Primeval fic: A Gathering Of Forces 2: The Darkness of Ignorance
Title: A Gathering Of Forces 2: The Darkness of Ignorance
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~5990
Characters: Stephen Hart, Nick Cutter, James Lester, Finn (OC), OCs
Rating: 15
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace. Finn belongs to Fredbassett.
A/N: For my Primeval Bingo Card (round 2) prompt: Teacher. Part Two of my A Gathering Of Forces AU Fantasy 'verse. Part One is here. Thanks go to the wonderful Fififolle for the beta and sub-title.
Stephen was browsing the market for fresh vegetables for dinner when he heard his name being called; he looked up and waved when he saw one of the college students. “Over here, Toby.”
Toby grinned before trotting over to him and he waved a letter at him. “The Professor asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Extra credits?” Stephen asked as he used his penknife to slice the letter open.
“I needed to shop for my own dinner.” Toby shrugged. “Besides which, it pays to keep on the right side of the man.”
“True, so I better see what's so urgent it couldn't wait for me to get back,” Stephen muttered, hearing Toby chuckling as the student left him to peruse the letter in private.
***
Stephen took the steep steps up to Nick's rooms two at a time, wondering exactly what his friend had a bee in his bonnet about now, and just how much trouble it would cause this time. He sighed when he entered Nick's rooms and found them in even more disarray than normal even for his disorganised friend. “Nick? Are you in here?”
“In here, Stephen.” Nick called out from the room he used as his bed chamber.
Stephen stepped over the piles of parchments and scattered books as made his way towards the room and peered inside to see his friend packing frantically. “What are you doing?”
Nick looked up before looking down at the clothes in his hands. “Packing?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “So I see, Nick, but your letter didn't go into detail.”
“Ah, yes.” Nick dropped his clothing into his bags. “I didn't want anyone else to find out what I discovered.”
Stephen frowned. “Nick, as far as I can tell, you're the only one at the college with the slightest interest in your subject. Why would anyone else be interested?” Although he could think of one person, but she'd vanished mysteriously years before... he opened his mouth before thinking better of stirring that particular dragon's nest and was relieved when Nick continued as if he'd never interrupted.
“I was looking in the library for any information I might have missed on odd occurrences of creatures turning up in records from nowhere and then never being recorded again or only centuries later.” Nick shot Stephen a look, one, he assumed, to make sure he was paying attention. “Anyway, there was a librarian working near me tiding up the shelves and she dropped several scrolls. I stopped to help pick them up and spotted it.”
“Spotted what?”
“Oh, a scroll attributed to Robert the Red, a scholar at this college some two hundred and fifty years ago and rumoured to be a mage of dark intent.”
“What's that got to do with your research into anomalous sightings of creatures?” Stephen asked.
“Well... Robert was one of the first scholars who noticed the discrepancy in the records and set out to investigate them. Of course, that was before he became fascinated by the darker side of magic and left the college to continue his studies alone.”
Nick had that look about him that Stephen recognised far too well. “Fine, so where are we off to this time?”
“I continued my search in the library to see if I could find any more information about Robert and the rumoured location of his research,” Nick informed him as he frowned at his bags.
Stephen's gaze followed Nick's before he suppressed a sigh, his friend still had no idea how to pack even after multiple expeditions. He nudged Nick out of the way before unpacking and repacking his bags for him. “And you found somewhere to look?”
“Oh yes.” Nick almost crowed in his excitement. “I can't wait to get there and have a look.”
Stephen smiled slightly at Nick's enthusiasm. “Right, since you're packing I assume it is out of the city?” At Nick's nod, he started to tick points off on his fingers. “We need to sort out supplies, plot a route through the nearest villages to the location and have the right equipment to explore when we get there.”
“Ah...” Nick murmured before shrugging. “You usually sort all that out...”
“And I will, once you tell me where we're going.”
“Ah, from my research, I believe that when Robert left the college he built a tower called Bealdan, which is rumoured to be near to Blacbyr on the Bedeald.”
Stephen blinked at Nick for several moments as his brain tried to come to terms with what his ears were telling him. “You're saying he lived on the bloody Barrow Downs? Not just that, but near to what is considered to be the most haunted place on those burial grounds?”
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Is that a problem? Ghosts and gasts don't exist, Stephen, they're just tales parents tell their children to frighten them.”
Stephen sighed heavily. “Maybe, but we'll still get no students volunteering and no porters or guards willing to go there, not for the amount of money we could pay. Only you would want to go to that benighted place.” He paused to think about what they'd need for the trip and what they could do without, considering it would just be them and maybe a few mules. “Give me a day or so and I'll find the best route and sort out the supplies we'll need.”
“Thanks, Stephen, I knew you'd come through for me.” Nick clapped Stephen's shoulder and turned back to his bags. “I suppose I'll need some of this tomorrow.”
“I'll start finding our equipment,” Stephen told him, already making a list of all the things he'd need to find out about before he could even start that task. He'd needed to find maps of the area and what dangers they could expect both on the journey and more importantly, on the Downs themselves. Not to mention plotting their route and deciding where to camp before ascending the Downs.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Nick called out to him, “The nearest village is a place called Remmnan, just at the foot of the Downs.”
Well, Stephen thought, that took care of where their base camp would be. He should be used to Nick forgetting to mention something important, especially when he was so distracted by his thoughts of Robert and the anomalies in the records that both men were so fascinated by.
***
It took Stephen less than a week to find all the supplies they'd need, including maps that showed the villages and landscape between Wearcester and the village of Remmnan. To keep Nick occupied and out of his hair, Stephen had given him the task of locating information on the Barrow Downs, including any maps of the area - not that they'd impressed him, being marked up with such helpful comments as 'Here be gasts'. He supposed he should count himself lucky no one had put 'Here be dragons' on it, with the distinct possibility that they might be telling the truth, although Stephen couldn't see what any dragon could possibly want with such a windswept and desolate place. No, they'd be happier in either the Isenfells or further north, in the majestic peaks of the aptly named Dragon's Fire Mountains.
