Benlunar - Episode 16
A dog amongst pigeons.
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
Lilian was thoroughly enjoying her time in Hundsberg, the town in the woods where everyone kept a canine counterpart. She had spent nearly a week there, learning about its history and people and getting instruction from her friend Stephanie about how best to train Fritha, the Feinhound which to these people was an animal straight out of legend. She had become so accustomed to her false name ‘Amelia’ that she responded to it as quickly as Fritha did to one of her sour treats. She enjoyed observing the unique relationship each resident of Hundsberg had with their dog. Each dog seemed to be perfectly paired with its owner so as to serve some use in the town. Large dogs for example were paired with large and strong townsfolk who might have to pull carts or lift large bags of grain as part of their work. Smaller, more agile dogs were trained by their owners to hunt out mushrooms underground or even sniff out stolen goods or lost children. Stephanie and Leonardo were scouts, it was their job to act as a wall between Hundsberg and the rest of the world. They would keep an eye and nose out for intruders and patrol roads and countryside to dissuade travellers from getting too close. Lilian marvelled at the speed at which Leonardo would respond to Stephanie’s slightest signal. Her admiration, however, one day gave way to misgiving. She wondered if Leonardo was happy to constantly be obeying orders.
“What do you mean?” Asked Stephanie as she rubbed her stout pup on the belly. It was another sunny Summer’s day and they were out in the woods, training Fritha to find a hessian bag filled with lavender and herbs. They had hidden it in a particularly tough spot up a tree and Lilian was enjoying watching Fritha sniff around the forest floor.
“I mean, do you ever wonder if the dogs would be better off just being free to do as they pleased?” Stephanie laughed at this.
“Sometimes, but then I remember what this would mean in reality.”
“How so?” Asked Lilian as she watched Fritha find the base of the right tree but not yet figure out that she had to look up.
“Well, think about this. In just a few weeks his nails would grow too long for him to be able to walk easily. This mean he would have trouble hunting. Also, his teeth would get dirty if I didn’t clean them and so they might fall out. His hair would get matted if I did not cut it and this could infect his skin. I take care of him like he takes care of me. And as for the training…” She thought for a second gazing lovingly at her big browed brute, “If I did not train him he would always be fighting with other dogs, he would be a teenager without ever knowing that someone loved him enough to teach him how to be good. He would fight, he would test, he would get angry and he would get hurt. Do you hate your parents for teaching you to be kind and polite?” Lilian shook her head. “Well, then I don’t think he hates me for teaching him to be a good boy. And you are a good boy aren’t you Leonardo?” The dog barked a sharp and clear affirmation. Stephanie laughed.
“He is always surprising me with his kindness and humour.” Lilian had felt similar things about Fritha this past week, and wondered if they would ever have a relationship akin to that of Stephanie’s and Leonardo’s. Fritha had climbed on her hind legs and easily reached the hidden bag and was bringing it swiftly back to Lilian. This was met with much praise and a sour berry as a reward. Several happy chiming sounds came from Fritha as she munched the fruit.
“Ok,” Said Stephanie, “Now we hide it somewhere really hard!” Lilian looked around the woods for inspiration, clutching the sweet smelling bag after Fritha had dropped it at her feet. It was covered in sticky slobber and wet leaves but she didn’t mind, she was enjoying the game and wanted to put Frithas nose to the test. Just then, she spied a figure walking towards them through the trees. They were wearing a dark cloak and had a bald head.
“Isn’t that your uncle?” Said Stephanie, narrowing her eyes to see clearer. As the man approached, Lilian saw that it was indeed Mr Attorcop, who was posing her uncle while they were in Hundsberg. He When he was not too far away, he looked up and seemed surprised to see them. Lilian waved.
“Are you alright uncle?” She raised her voice to cover the distance.
“Oh yes,” He replied, “Just walking through the forest to gather my thoughts, beautiful day. Stephanie smile in reply but Lilian was confused. In the many months she’d known him this might have been the first time she heard Mr Attorcop comment on the weather. It was almost like he was a normal person. Or, she thought, doing his best imitation of a person who wanted to appear normal. They watched as he walked past them, not stopping to chat just walking straight ahead, deeper into the forest in a reassuringly strange fashion. The two young women stared at him as he went, striding confidently towards nothing in particular. Stephanie lowered her voice.
“Your uncle is a quite a bizarre man I think.” Lilian looked up at her.
“You have no idea.”
