Something in the Hills

The ridgebacks were gone. All nine had disappeared into the brush with such urgency that the road looked strangely peaceful without them. A few stalks still trembled where the creatures had passed, and muddy prints crossed one another beside the scattered grain, but otherwise there was little evidence that anything had happened.

Tavian kept his spear pointed toward the hills.

“So,” he said eventually, “we’re still leaving, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Elias didn’t move.

Tavian looked sideways at him. “Elias.”

“I said yes.”

“You said yes while staring directly toward the thing we’re supposed to be leaving.”

Elias finally stepped backward. “I’m thinking.”

“Think while walking.”

That was reasonable.

They returned along the mill road without lowering their weapons. Elias resisted the urge to keep looking over his shoulder, mostly because Tavian was already doing it enough for both of them.

The roar had come from somewhere beyond the western ridge. Distance was difficult to judge through hills and trees, but it hadn’t sounded close enough to suggest immediate danger. Whatever had made it, however, had frightened nine hungry ridgebacks badly enough to abandon food and flee.

The contract had described attacks by three to six unidentified animals. The ridgebacks fit the attacks well enough. They were opportunistic predators and scavengers, and a hungry pack might tear open grain sacks while threatening wagon drivers.

But ridgebacks normally lived farther west.

Something had displaced them.

Elias began organizing the information in his head.

Nine animals. Underfed. At least one injured. Outside their normal territory. Fear response toward something farther into the hills.

He wanted to know what.

Unfortunately, wanting to know and being qualified to find out were different things.

“Stop making that face,” Tavian said.

“What face?”

“The one where you decide something dangerous is actually a puzzle.”

“I haven’t decided anything.”

“That’s worse.”

They reached the main road ten minutes later. Elias finally sheathed his sword, although Tavian kept his spear in hand until Bellhaven’s walls became visible through the trees.

Their first contract had lasted less than an hour.

Elias wasn’t pleased about that.

He was even less pleased when they returned to the Guild and had to stand in line again.

The clerk who had assigned them the contract was still at the Copper desk. She looked at Elias, then Tavian, then at the unstained weapons they were carrying.

“That was quick.”

“The report was wrong,” Elias said.

“That happens.”

“There were nine ridgebacks.”

The clerk reached for the contract sheet.

“Any injuries?”

“No.”

“Did they pursue?”

“Briefly. Then something frightened them.”

Her pen stopped.

“What?”

“We don’t know.”

Elias described the roar.

He expected skepticism. Instead, the clerk’s expression became more attentive.

“You didn’t investigate?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Tavian looked delighted.

Elias ignored him.

The clerk wrote several lines beneath the original report before reaching for a small bell on her desk. She rang it once.

A man at the next counter looked over.

“Send someone to West Records. I want recent animal reports around Mill Road and the old quarries.”

The man nodded and disappeared through a side door.

Elias remained at the desk.

“Do we still have the contract?”

“No.”

He frowned.

“You’re Copper. The contract is being reassessed.”

“So we don’t get paid?”

“You didn’t clear the road.”

“We identified the animals.”

“That wasn’t the contract.”

“We also identified that the contract itself was inaccurate.”

The clerk looked at him.

Tavian quietly stepped away.

Elias continued. “The merchant reported three to six unidentified animals. We confirmed at least nine ridgeback scavengers and evidence of displacement by a larger animal. That information changes the contract classification.”

The clerk leaned back.

“You’ve been registered for two hours.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re arguing over compensation already.”

“Yes.”

Something close to amusement appeared in her expression.

She reached beneath the counter, removed two copper coins, and placed them in front of him.

“Information fee.”

Elias stared at the coins.

“Two?”

“You want me to put them back?”

He took them.

“Thank you.”

Tavian waited until they were halfway across the Guildhall before speaking.

“You argued with a Guild clerk for two copper.”

“I spent eight repairing the harness.”

“So?”

“So now I’ve only lost six.”

Tavian stared at him for several seconds.

“You frighten me sometimes.”

Elias put the coins into his pouch.

Five coppers.

Not enough for medicine.

Not even close.

He looked toward the contract board.

Tavian noticed.

“No.”

“We have most of the day.”

“We almost got eaten.”

“We didn’t.”

“That’s an incredibly low standard for a successful morning.”

Elias walked toward the board anyway.