No, from the information Nick had found on the Downs, they were most likely to run into gasts - and even if Nick didn't believe in them, Stephen still had him obtain amulets of protection from the college Dean, he had no wish to deal with the man who thought anyone not a full-time scholar was an idiot - and possibly the odd troll, most of which were easy to confuse and if not, well, he had his falchion and bow for protection.
***
The journey to Remmnan had proven easier than Stephen had expected, but then he'd planned every step to ensure they spent most nights in a village inn and the few they had to sleep rough he made sure they were well concealed from any passing danger - man, animal or other.
He half expected the villagers of Remmnan to be depressed and miserable, living so close to the edge of the Downs and whatever miasma emanated from it. He was surprised when they rode into Remmnan to find the children laughing and playing and the adults friendly, he wondered if being at the end of the mining trail to the Isenfells helped or if something else protected the village from the Down's influence... before he remembered that he didn't believe the Downs were evil, they were merely burial sites from the distant past and ripe pickings for bard's tales.
Stephen smiled as he spied the inn's sign and started to turn his mule into its yard, pausing when he realised Nick had continued straight on. “Nick?”
“Come on, Stephen.” Nick gestured towards the Downs. “It's just there.”
Stephen shook his head. “It's dusk in two hours.” He pointed towards the inn. “We'd be better stopping for the night at the inn. We can get a good night's sleep and start first thing in the morning.” When Nick looked as if he might still insist on continuing their journey, Stephen added, “Besides which, I'm hungry.”
The inn, 'The Raven's Roost', was somewhat basic although more than adequate as far as Stephen was concerned - it had rooms for both him and Nick, as well as food and a fine ale. The innkeeper, one aptly named Frederick the Brewer, was a gruff but friendly man with a bushy brown beard and wild hair, no matter how often his wife, Jemma, tried to tame it. Their numerous sons and daughters helped in the inn - from Sally, the eldest, who flirted with Stephen to the youngest, Samuel, who listened to their tales with wide eyes when he wasn't being chased to do his chores.
Stephen and Nick shared a meal of hearty mutton stew, spiced potatoes and fresh bread, all washed down with Frederick's Black Feather Ale. As strangers to the village, they found themselves the centre of attention, especially when Nick mentioned they were attached to the college at Wearcester.
Edward, the portly village hetman, who had only the barest fringe of greying hair on his scalp and flabby jowls, sat down heavily on a chair. “What brings you to our fair village?”
Nick shrugged. “I found a reference to a Robert the Red...” His voice trailed off as even he noticed the hush that fell over the inn.
Stephen stepped in before the situation deteriorated any further. “Nick's an expert in animals, I understood that this Robert the Red wrote several papers on some now extinct ones which our Dean was hoping to add to our college records.”
“Extinct?” Samuel asked before ducking behind his sister, Sally, who put a protective hand on his shoulder.
“It means they aren't around any more,” Stephen explained to the boy.
“Then why look for them papers?” Peter, the young and well-built village blacksmith, enquired.
Stephen shrugged before leaning forwards as if imparting a great secret. “You know, I wonder that.” He shot a look at Nick before continuing, “I think it is just so they have everything recorded.”
Peter nodded. “Likes the mining wagons. Every ingot has to be accounted for.”
“Precisely,” Nick nodded. “The Dean wants to have the biggest, most complete record of... well, everything.”
“And we're the poor bastards who have to find his records for him.” Stephen sighed deeply. “Up on the Downs in all weathers when we could be all snug and warm back home in Wearcester or in front of this lovely fire supping this fine ale,” Stephen added as he drained his tankard.
“Rights you be.” Edward nodded and pulled his pipe out, shredding a block of fibrous weed and stuffing the bowl full before striking a match. “So, your Dean would be interested in tales too, would he?”
Nick nodded and Stephen sighed again, grinning at the frown Edward gave him. “Nick's penmanship is terrible... give me a moment and I'll get my scribing set.” He stood to return to his room before turning to Nick. “And maybe Nick can get a round in to ease thirsty throats?”
The chorus of “Ayes” had Nick glaring good-naturedly at him. “Don't be long or you'll miss your own tankard.”
***
Stephen collapsed onto his bed and rubbed his aching wrist. He grunted in response to a knock on his door before glaring at Nick when he entered. “My damn hand feels like it'll fall off.”
“Nonsense.” Nick passed him over a mug of spicy coffee. “That was quick thinking about why we're here.”
“It is also the truth,” Stephen pointed out. “We're not here to continue Robert's dabbling in the dark arts.”
Nick nodded. “Aye, I didn't say it wasn't.” He sighed before leafing through the notes Stephen had made. “Some of this might be useful here, but I want to take it all back with us.”
“Like the troll who came off the Downs to trade rather than take?”
“Gods yes.” Nick agreed, “That is bloody unusual behaviour... maybe something on the Downs makes them more intelligent... or maybe it is a different species to our normal trolls?”
“Which will be a problem for us if they are and they fancy some man-flesh,” Stephen pointed out. “I wrote down a story while you were out of the room which would be of more use to us now.” He took the notes from Nick and found the one he was interested in. “Ah, here it is.” He tapped his neat handwriting. “About 100 years ago one of the local lads fell asleep guarding his father's flock and they had disappeared when he woke. Fearing his father's reaction he tracked them and the next time anyone saw him was to drag him out of the river half-drowned and gibbering fit for a madman and with his hair snow-white.”
“Considering Robert's dalliance with darkness... the boy might have found Bealdan.” Nick leaned forward to peer closely at the notes. “Does it say where they pulled him out?”
Stephen scanned his notes before nodding. “From the Remm.” He looked up, “That's the river which runs south of the village, off the Downs.” He looked thoughtful. “If he found Bealdan and something scared his wits from him, it's likely he ran in a straight line until he fell in the river.”
“So... if we follow the course of the Remm on the Downs, we should find Bealdan.”
“We'll at least have somewhere to start,” Stephen agreed.