Of course Mr Attorcop had his own plan as to why he was walking through the woods that day, and he wasn’t about to waylaid by dog training sessions and he didn’t want to interrupt Lilian’s progress with that great shimmering beast. As he strode past them, he looked back down at the note in his left hand to double check he was following the instructions he had been given. The handwriting was very poor so twice now he had to hold the note up to the light to see if he did indeed need to be heading west, or was it east? No, no. Definitely west, even though no one in their right minds should be writing instructions down when their handwriting is this bad. West then, for nearly an hour, the right at the great oak and on until the, what is that word? Hillan mound? No. Hidden. Hidden mound.
“Very well.” Cromwell breathed out and strode forth. He tapped the vials of essence in his sleeve, just to make doubly sure they were still there. Over the years, this had become a force of habit but he was always glad when he found the Kerakis glass hidden in the folds of his cloak. He reminded himself that once all this wall writing nonsense was over he needed to get back to training Lilian. The mystery was however providing an amusing distraction while she got that strange creature under control. As his mind drifted to other projects and goals further down the line, he kicked conkers out of his path and admired the ancient trees around him. The forest was thick in this direction and several times he had to slow his pace to deal with obstructing vines and hedges. At one point, he got so frustrated with being tangled in sticky vines that he considered using the lunar blade but he concluded that it might be a little excessive. After some time he found what was unmistakably at the ‘great oak’ from the note. A beautiful old tree with a trunk lined and cracked from weathering the ages. Its branches reached up towards the forest canopy in a battle to beat younger trees to the sun and sky, frozen in time. He stopped and gazed at the oak for a while, wishing it all the best in its struggle. One last push, he thought. Then he turned and continued to follow the instructions until the ‘hidden mound’ made itself known. In the distance, he saw a swelling in the earth that wasn’t connected to any other hill or rock formation, it seemed to stick out of the ground like a bunion. It was not tall, the top reaching Cromwell chest. He thought it must be some sort of old burial mound, this would make sense considering its placement within the circle of trees. There was no stone to mark who was buried there, but it was possible that it would have been worn away many years ago. He walked around it twice and looked about to see if anyone had followed him or was observing from a distance. But there was no one. On his third pass around he noticed a dark patch in the leaves at the north facing base of the mound. Upon closer inspection, the discoloration was caused by a small, dark hole that had been crudely covered up by layers of leaves. He brushed a few aside and called out.
“Hello?” There was no answer, but he could tell by the quality of sound that the hole led into a larger area, under the mound. He briefly considered sticking his head inside it but then remembered that he was dealing with a population enamored with dogs and didn’t fancy getting his nose bitten off. He was sure that he had found the right place so he sat on the driest pile of leaves he could find and listened to the forest. He thought about returning to Freedos and a familiar feeling of anxiety filled his stomach. He had enjoyed his time away immensely but even he admitted that he had been putting off the inevitable for a little too long. Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the distance and opened his eyes to see who was joining him. As suspected, he saw the man from the inn, his hood up and cloth mask pulled tightly over his nose. Strangely, he didn’t have a dog with him. Cromwell was beginning to understand why dogless townsfolk from Hundsberg were avoided. They seemed, naked in some way. It was as if they had chosen loneliness as a way of life, and this didn’t make anyone desire their company, let alone their friendship. It was such a strange sight that Cromwell drew attention to it with his first question.
“Where’s your dog?” He asked, not wishing to waste time with introductions and formalities. The man came close and looked at Cromwell up and down before answering,
“Inside.” He gestured to the hole in the mound, his voice was muffled by the mask. Cromwell was unsure why he was even wearing it, it’s not like he would recognise him if he took it off. Without warning the man ducked and went head first into the hole. Cromwell sighed and realised that he would have to follow him. It was so muddy in this wood, he hated having to dirty his clothes anymore than he already had. He did not go head first, but instead put his feet in and lowered himself into the hole slowly. He kept one hand on a vial of essence just in cast this stranger decided to attack him. It was dark in the hole, not unexpectedly, and it stank of something sickly and terrible. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the hooded man struck flint into a small brass bowl filled with thick liquid. The sparks ignited it and the hole was illuminated by the flickering flames. Cromwell found himself standing in a sizable room, if this had been a tomb it had been emptied long ago. There were shelves built into the walls with jars containing various herbs, tinctures and… as he had guessed, dark red liquid. There were some hogs hair brushes lying nearby and it became clear that this was some kind of base of operations. The hooded man went about checking various food supplies and bottles and it took Cromwell a while to notice the cages along the far wall. There were five in total and each one contained a very cramped and sad looking dog. Despite a stranger entering the room, despite him having been outside for some time, none of the dogs had made a sound. He noticed the red one from the inn and saw that its fur looked matted and scabbed. The other dogs were wide eyed and trembling. Cromwell noticed their ribs poking through their fur and crusted blood around their dry noses. He had never been a big lover of animals, but he had never hated them or treated them cruelly. Looking at the hooded figure going about his business while these dogs looked on, hopeless and devoted, he felt anger enter his mind. He welcomed the emotion but kept it in check. He had a job to do, and letting anger get in the way was not going to help.