The better Copper contracts were gone. What remained consisted mostly of errands, gathering work and jobs that paid so little the walk there would almost cost more in food than the reward was worth.

He read every notice.

Tavian waited.

Eventually Elias pulled down one.

WAREHOUSE INVENTORY ASSISTANCE – 18 COPPER PER WORKER

Tavian read it.

Then looked at Elias.

“We became adventurers to count boxes?”

“Eighteen copper.”

“We could have done this yesterday without swords.”

“Twenty-three copper after the information fee.”

“You spent eight.”

“I’m not counting money I no longer possess.”

“That’s a very convenient system.”

Elias brought the contract to the desk.

Their second adventure began in a warehouse.

It was not glorious.

For four hours Elias and Tavian moved sacks, counted crates and helped an elderly merchant determine which goods had been damaged by a leaking roof. Tavian complained for the first twenty minutes, then discovered that one of the warehouse workers knew an impressive number of inappropriate songs and became considerably happier.

Elias didn’t mind the work.

He had spent years doing worse for less.

More importantly, the job gave him time to think.

By midafternoon they had finished, collected thirty-six copper between them, and returned to the street smelling of dust and onions.

Tavian stretched his arms above his head.

“Being an adventurer is incredible.”

“We’ve made twenty silver less than we started with.”

“I didn’t say profitable.”

Elias checked his pouch.

Twenty-three copper after his share.

Still thirteen short.

He knew exactly what that meant.

There was a loading yard near the southern docks that paid by the wagon.

If he worked until evening, he could make the difference.

Tavian recognized the direction he was looking.

“No.”

Elias frowned. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?”

“Because you keep having bad ideas.”

“I need thirteen copper.”

“And you’ll get it tomorrow.”

“I need it today.”

“Why?”

Elias looked at him.

Tavian’s expression changed.

“Lysa?”

“The medicine is almost gone.”

Tavian was quiet for a moment.

Then he reached into his coat.

“No.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“You’re reaching for money.”

“I was scratching myself.”

“You’re a worse liar than I am.”

“That is deeply insulting.”

Elias started toward the docks.

Tavian followed.

“You know I can lend you thirteen copper.”

“I know.”

“And you’re choosing to carry boxes for three hours instead.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my debt.”

“It’s thirteen copper.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

“It answers everything.”

Tavian made a frustrated sound but continued walking beside him.

They reached the end of the street before someone called after them.

“Varren!”

Elias stopped.

The Guild clerk was standing outside the entrance.

He and Tavian exchanged a glance before returning.

She held their original contract.

“It’s been reassessed.”

Elias looked at the paper.

A second stamp had been placed across the first.

IRON RECOMMENDED.

“Records had three reports of livestock disappearing west of Mill Road over the last two weeks,” she said. “One farmer found a dead ridgeback near his fence. Crushed ribs, no feeding marks.”

Tavian frowned. “What does that?”

“If we knew, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

She handed Elias the contract.

The payment had changed too.

Four silver had become twelve.

Elias looked at it.

“You want us to take this?”

“No.”

He looked up.

“You’re Copper. I’m telling you that you were right to withdraw.”

That was considerably less interesting.

“The Guild is assigning an Iron party tomorrow morning. Since you made the initial report, you can accompany them as observers if they’ll take you.”

Tavian looked at Elias.

Elias was already reading the amended notice.

“What does observer mean?”

“You follow their instructions, don’t engage unless necessary, and don’t wander off trying to prove you’re clever. If the contract is completed, you receive a small participation share.”

“How small?”

The clerk stared at him.

Elias waited.

“One silver each.”

“We’ll go.”

Tavian grabbed his shoulder.

“Can we discuss things before you volunteer both of us?”

“You wanted to be an adventurer.”

“I still do. I just enjoy participating in decisions concerning my continued existence.”

The clerk folded her arms.

“You don’t have to answer now. Meet here at six tomorrow if you’re interested.”

“We’re interested,” Elias said.

Tavian sighed.

“We’re apparently interested.”

The clerk went back inside.

Elias looked down at the contract again.

One silver.

More than enough for the medicine.

And, admittedly, there was another reason.

He wanted to know what had made that sound.

Tavian saw it immediately.

“This isn’t only about the silver anymore.”

“It mostly is.”

“Mostly.”

Elias folded the contract.

“Maybe ninety percent.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Eighty.”