***
Stephen couldn't hear a bloody word as he stood by the white water of the Remm and stared up at the aptly named Raven's Drop. It would be a hard climb but he knew Nick would manage it, unlike their mules, and he was glad he'd taken the innkeeper’s advice and left them at the stables. He had little fear they'd be stolen, they bore college marks and few messed with those who might be mages. He settled his pack firmly on his back and glanced back at Nick. “Ready?” He knew Nick wouldn't be able to hear him, but the look on his face and finger pointing at the cleft should let him understand what Stephen had asked.
Nick nodded and waited at the bottom of the climb as Stephen began to scale the rocks, slippery from spray and moss, but the slope wasn't too steep. He felt the rope he carried play out behind him and paused every so often to hammer a piton into a suitable crack. It took less time than he'd expected to emerge into the moaning wind at the top of the cleft and he stared for a moment across the bleak Downs, grey with drizzle even as the wind blew through the wind-twisted low trees. He glanced down to check on Nick's progress and noted that the drizzle seemed to stop at the edge of the Downs. No wonder this place had such an ill-repute.
Nick was muttering by the time he reached the top and shook his wet hair out of his eyes. “Can you see it, Stephen?”
Stephen shook his head as he pointed into the Downs. “There are tors that way and it looks like the barrows start on our left. Which do you want to try first?” He glanced up at the sky before nodding. “We've got a good few hours before we need to set up camp and I'll look for a suitable place while we're exploring. Either way should provide somewhere for us to shelter...”
“But you'd prefer the tors to disturbing some gast's rest?” Nick asked before shivering in a sudden cold breeze. “I think I would too.”
***
Stephen had to concentrate on moving slowly, even as every sense urged him to hurry and be off these haunted Downs before nightfall. The ground was rough and pitted with holes that would result in a twisted ankle at best, and the risk of attracting the attention of some thing - gast or troll - was just too high. He sighed softly and kept his eyes alert for both danger and somewhere they could camp for the night - a cold camp as any fire would attract hunters. He rubbed the anti-gast pendant around his neck and shivered as a cold breeze blow through the scraggly trees that grew along the ground rather than into the sky.
He paused when he reached the nearest tor - a giant slab of moss-covered gray rock that seemed twisted as if in agony and he could understand the name the villagers had given to this collection of tors, they really did look like men - or trolls - caught in the agonising transformation of flesh to stone.
Stephen shook his head, scattering the tales the villagers had told him and concentrated on peering around the open area between and beyond the tors. He smiled when he spotted a fallen tor, propped against one of its fellows and he realised it would provide protection for a camp, at least it would if they used some of the scrubby bushes as wind breaks. He was just about to turn to inform Nick when something about the scene registered as wrong. He peered intently at the area, his eyes scanning the tors and ground for any clue to what he'd sensed.
“Stephen?” Nick started to speak until Stephen raised a cautionary hand, when he dropped his voice to a whisper. “What is it?”
Stephen shook his head, his own voice low, “I'm not sure. Something just feels off...” He stopped and turned his head this way and that as if trying to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Every muscle tensed when he saw it - a movement there. All of his attention now fixed on the area - a patch of dirt and a grey, moss-covered stone jutting from it - and he swore softly when he slowly picked out the shape of an arm and knew exactly what he was looking at, camouflaged almost perfectly against the other tors. “Troll!” he hissed as he stepped back and held his breath, hoping the troll hadn't heard them.
He pressed himself against the tor and rested a hand on the hilt of his falchion, not wanting to draw it for fear the troll would hear the sound of metal being unsheathed. He held his breath and risked a glance at Nick, pale but steady as he gripped his own blade's hilt. Stephen strained his ears to their utmost as he listened intently for the troll. He shot Nick a warning glance when the man exhaled and relaxed, obviously thinking the troll had not sensed them.
Before Stephen could hiss a warning, he winced when he heard a scraping sound from the other side of the tor and he knew it was the troll's claws on the stone. He flinched when something dripped onto his shoulder, watching the drool slither slowly down his leather jerkin. Nick gasped and Stephen spared him a quick glare before he loosened his sword in its sheath and stared up into the underside of the troll's chin as the creature loomed above them and the tor sheltering them. If it looked down...
He almost jumped when a rustling noise came from the bushes on the other side of the tors and held his breath when the troll's head turned towards the sound. He breathed a sigh of relief when the troll lumbered off towards the sound and he caught sight of the large and wicked claws it sported on its fingers. He watched the troll disappear from sight and waited for a few more moments before beckoning Nick to follow him as he crept carefully around the tor and moved in the opposite direction the troll had gone in.
He had almost believed they'd escaped when Nick tripped over a hidden root and let out a loud yelp. Stephen froze when he heard a roar behind them and then heavy footsteps approaching fast. He grabbed Nick's hand and ran, dragging his friend over the rough ground and around scraggly bushes, hoping they didn't twist an ankle, or worse, in a hidden hole. He spotted the dark shadowy entrance of a barrow and headed towards it, hoping the troll wouldn't manage to fit inside the entrance and that the stone used to line the barrow would stop his claws if he didn't have the sense to avoid a gast-ridden barrow. He ducked his head as he barrelled through the low-roofed hole and dragged Nick around a bend in the passage where he skidded to a stop, staring around the barrow in shock, blinking in the flickering light provided by a fire and candles.
Stephen's gaze met the eerie green eyes of something within the barrow passage and he dragged his pendant from his jerkin, his fingers clenching it tightly as he drew his falchion. He started to back away before the snuffling from the entrance reminded him that there was a troll outside. “Talk about out of the frying pan...”
“Don't mind Gorre,” a deep male voice rumbled from the darkness before its owner stepped into the light and Stephen heard Nick's gasp echo his own. The... creature he faced was what he could only call a troll, although not like the one - Gorre, he assumed - who snuffled outside. This particular troll was only half again as tall as Stephen and had lynx-eyes and long, tufted ears along with a tail that flickered and swished behind him. He was also clad in clothing - well-made if rough and a mixture of leather, fur and wool. “He's hungry but my son will send him away.” He smiled, baring sharp teeth and large fangs. “I am Grim Ottarsson. We don't get many visitors up here.” He sat down on a mound of furs and gestured for the two men to likewise be seated. “Sheath your blade and sit.”