“Why did you want to see me?” The man stopped and stared at him, placing a jar of what looked like honey to one side.
“You are the man who came with the Angsthund.” Cromwell waited. This didn’t seem to be a question so he stayed silent, drawing the information out of him.
“I think we can help each other. I heard you at Der Letzte Tropfen, you were saying you wanted the people of Hundsberg to leave. You were saying the writings on the wall were right. Why were you saying these things." Cromwell wanted to stay as guarded as possible.
"I have my reasons. Are you the one who's writing on the walls?" the man paused, considering Cromwell's vague answer before replying.
"Sometimes. But I'm not the only one who thinks these things."
"But you're the only one willing to do anything about it." the man's eyes widened at Cromwell's words. He stepped forward eagerly.
"Yes. One of them yes. Hundsberg used to be a proud town. Now we hide in the trees. We are no better than the dogs we keep. Hiding and cowering from the world."
"So you thought…" interrupted Cromwell, "That you would take it upon yourself to kick start a movement."
"A movement. An exodus. A revolution. Anything, the nature of change does not matter when change is all that is needed." The man was getting frantic. As he moved around the room in quick, erratic motions Cromwell caught sight of a knife handle protruding from a sheath in his belt. This wasn’t an uncommon site in Hundsberg, but its appearance here suddenly made Cromwell very aware of the confined space and single exit.
“What is your name sir?” He decided to try and distract the man from his feverish obsession with change, hopefully drawing him back to reality and the present moment. It worked for an instant when he froze and looked back at Cromwell, then cast a flashing glance at the dogs in their cages.
“My name is not important, my message is what people will remember.” His choice of words and his brief look at the dogs made something fall into place in the puzzle inside Cromwell’s head. The picture was becoming clearer. Just then, the man seemed to ready himself to take a risk, he breathed deeply and turned head on to look at Cromwell directly. Cromwell, shifted his feet, ready to defend himself if necessary.
“You have the Angsthund. The people of Hundsberg will listen to you. I heard you in Der Letzte Tropfen. I think you should help me. I want you to convince Zinnia and the elders to leave and start a new Hundsberg. I think we should start building near the river to the east.” He rummaged around in a box under a makeshift table and got out some parchment with a crude map on it. Cromwell recognised the shape of the river but noticed errors such as Hundsberg’s likely placing within the forest, as well as the position of the crossroads. He stabbed and pointed at various places on it.
“Here would also work because it is near the road.” He muttered under his breath in his native language considering different options. Cromwell had a suspicion forming in his mind. He decided to end the charade and get to the heart of the matter quickly.
“Yes I think I could help you. I can certainly try, but…” He sighed and made a show of some frustration, “They do seem to love the town as it is. What if they refuse to listen?” The hooded man turned slowly back from his map. Cromwell couldn’t be certain, but judging from the creases forming around his eyes, he could have sworn the man was smiling. The smile quickly faded to a burning intensity. The man spoke in a serious tone, pulling back his robes to reveal his knife by his side.
“Then I am afraid we must take action. I do not want to see Hundsberg die. If someone has to die to prevent this, then I shall do what must be done.”
And there it was. The reason behind all of this nonsense. In that moment, Cromwell’s suspicions were confirmed. This wasn’t about a cause. This wasn’t about the greater good of a community. Cromwell had recognised the stink of it as soon as he stepped into this dingy excuse of a hideout. He’d smelt it that one time in the attic in Bonneville, he’d smelt it on the battlefields of Duran, the stench was as unmistakable as it was disgusting: Evil.
Now that he knew what he was dealing with, Cromwell Attorcop could act accordingly. There was just one matter that needed attending to, Cromwell was so used to working alone that he almost forgot to check before he acted.
“I understand.” He said reassuringly, “I should speak to my niece, she might be able to help us…” The hooded man, cut him off.