Tavian started walking.

“Keep going.”

“Seventy-five.”

“I’ve known you too long.”

Elias followed him.

By the time they reached the docks, Tavian had negotiated him down to sixty.

They worked until sunset anyway.

The loading foreman paid Elias fourteen copper and Tavian twelve because Elias had moved an additional crate during the final wagon. Tavian disputed the fairness of this until Elias pointed out that he had spent several minutes talking to a girl selling apples.

“That was networking,” Tavian said.

“You don’t know her name.”

“I was beginning the network.”

Elias bought Lysa’s medicine on the way home.

The bottle was small enough to fit entirely within his palm.

Thirty-six copper.

He stood outside the physician’s shop for a moment after paying, looking at what remained in his pouch.

One copper.

That morning, he had possessed ten silver and eleven.

He had worked almost the entire day.

Now he had one copper.

Strangely, he didn’t feel discouraged.

He slipped the medicine carefully into the padded section of his pack.

The house was warm when he returned.

His mother was in the kitchen. Lysa was upstairs. His father was nowhere to be seen, though a light burned beneath the workshop door.

Mara looked up when Elias entered.

“You’re late.”

“I was working.”

“You were adventuring.”

“Some of it involved onions.”

She blinked.

“I thought adventuring would be different.”

“So did Tavian.”

He placed the medicine on the table.

His mother’s expression softened.

“Elias.”

“There should be enough for the week.”

“You didn’t have to get it today.”

“Yes, I did.”

Mara touched the bottle, then looked at him.

He recognized the expression and immediately began removing his coat.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re about to say.”

“I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh.”

She smiled.

“Thank you.”

Elias looked away.

“That was fine.”

His mother laughed quietly.

He ate dinner standing beside the counter while telling her a carefully edited version of the ridgeback encounter. He removed the number nine, the roar and the part where he’d drawn his sword.

Mara listened suspiciously.

“You’re leaving something out.”

“No.”

“You do the same thing with your eyebrows as your father.”

Elias stopped chewing.

“What do my eyebrows do?”

“I don’t know. Something dishonest.”

“That isn’t useful.”

“It is to me.”

He escaped upstairs before the interrogation improved.

Lysa was awake.

Her room had once been the brightest in the house. Maps covered one wall, along with old race ribbons, sketches of animals and several shelves filled with books. Most of the ribbons had gathered dust.

She was reading when Elias entered.

He placed the medicine beside her bed.

Lysa looked at it.

Then at him.

“You got it.”

“Yes.”

“How was the Guild?”

“I counted onions.”

She stared at him.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

That earned a laugh.

Elias sat at the edge of the chair beside her bed and told her more than he’d told their mother. Not everything, but enough.

The line.

The registration badge.

Tavian’s criminal history involving a goat.

The ridgebacks.

When he mentioned the roar, Lysa’s amusement disappeared.

“What made it?”

“We don’t know.”

“And you’re going back.”

It wasn’t a question.

“With an Iron party.”

“Elias.”

“We’re observing.”

“You’ve been an adventurer for one day.”

“Technically less.”

“That makes it worse.”

He smiled.

Lysa didn’t.

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

“You say that like careful is a thing you can calculate.”

“Most things can be improved by calculation.”

“Not everything.”

Elias looked toward the maps on her wall.

One showed the western countryside around Bellhaven. Beyond the farms, the marked roads thinned through the hills until eventually the paper simply became green ink and handwritten place names.

He’d looked at that map hundreds of times.

Tonight it seemed different.

Somewhere beyond those little painted hills was an animal he couldn’t identify from a book.

Tomorrow he would go looking for it.

Elias stood.

“Get some sleep.”

Lysa raised an eyebrow.

“You first.”

“I have things to prepare.”

“Of course you do.”

He reached the door.

“Elias?”

He looked back.

She had picked up the medicine bottle.

“Thanks.”

He nodded once.

Later, long after the house became quiet, Elias sat at his desk with the Guild manual open beneath the lamp.

He read every entry concerning predators west of Bellhaven.

Then he read them again.

Nothing matched the roar.

At one in the morning, he turned to a different book.

At two, he sharpened his sword.

Then he remembered his father’s warning and stopped after three strokes.

At two thirty-eight, Elias finally lay down.

He needed to be at the Guild by six.

Four hours would have been preferable.

Three would have to do.