Stephen risked a glance at Nick and almost sighed when his friend eagerly sat down, Stephen carefully sheathed his falchion before joining them.
“I'm Nick Cutter, a professor of zoology at the College in Wearcester, and this is my friend, guide and protector, Stephen Hart.”
Stephen almost jumped when they heard a growl from behind them. He turned to see another troll, this one only half-a-head taller than he was, rubbing his forehead. “Damn low ceiling,” the newcomer grumbled before asking, “Did you invite them to dinner, father?”
Nick's eyes widened and he shot a worried glance at Stephen who put his hand back on his sword hilt, not that he had much hope of his chances against two trolls in such an enclosed space.
“He means that you can share our meal.” The elder troll chuckled at their reaction. “Unlike Gorre's kind, we don't eat man-flesh.”
Nick leaned forward with a look Stephen recognised and it took all his will to bite back the groan that threatened. “His kind? How many types of troll are there?”
“As many as dragons,” the elder replied before shrugging. “Different groups are common in different areas. Gorre's kind - Rock Trolls - are the ones often found in man country or near to it. It is said that Ice Trolls live in the far north and are made of ice and howling wind but I have never seen one.” He gestured to himself and his son. “Our people live to the north and west in the land of Svelleld, over the sea you call the Sea of Storms. As I said, I am Grim Ottarsson and this is my son, Finn Grimsson.”
“What brings you so far from home and to this...” Stephen waved a hand to indicate the Downs. “Rather misbegotten place?”
“The Spae-woman...” Grim began before seeing the question on Nick's face. “Ah... I believe you would call her a wise-woman?” When Nick nodded, Grim continued, “She read the omens and portents at Finn's Initiation into adulthood and declared his fate lay in these lands. So we came.” Grim turned to Finn. “Fetch the stew, boy.” While Finn was handing out bowls brimming with mutton stew to his father, Nick and Stephen before taking his own, Grim continued, “And what brings you to this cursed place?”
“We're looking for a tower built over two hundred years ago by a fellow scholar, Robert the Red.” Nick began to tell their tale to the trolls.
“I've seen ruins up here, they could be your tower,” Finn commented as he licked his bowl clean.
“Could you tell us where it is?” Nick asked earnestly.
Finn shook his head. “That's Gorre's territory, he'd hunt you down and scoff you up before you got inside the tower.” He paused before adding, “Or wait outside for you if you did reach the tower first.”
Nick gave a disappointed sigh. “Is there no way to reach it?”
Finn shrugged and looked at the other troll. “Father?”
Grim looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “We can make a deal.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “What sort of deal?”
“Simple enough,” Grim informed him. “Gorre will not attack if you are with other trolls, if I and my son accompany you...”
Nick grinned. “That would be excellent.”
“What would you want in return?” Stephen asked, noticing Nick deflate at his words.
“Nothing terrible,” Grim informed them with a smile which showed all of his sharp teeth and fangs. “I wish to return home but Finn is fated to remain here, at least for now. If you could take him with you and teach him about the world of men, until he finds what he is fated to do, we will take you to this tower.”
Stephen nodded. “He'd be safer with us than on his own.” When Finn bristled, Stephen added, “No offence, Finn, but people will see a troll and scream, if not attack you, if you're on your own.”
Grim nodded. “And with men by your side, people will be curious and listen first.”
Finn nodded, somewhat mollified by the explanation. “How those farmers reacted before we came up here.”
“So, do we have a deal?” Grim asked.
“Yes.” Nick nodded.
“Especially if Finn can tell us more about trolls and the lands you came from,” Stephen added.
“Good,” Grim smiled as he replied. “Rest, we'll start out at first light.”
***
Stephen found he slept surprisingly well considering where and in whose company he was in. They paused for a quick breakfast of rewarmed mutton stew before heading out onto the Downs. Finn led the way, with Stephen and Nick in the middle and Grim guarding the rear. They could hear roars in the distance but Stephen only spotted Gorre once, when the troll glared at them from beneath beetle-brows but didn't move to attack them. He could sense the troll was following them and knew that without the protection of Finn and his father, they would never have managed to reach the tower before he caught and ate them.
Finn paused and glanced back when Gorre gave a warning howl. “I've seen strange lights here at night, flickering and glowing as if they were candles in the breeze but no one was here.”
“We'll be careful,” Stephen promised him. “We have no wish to wake whatever Robert might have called here.”
“Good,” the elder troll muttered. “Go on, I'll keep an eye on Gorre.” He nodded towards what Stephen suddenly realised was the ruined tower. “I'm too big to fit in there.”
***
Stephen carefully checked each step before he put his full weight down, cautious of falling into whatever basement or dungeon Robert had built. They slowly explored the remains of the tower and found a crumbling staircase leading upwards.
Finn carefully poked at a stair with an unsheathed claw. “I'll check this floor and see if there is anything you might be interested in.”
Stephen didn't blame him as he edged up the stairs, testing each tread, he rather doubted the stairs would take the weight of the troll and he wasn't sure it would bear his or Nick's weight either.
Finally he reached the top of the stairs and entered a room full of scrolls and books. Most of them disintegrated when touched but a few fragments and the better preserved items were carefully packed away.
Nick continued to poke around what he declared must have been Robert's library when he spotted an item half hidden beneath a book he'd picked up. “What do you think of this?”
Stephen peered at it and frowned. “No idea, it's badly corroded but looks man-made... well, made by something.” He shrugged. “It isn't what we're looking for.”
Nick nodded before carefully turning pages over in the book he'd found. “Good Gods.”
“Nick?”
“This is Robert's personal journal.” Nick frowned as he continued reading. “Something about portals opening and...” A loud howl shattered the air. “Right, we need to take this and that,” Nick picked the object up and stuffed it into a bag.
“What's wrong?”
Nick shook his head. “I need to read this book carefully and it mentions that object.”
Stephen sighed before nodding, knowing he wouldn't be able to dissuade Nick and hoping they weren't meddling in things best left alone. “So... time to go home?”
“Nothing here,” Finn told them as they returned to the ground floor, before he eyed their full bags and asked, “Did you get what you came for?”
“Aye,” Nick agreed. “Ready to see the world of men?”