“No I don’t think so. Your niece has been working with the townsfolk very closely and I do not think she will help us. They have deceived her you see. This is what they do.” His rising anger sparked a feeling of pride in Cromwell. Had he not been wearing that mask, Cromwell wagered he might see some nasty cuts and bruises on the man’s face.
“Besides,” The man said turning to look at the dogs, “I have someone watching her in case she causes trouble.” This made Cromwell’s stomach drop. He had considered that the man would not be working alone, but assumed Lilian would be safe with her new friend, was that not the case?
“What exactly would you have me do?” Cromwell asked the question in the hopes of getting things moving along so that he could go back to check on Lilian. The man went over to one of the dog cages, he picked up a pile of rags lying on top of it and threw them at Cromwell.
“Put this on.” He then bent down to let the black and white dog in the cage out. Cromwell looked down at the cloth in his hands, it was a similar colour to the man’s hooded cloak, a sort of dark mottled green. He felt something hard buried in the folds, unwrapping it he found a long rusted blade with a bone handle. It was a low and angry tool, not a shining proud and silver blade that might be found on the hip of a knight or noble, but a wretched and cruel thing with a single purpose as deadly and focused as the point at its end.
“And what is this for?” Asked Cromwell. The man was opening a second cage and pulling the red dog out by its collar. He looked up.
“Not what. Who. We’re going back to Hundsberg, and you’re going to help me assassinate Zinnia.” Cromwell stayed calm. He guessed something like this was coming.
“And if I refuse?” The man stood up and walked towards him. He had latched a thin rope onto the red dogs collar and handed Cromwell the ball that was attached to the other end. As the wood slapped into his palm the man looked at Cromwell and said, “Then I give the signal and my friend puts something similar into your nieces back. Either that or that great beast that is following you around. Either way, before the evening ends a blade will find a home and Hundsberg will be on course to better days. Now put on the clothes, and don’t forget the hood.”
Back in the woods near Hundsberg, Lilian was watching the sun beams stream through the trees. The sun was disappearing into the horizon and the orange glow was giving the green summer leaves an autumnal feel. Fritha was bounding towards her, lavender bag in mouth, her coat changing into a deep red as she approached. Lilian smiled, she was starting to see Fritha in a very different light. She had enjoyed every minute spent with her, ever since they met at the Padda stone ponds, but she was only just now beginning to feel a connection grow between them. She was noticing her little quirks and habits that made her even more unique and endearing. None of this would be possible if she hadn’t learnt the importance of play. She reminded herself to thank Stephanie properly when they left Hundsberg. In fact, she looked around, where was Stephanie? She thought. She had seen her only moments ago, throwing a stick for Leonardo to fetch. She couldn’t see Leonardo either. Strange, she thought.
“Fritha!” She called out and Fritha obediently lolloped towards her, thudding the earth with each heavy step. She fed her a berry when she reached her side, and continued to look about as Fritha chewed it happily. She noticed movement behind a clump of interlocking saplings and shifted a few steps to have a look. She saw Stephanie outlined against the light. She was talking to someone but Lilian couldn’t see who, the sunlight obscured their face. Lilian began to walk towards the pair and Stephanie turned when she drew close.
“We must go back to Hundsberg.” She said, “They are calling a meeting in the square, I should be there to hear what they say.” Lilian nodded and continued to approach. The person Stephanie was speaking to came into focus, they had a hood covering their head and a cloth mask pulled up over their nose and mouth. Lilian didn’t know them well enough to tell who it was from their eyes, but when she looked down she saw a wide-browed, dark muscular dog who she did recognise.
“Hello Bardat.” Said Lilian smiling. She had recognised the dog as Pippin, one of the two dogs that had knocked her and Mr Attorcop over that day she met Stephanie and Leonardo on the forest road. Bardat bowed his head towards her and gestured to both of them to follow him back to Hundsberg. Lilian was glad of the news, she had been growing tired from the day’s playing and could use a warm cup of Verbrann Suss, the milky sweet drink made from taking the sourness out of the berries that Fritha loved so much.
