaught.

Elias looked ahead, and saw a person at the other end of the field. A little girl stood, rubbing her eye with one hand, in the other she held a small open book. She wore a nightgown, and had her hair tied up. For all the chaos about him, there she stood, as one who had just woken up looking for their mother.

Elias, filled with a duty to protect the girl from the storm, tried to run, but stumbled. He looked upon himself. His body shriveled with age before his very eyes. His teeth and air withered and dropped from their place. He felt his legs brittle and snap like dead branches.

The old man fell on his back, looking up at the whirling clouds. His eyes widened. The clouds had not only grown in size, but color. Now a green hue, the monstrous clouds cycloned overhead. Then, slowing down they came to a halt. And, from the clear center, the sky turned night, and stars filled its openness. Echoing through the dark circle within the sky, a scream came. It rolled down upon the world about Elias, shuttering through his body. The cry filled with a wrath and desperation Elias had never heard before, crumpled his aging body unto the dirt below.

...

The bleating cry rang through Elias’s dreams, and he bolted upright. Cold air seized his body, and the morning filled his stomach with an intense hunger. Once more, the cry sounded off, and Elias covered his ears. Standing within the hut’s window, a speckled rooster making his presence known to all within. Its confidence broke when a projectile boot, courtesy of the woken man, hurled through the air striking his feathered chest.

Messaging his face back to life, Elias lifted himself from the cot and towards a bowl of water. He plunged his stiff wrinkled face into it, causing it to spill over. With a gasp, he jerked his head up and quickly pulled the remaining water through his greasy hair. Wide awake, he moved about the room regaining his full uniform, painfully aware of the sudden temperature shift the night had brought about. The dream had left his mind.

The town still dead silent, the guardsman made his way through the narrow alleys towards the main road. Hunger burned within his abdomen as he cleared the last passageway and walked into the town center. The pain guided his movement like a puppet master, and before long, he found himself at the entrance of the tavern.

Gray clouds overhead began their first assault of droplets upon the world, and Elias felt the chilled slap of water drum against his thinning scalp with each step ascended. Orange light seeped through the frame of the wooden door, and voices heard clamoring within the walls. He corrected his posture to stand tall, shoulder squared. With a push, the door swung inward and Elias entered the tavern.

“Mornin’ old man.” The humorous tone danced the words over to Elias moments before he fully slumped into the oaken chair and table. A man from behind a counter with a braided black beard wiped his hands on a previously dirty rag before slinging it over his shoulder and moving around to make his journey over to the new client of the morning. During this, the guardsman took a moment to glance about the room.

An open space with a flickering fire within a large pit at its center casting a smokey haze and scent that hung in the air. About this Elias saw a dozen tables or so, most empty or occupied with solitary patrons. The only exception was a table directly across the fire from where Elias sat. A group of four men gathered around a man who kept himself busy working away at a bowl of stew. They whispered among themselves in a tone steeped in amazement and intrigue. Elias, pleased to not find interest in their little group, looked over when a glint reflecting on the center man’s tunic caught his eye.

“What can I get for ya, Elias.”

“Something hot. And something else wet.” The tavern keeper vanished back into the kitchen. At that time, the door swung open, and another man came through. One of the group members looked at the newcomer, and, upon recognizing them, arose.

“Joseph, come here. Come over here and listen to this man.” Elias remained facing the bar, but kept his eye cocked to the side, watching the man join his friends. The voices mutter low between themselves, but he could still just make out the conversation.

“What do you want, Humphrey? Who is this man?” Humphrey scurried about, pulled a chair over from one of the other tables, and gestured to Joseph to sit in it. The man did so with an hesitant pace. Humphrey remained standing, and nodded over to the man eating. Joseph, sighed, and leaned towards the center man, who paid none of them any mind, only watching each spoonful of stew steaming its way towards his mouth. “What’s this all about, then? Who are you?”

Elias cocked his head a bit in order to get a better look at the man. Greasy black hair clinging to his scalp in curly strands. His beard dripped the stew back into the bowl below. The clothes, while mostly hidden behind the flames, worn and darkened from use. No marking or style revealed to interpret who the man might be, or where he came from. Every single inch suggested a lone wanderer. However, the glint of some golden metal reflecting, hitting Elias directly in the eyes.

“I’m a huntsman. I’m not from here. Just passing through. My name’s Giles.” He took a slurp of broth between each sentence. Joseph sat back in his chair.

“Amazing news.” He looked up at his friend. “Can I go eat now? I need to be at my post soon” Humphrey pulled at his facial hair and shook his head.

“Aye, enough about things that don’t matter. Giles, tell him what you told us. You won’t believe it Joseph. You just won’t.” Humphrey squatted down next to them, and the other three men leaned closer. Joseph, panned his head around, astounded by their enraptured state. And, as Giles continued to spoon his food, he too found himself being drawn towards the man. The room fell to silence. The fire crackled and popped.

“This is the last time I’m telling any of you. I’ve eaten all the free meals I can for one story. So, listen carefully.” He passed the now empty bowl to one of the other men who promptly placed it onto a nearby table. Giles then turned to Joseph, and leaned forward. “Tell me, do you believe in monsters, Joseph?”

“Here you are, Elias.” The tavern owner’s voice jolted the whole of the room. Elias snapped his head back to the table as the stew and beer were sloshed down in front of him. He muttered a thank you as the owner nodded and walked behind the counter again. Looking back over, Elias saw Giles eyeing him over the dancing flames, and only stopped when Elias turned away and picked up his spoon.

“As I was saying.”