“Aye,” Finn replied as he followed them out into the sunlight to join Grim, all four shivering in a sudden gust of wind and an eerie howl from Gorre.
***
Stephen watched Finn hug his father goodbye before he picked up his own belongings and several of the bags Nick had collected from the tower. The journey back to Remmnan was easier and faster with a troll to lend his strength and height to aid their descent.
He was slightly wary of their reception upon entering Remmnan, but was pleasantly surprised when the villagers only gathered to watch them stroll into the village towards 'The Raven's Roost'. Samuel took one look at Finn and began to ask him questions and when the troll only chuckled before answering them, Stephen felt the universal sigh of relief from the gathered crowd. They spent the night in the inn, telling the tale of their adventures on the Downs and Finn passed on a few tips to avoid Gorre if they had to travel the Downs.
The trip back to Wearcester was likewise easier than Stephen would have expected, but most people seemed more curious about Finn than frightened by him. Stephen put that down to his and Nick's presence, that and the fact Finn decided to play the role of a dumb but friendly fellow. Indeed, the only time they had a problem was at the very gates of Wearcester, where the city guardsmen seemed undecided about admitting Finn, even after Nick declared he'd take responsibility for the troll. They were finally allowed through the gate when a new guardsman arrived, an eyebrow quirked as he took in their group, before he had a quiet word with his fellows. Stephen could feel the Valesman's curious gaze on him as they strolled up the street.
***
The two men and one troll spent the evening in a quiet meal and discussion of what to do first in the morning. Nick wanted to introduce Finn to the Dean while Stephen suggested showing him around the local area first. A loud and insistent knock at their door had them exchanging glances before Nick rose to answer it.
He came back into the room, the look on his face starting Stephen to his feet. “Nick?”
“We've been summoned to see James Lester, the Earl of Wearcester. The Black Wolf himself.”
“Who?” Finn asked as he licked his bowl clean.
“The ruler of the city and the surrounding lands,” Stephen told him.
“Ah,” Finn nodded. “So someone I should meet?”
“Not if you can avoid it,” Nick groused.
***
Stephen glanced around the room they were left in, noticing the numerous books and making a mental note to keep an eye on Nick.
“Gentlemen.” The voice almost had Stephen jumping and did have Nick starting, although Finn didn't seem surprised by the appearance of the impeccably dressed man sitting behind a desk. “I understand you've had a successful trip.”
Nick's eyes narrowed. “How...” He trailed off as a door opened and a beautiful woman glided in to hand the Earl a document before she turned, nodded and smiled in recognition at Nick, and left. “She... that woman. She's the one who dropped the scroll.” He turned towards the Earl. “You set it up.”
James quirked an eyebrow and didn't bother to deny it. “I gave you something you wanted, the fact I might have gained something from it, well...” He leaned forward. “Of course, that depends on what you did find.” He steepled his fingers. “I want a copy of all your notes.”
“Copies?” Stephen queried.
“I'm not going to stop your research.” James quirked an elegant eyebrow. “In fact... work for me and I'll see that your research is well funded.” His gaze rested on Finn for a moment before he added, “And your new friend might find life easier in the city if he is under the protection of the Black Wolf himself...”
Nick glared at James before sighing, “Fine, but Finn makes his own decisions.”
Finn looked between his friends and the Earl, his tail twitching nervously. “I would need to know what the Black Wolf would want of me first.”
James smiled and it reminded Stephen of the smile Grim had given. “Excellent. I believe we have many things to discuss, young Master Finn.” He glanced at a clock on his desk, “But not now. Do see Jenny on your way out and she'll arrange a time.” He picked up a document from his desk, “Welcome to the city of Wearcester, Finn. Gentlemen.”
Stephen recognised a dismissal when he heard one and grabbed Nick's arm before he could begin to argue with the most powerful man in the city. They would stop to see this Jenny and then return to their quarters to discuss the matter, but Stephen knew few people dared to say no to the Black Wolf.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~5990
Characters: Stephen Hart, Nick Cutter, James Lester, Finn (OC), OCs
Rating: 15
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace. Finn belongs to Fredbassett.
A/N: For my Primeval Bingo Card (round 2) prompt: Teacher. Part Two of my A Gathering Of Forces AU Fantasy 'verse. Part One is here. Thanks go to the wonderful Fififolle for the beta and sub-title.
Stephen was browsing the market for fresh vegetables for dinner when he heard his name being called; he looked up and waved when he saw one of the college students. “Over here, Toby.”
Toby grinned before trotting over to him and he waved a letter at him. “The Professor asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Extra credits?” Stephen asked as he used his penknife to slice the letter open.
“I needed to shop for my own dinner.” Toby shrugged. “Besides which, it pays to keep on the right side of the man.”
“True, so I better see what's so urgent it couldn't wait for me to get back,” Stephen muttered, hearing Toby chuckling as the student left him to peruse the letter in private.
***
Stephen took the steep steps up to Nick's rooms two at a time, wondering exactly what his friend had a bee in his bonnet about now, and just how much trouble it would cause this time. He sighed when he entered Nick's rooms and found them in even more disarray than normal even for his disorganised friend. “Nick? Are you in here?”
“In here, Stephen.” Nick called out from the room he used as his bed chamber.
Stephen stepped over the piles of parchments and scattered books as made his way towards the room and peered inside to see his friend packing frantically. “What are you doing?”
Nick looked up before looking down at the clothes in his hands. “Packing?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “So I see, Nick, but your letter didn't go into detail.”
“Ah, yes.” Nick dropped his clothing into his bags. “I didn't want anyone else to find out what I discovered.”
Stephen frowned. “Nick, as far as I can tell, you're the only one at the college with the slightest interest in your subject. Why would anyone else be interested?” Although he could think of one person, but she'd vanished mysteriously years before... he opened his mouth before thinking better of stirring that particular dragon's nest and was relieved when Nick continued as if he'd never interrupted.
“I was looking in the library for any information I might have missed on odd occurrences of creatures turning up in records from nowhere and then never being recorded again or only centuries later.” Nick shot Stephen a look, one, he assumed, to make sure he was paying attention. “Anyway, there was a librarian working near me tiding up the shelves and she dropped several scrolls. I stopped to help pick them up and spotted it.”