The three of them walked back in silence. Stephanie smiled at Lilian when Fritha began walking beside her. It was a kind and understanding smile. A smile of progress to which Lilian smiled in return, a smile of thanks and understanding. Bardat did not smile. He did not even look at them as he walked. Lilian thought little of it, she had always found him to be rather surly. When they reached Hundsberg there was already a large crowd gathering in one of the squares, a small wooden platform had been erected, presumably to give any speakers added height. Lilian saw Zinnia talking to one of the village elders and wondered if the raised platform was really necessary, considering her height. She looked tired and determined. Something about the event felt important, as if a decision had been made that might effect everyone in town and as a result, everyone had come out to bare witness. Not having Zinnia’s height, Lilian went to stand on some decking to the left of the crowd. Others were stood there and two women made room for her when she arrived. Stephanie did not follow her, choosing to chat in the crowd with two of her friends, Bardat however, did and was currently stood directly behind her. He wasn’t too tall and must have wanted a better view as well. Lilian scanned the crowd on the lookout for Mr Attorcop, he didn’t seem to have come back from his walk. Everyone was talking in low murmers, speculating as to why the meeting had been called. Lilian saw young children playing with their pups and older folk relying on their slow hounds to guide them round statues and puddles. She heard the occasional bark, but considering how many dogs were gathered in the square, this was a rare occurrence. Lilian found herself once again marvelling at the people of Hundsberg and their unique animal relationships. It started to rain softly and several people in the crowd put their hoods up or found nearby shelter under the trees that lined the square. Just then, her heart skipped a beat. She had to look again to be sure but she could have sworn she had just seen a hooded figure join the back of the crowd with a large red dog. Like many others their hood was up so their face was obscured, it wasn’t this that grabbed Lilian’s attention, the odd thing here was their dog. Lilian couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the dog that had attacked her the night she confronted the wall painter, the one responsible for all this chaos. On closer inspection, the figure looked male, they were tall and had broad shoulders. Had her attacker been that tall? She couldn’t remember. But it was certainly possible. She decided to keep an eye on them, in case she noticed anything odd.
As a hush fell on the crowd, Lilian turned to look at the stage. She tried to keep an eye on the man with the red dog, but she had difficulty doing so whilst looking at Zinnia who was now climbing on to the platform and motioning the crowd to be quiet. Her dog, Otto, sat beside her. Lilian thought it more important to keep an eye on her suspect so she elected to listen to Zinnia whilst watching the man with the red dog. Zinnia addressed the crowd in their native language so Lilian could only guess as to what she was saying. The faces in the crowd looked solem. Lilian didn’t need to understand the Zinnia’s words to know that she was delivering a serious message. Even the dogs seemed subdued, sensing the atmosphere from their masters. After a few minutes, Lilian’s attention was snapped back from scanning the crowd when she noticed motion out of the corner of her eye. The man with the red dog was moving. He was slow and deliberately moving forward, through the crowd. He was careful as he did so, making sure to lay a soft hand on anyone’s shoulder so that they would move out of the way without being bumped or shocked. The red dog followed several feet behind him, tracing the line he was making through the spectators. Lilian’s heart began to beat faster. She considered shouting out, drawing attention to the man but what if he was just an old man trying to get a better view of the stage? Could she be sure this was the same person as that night? He seemed taller, somehow slower in his movements but her head had been filled with adrenaline that night so she could easily be mistaken. No one in the crowd seemed to think this man out of place. Lilian told herself to calm down, she reminded herself that she was in a square with an entire town. The messenger, whoever it was, preferred to work in darkness and alone. This thought drew Lilan’s attention to the evening’s fading light, the sky was still blue in patches where it wasn’t cloudy but the sun had disappeared around the time Zinnia started speaking. The rain was now beginning to pick up making Lilian feel sorry for all the dogs without their own cloaks and hoods. They did not seem to mind however. The rain did make it slightly harder to keep an eye on the man with the red dog but Lilian was still tracking him as he made his way through the crowd. Surely if he was just seeking a better view of the stage, he would have stopped by now, she thought. And then she saw something strange. From within the folds of the cloak she caught sight of a light. It flickered and moved with each step. It was like the man was holding a mirror that was catching the last of the evening light. And then Lilian’s stomach dropped as the realisation dawned on her. It wasn’t a mirror, it was a blade. The man was past the mid section of the crowd and his pace was increasing, all of Lilian’s suspicions had been confirmed. The man was heading straight for Zinnia and he was carrying a knife. Lilian was running out of time, she decided quickly to raise the alarm, she was going to point at the man and have everyone look at him as she shouted the word ‘knife’ as loud as she could. She breathed in deeply and began to form the word with her tongue, when she felt a rough hand clasp over her mouth and she was pulled head and then body backwards into the shadows.