“Spotted what?”
“Oh, a scroll attributed to Robert the Red, a scholar at this college some two hundred and fifty years ago and rumoured to be a mage of dark intent.”
“What's that got to do with your research into anomalous sightings of creatures?” Stephen asked.
“Well... Robert was one of the first scholars who noticed the discrepancy in the records and set out to investigate them. Of course, that was before he became fascinated by the darker side of magic and left the college to continue his studies alone.”
Nick had that look about him that Stephen recognised far too well. “Fine, so where are we off to this time?”
“I continued my search in the library to see if I could find any more information about Robert and the rumoured location of his research,” Nick informed him as he frowned at his bags.
Stephen's gaze followed Nick's before he suppressed a sigh, his friend still had no idea how to pack even after multiple expeditions. He nudged Nick out of the way before unpacking and repacking his bags for him. “And you found somewhere to look?”
“Oh yes.” Nick almost crowed in his excitement. “I can't wait to get there and have a look.”
Stephen smiled slightly at Nick's enthusiasm. “Right, since you're packing I assume it is out of the city?” At Nick's nod, he started to tick points off on his fingers. “We need to sort out supplies, plot a route through the nearest villages to the location and have the right equipment to explore when we get there.”
“Ah...” Nick murmured before shrugging. “You usually sort all that out...”
“And I will, once you tell me where we're going.”
“Ah, from my research, I believe that when Robert left the college he built a tower called Bealdan, which is rumoured to be near to Blacbyr on the Bedeald.”
Stephen blinked at Nick for several moments as his brain tried to come to terms with what his ears were telling him. “You're saying he lived on the bloody Barrow Downs? Not just that, but near to what is considered to be the most haunted place on those burial grounds?”
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Is that a problem? Ghosts and gasts don't exist, Stephen, they're just tales parents tell their children to frighten them.”
Stephen sighed heavily. “Maybe, but we'll still get no students volunteering and no porters or guards willing to go there, not for the amount of money we could pay. Only you would want to go to that benighted place.” He paused to think about what they'd need for the trip and what they could do without, considering it would just be them and maybe a few mules. “Give me a day or so and I'll find the best route and sort out the supplies we'll need.”
“Thanks, Stephen, I knew you'd come through for me.” Nick clapped Stephen's shoulder and turned back to his bags. “I suppose I'll need some of this tomorrow.”
“I'll start finding our equipment,” Stephen told him, already making a list of all the things he'd need to find out about before he could even start that task. He'd needed to find maps of the area and what dangers they could expect both on the journey and more importantly, on the Downs themselves. Not to mention plotting their route and deciding where to camp before ascending the Downs.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Nick called out to him, “The nearest village is a place called Remmnan, just at the foot of the Downs.”
Well, Stephen thought, that took care of where their base camp would be. He should be used to Nick forgetting to mention something important, especially when he was so distracted by his thoughts of Robert and the anomalies in the records that both men were so fascinated by.
***
It took Stephen less than a week to find all the supplies they'd need, including maps that showed the villages and landscape between Wearcester and the village of Remmnan. To keep Nick occupied and out of his hair, Stephen had given him the task of locating information on the Barrow Downs, including any maps of the area - not that they'd impressed him, being marked up with such helpful comments as 'Here be gasts'. He supposed he should count himself lucky no one had put 'Here be dragons' on it, with the distinct possibility that they might be telling the truth, although Stephen couldn't see what any dragon could possibly want with such a windswept and desolate place. No, they'd be happier in either the Isenfells or further north, in the majestic peaks of the aptly named Dragon's Fire Mountains.
No, from the information Nick had found on the Downs, they were most likely to run into gasts - and even if Nick didn't believe in them, Stephen still had him obtain amulets of protection from the college Dean, he had no wish to deal with the man who thought anyone not a full-time scholar was an idiot - and possibly the odd troll, most of which were easy to confuse and if not, well, he had his falchion and bow for protection.
***
The journey to Remmnan had proven easier than Stephen had expected, but then he'd planned every step to ensure they spent most nights in a village inn and the few they had to sleep rough he made sure they were well concealed from any passing danger - man, animal or other.
He half expected the villagers of Remmnan to be depressed and miserable, living so close to the edge of the Downs and whatever miasma emanated from it. He was surprised when they rode into Remmnan to find the children laughing and playing and the adults friendly, he wondered if being at the end of the mining trail to the Isenfells helped or if something else protected the village from the Down's influence... before he remembered that he didn't believe the Downs were evil, they were merely burial sites from the distant past and ripe pickings for bard's tales.
Stephen smiled as he spied the inn's sign and started to turn his mule into its yard, pausing when he realised Nick had continued straight on. “Nick?”
“Come on, Stephen.” Nick gestured towards the Downs. “It's just there.”
Stephen shook his head. “It's dusk in two hours.” He pointed towards the inn. “We'd be better stopping for the night at the inn. We can get a good night's sleep and start first thing in the morning.” When Nick looked as if he might still insist on continuing their journey, Stephen added, “Besides which, I'm hungry.”
The inn, 'The Raven's Roost', was somewhat basic although more than adequate as far as Stephen was concerned - it had rooms for both him and Nick, as well as food and a fine ale. The innkeeper, one aptly named Frederick the Brewer, was a gruff but friendly man with a bushy brown beard and wild hair, no matter how often his wife, Jemma, tried to tame it. Their numerous sons and daughters helped in the inn - from Sally, the eldest, who flirted with Stephen to the youngest, Samuel, who listened to their tales with wide eyes when he wasn't being chased to do his chores.
Stephen and Nick shared a meal of hearty mutton stew, spiced potatoes and fresh bread, all washed down with Frederick's Black Feather Ale. As strangers to the village, they found themselves the centre of attention, especially when Nick mentioned they were attached to the college at Wearcester.
Edward, the portly village hetman, who had only the barest fringe of greying hair on his scalp and flabby jowls, sat down heavily on a chair. “What brings you to our fair village?”
Nick shrugged. “I found a reference to a Robert the Red...” His voice trailed off as even he noticed the hush that fell over the inn.
Stephen stepped in before the situation deteriorated any further. “Nick's an expert in animals, I understood that this Robert the Red wrote several papers on some now extinct ones which our Dean was hoping to add to our college records.”
“Extinct?” Samuel asked before ducking behind his sister, Sally, who put a protective hand on his shoulder.
“It means they aren't around any more,” Stephen explained to the boy.
“Then why look for them papers?” Peter, the young and well-built village blacksmith, enquired.
Stephen shrugged before leaning forwards as if imparting a great secret. “You know, I wonder that.” He shot a look at Nick before continuing, “I think it is just so they have everything recorded.”
Peter nodded. “Likes the mining wagons. Every ingot has to be accounted for.”
“Precisely,” Nick nodded. “The Dean wants to have the biggest, most complete record of... well, everything.”
“And we're the poor bastards who have to find his records for him.” Stephen sighed deeply. “Up on the Downs in all weathers when we could be all snug and warm back home in Wearcester or in front of this lovely fire supping this fine ale,” Stephen added as he drained his tankard.
“Rights you be.” Edward nodded and pulled his pipe out, shredding a block of fibrous weed and stuffing the bowl full before striking a match. “So, your Dean would be interested in tales too, would he?”
Nick nodded and Stephen sighed again, grinning at the frown Edward gave him. “Nick's penmanship is terrible... give me a moment and I'll get my scribing set.” He stood to return to his room before turning to Nick. “And maybe Nick can get a round in to ease thirsty throats?”
The chorus of “Ayes” had Nick glaring good-naturedly at him. “Don't be long or you'll miss your own tankard.”
***
Stephen collapsed onto his bed and rubbed his aching wrist. He grunted in response to a knock on his door before glaring at Nick when he entered. “My damn hand feels like it'll fall off.”
“Nonsense.” Nick passed him over a mug of spicy coffee. “That was quick thinking about why we're here.”
“It is also the truth,” Stephen pointed out. “We're not here to continue Robert's dabbling in the dark arts.”
Nick nodded. “Aye, I didn't say it wasn't.” He sighed before leafing through the notes Stephen had made. “Some of this might be useful here, but I want to take it all back with us.”
“Like the troll who came off the Downs to trade rather than take?”
“Gods yes.” Nick agreed, “That is bloody unusual behaviour... maybe something on the Downs makes them more intelligent... or maybe it is a different species to our normal trolls?”
“Which will be a problem for us if they are and they fancy some man-flesh,” Stephen pointed out. “I wrote down a story while you were out of the room which would be of more use to us now.” He took the notes from Nick and found the one he was interested in. “Ah, here it is.” He tapped his neat handwriting. “About 100 years ago one of the local lads fell asleep guarding his father's flock and they had disappeared when he woke. Fearing his father's reaction he tracked them and the next time anyone saw him was to drag him out of the river half-drowned and gibbering fit for a madman and with his hair snow-white.”
“Considering Robert's dalliance with darkness... the boy might have found Bealdan.” Nick leaned forward to peer closely at the notes. “Does it say where they pulled him out?”
Stephen scanned his notes before nodding. “From the Remm.” He looked up, “That's the river which runs south of the village, off the Downs.” He looked thoughtful. “If he found Bealdan and something scared his wits from him, it's likely he ran in a straight line until he fell in the river.”
“So... if we follow the course of the Remm on the Downs, we should find Bealdan.”
“We'll at least have somewhere to start,” Stephen agreed.
***
Stephen couldn't hear a bloody word as he stood by the white water of the Remm and stared up at the aptly named Raven's Drop. It would be a hard climb but he knew Nick would manage it, unlike their mules, and he was glad he'd taken the innkeeper’s advice and left them at the stables. He had little fear they'd be stolen, they bore college marks and few messed with those who might be mages. He settled his pack firmly on his back and glanced back at Nick. “Ready?” He knew Nick wouldn't be able to hear him, but the look on his face and finger pointing at the cleft should let him understand what Stephen had asked.
Nick nodded and waited at the bottom of the climb as Stephen began to scale the rocks, slippery from spray and moss, but the slope wasn't too steep. He felt the rope he carried play out behind him and paused every so often to hammer a piton into a suitable crack. It took less time than he'd expected to emerge into the moaning wind at the top of the cleft and he stared for a moment across the bleak Downs, grey with drizzle even as the wind blew through the wind-twisted low trees. He glanced down to check on Nick's progress and noted that the drizzle seemed to stop at the edge of the Downs. No wonder this place had such an ill-repute.
Nick was muttering by the time he reached the top and shook his wet hair out of his eyes. “Can you see it, Stephen?”
Stephen shook his head as he pointed into the Downs. “There are tors that way and it looks like the barrows start on our left. Which do you want to try first?” He glanced up at the sky before nodding. “We've got a good few hours before we need to set up camp and I'll look for a suitable place while we're exploring. Either way should provide somewhere for us to shelter...”
“But you'd prefer the tors to disturbing some gast's rest?” Nick asked before shivering in a sudden cold breeze. “I think I would too.”
***
Stephen had to concentrate on moving slowly, even as every sense urged him to hurry and be off these haunted Downs before nightfall. The ground was rough and pitted with holes that would result in a twisted ankle at best, and the risk of attracting the attention of some thing - gast or troll - was just too high. He sighed softly and kept his eyes alert for both danger and somewhere they could camp for the night - a cold camp as any fire would attract hunters. He rubbed the anti-gast pendant around his neck and shivered as a cold breeze blow through the scraggly trees that grew along the ground rather than into the sky.
He paused when he reached the nearest tor - a giant slab of moss-covered gray rock that seemed twisted as if in agony and he could understand the name the villagers had given to this collection of tors, they really did look like men - or trolls - caught in the agonising transformation of flesh to stone.
Stephen shook his head, scattering the tales the villagers had told him and concentrated on peering around the open area between and beyond the tors. He smiled when he spotted a fallen tor, propped against one of its fellows and he realised it would provide protection for a camp, at least it would if they used some of the scrubby bushes as wind breaks. He was just about to turn to inform Nick when something about the scene registered as wrong. He peered intently at the area, his eyes scanning the tors and ground for any clue to what he'd sensed.
“Stephen?” Nick started to speak until Stephen raised a cautionary hand, when he dropped his voice to a whisper. “What is it?”
Stephen shook his head, his own voice low, “I'm not sure. Something just feels off...” He stopped and turned his head this way and that as if trying to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Every muscle tensed when he saw it - a movement there. All of his attention now fixed on the area - a patch of dirt and a grey, moss-covered stone jutting from it - and he swore softly when he slowly picked out the shape of an arm and knew exactly what he was looking at, camouflaged almost perfectly against the other tors. “Troll!” he hissed as he stepped back and held his breath, hoping the troll hadn't heard them.
He pressed himself against the tor and rested a hand on the hilt of his falchion, not wanting to draw it for fear the troll would hear the sound of metal being unsheathed. He held his breath and risked a glance at Nick, pale but steady as he gripped his own blade's hilt. Stephen strained his ears to their utmost as he listened intently for the troll. He shot Nick a warning glance when the man exhaled and relaxed, obviously thinking the troll had not sensed them.
Before Stephen could hiss a warning, he winced when he heard a scraping sound from the other side of the tor and he knew it was the troll's claws on the stone. He flinched when something dripped onto his shoulder, watching the drool slither slowly down his leather jerkin. Nick gasped and Stephen spared him a quick glare before he loosened his sword in its sheath and stared up into the underside of the troll's chin as the creature loomed above them and the tor sheltering them. If it looked down...
He almost jumped when a rustling noise came from the bushes on the other side of the tors and held his breath when the troll's head turned towards the sound. He breathed a sigh of relief when the troll lumbered off towards the sound and he caught sight of the large and wicked claws it sported on its fingers. He watched the troll disappear from sight and waited for a few more moments before beckoning Nick to follow him as he crept carefully around the tor and moved in the opposite direction the troll had gone in.
He had almost believed they'd escaped when Nick tripped over a hidden root and let out a loud yelp. Stephen froze when he heard a roar behind them and then heavy footsteps approaching fast. He grabbed Nick's hand and ran, dragging his friend over the rough ground and around scraggly bushes, hoping they didn't twist an ankle, or worse, in a hidden hole. He spotted the dark shadowy entrance of a barrow and headed towards it, hoping the troll wouldn't manage to fit inside the entrance and that the stone used to line the barrow would stop his claws if he didn't have the sense to avoid a gast-ridden barrow. He ducked his head as he barrelled through the low-roofed hole and dragged Nick around a bend in the passage where he skidded to a stop, staring around the barrow in shock, blinking in the flickering light provided by a fire and candles.
Stephen's gaze met the eerie green eyes of something within the barrow passage and he dragged his pendant from his jerkin, his fingers clenching it tightly as he drew his falchion. He started to back away before the snuffling from the entrance reminded him that there was a troll outside. “Talk about out of the frying pan...”
“Don't mind Gorre,” a deep male voice rumbled from the darkness before its owner stepped into the light and Stephen heard Nick's gasp echo his own. The... creature he faced was what he could only call a troll, although not like the one - Gorre, he assumed - who snuffled outside. This particular troll was only half again as tall as Stephen and had lynx-eyes and long, tufted ears along with a tail that flickered and swished behind him. He was also clad in clothing - well-made if rough and a mixture of leather, fur and wool. “He's hungry but my son will send him away.” He smiled, baring sharp teeth and large fangs. “I am Grim Ottarsson. We don't get many visitors up here.” He sat down on a mound of furs and gestured for the two men to likewise be seated. “Sheath your blade and sit.”
Stephen risked a glance at Nick and almost sighed when his friend eagerly sat down, Stephen carefully sheathed his falchion before joining them.
“I'm Nick Cutter, a professor of zoology at the College in Wearcester, and this is my friend, guide and protector, Stephen Hart.”
Stephen almost jumped when they heard a growl from behind them. He turned to see another troll, this one only half-a-head taller than he was, rubbing his forehead. “Damn low ceiling,” the newcomer grumbled before asking, “Did you invite them to dinner, father?”
Nick's eyes widened and he shot a worried glance at Stephen who put his hand back on his sword hilt, not that he had much hope of his chances against two trolls in such an enclosed space.
“He means that you can share our meal.” The elder troll chuckled at their reaction. “Unlike Gorre's kind, we don't eat man-flesh.”
Nick leaned forward with a look Stephen recognised and it took all his will to bite back the groan that threatened. “His kind? How many types of troll are there?”
“As many as dragons,” the elder replied before shrugging. “Different groups are common in different areas. Gorre's kind - Rock Trolls - are the ones often found in man country or near to it. It is said that Ice Trolls live in the far north and are made of ice and howling wind but I have never seen one.” He gestured to himself and his son. “Our people live to the north and west in the land of Svelleld, over the sea you call the Sea of Storms. As I said, I am Grim Ottarsson and this is my son, Finn Grimsson.”
“What brings you so far from home and to this...” Stephen waved a hand to indicate the Downs. “Rather misbegotten place?”
“The Spae-woman...” Grim began before seeing the question on Nick's face. “Ah... I believe you would call her a wise-woman?” When Nick nodded, Grim continued, “She read the omens and portents at Finn's Initiation into adulthood and declared his fate lay in these lands. So we came.” Grim turned to Finn. “Fetch the stew, boy.” While Finn was handing out bowls brimming with mutton stew to his father, Nick and Stephen before taking his own, Grim continued, “And what brings you to this cursed place?”
“We're looking for a tower built over two hundred years ago by a fellow scholar, Robert the Red.” Nick began to tell their tale to the trolls.
“I've seen ruins up here, they could be your tower,” Finn commented as he licked his bowl clean.
“Could you tell us where it is?” Nick asked earnestly.
Finn shook his head. “That's Gorre's territory, he'd hunt you down and scoff you up before you got inside the tower.” He paused before adding, “Or wait outside for you if you did reach the tower first.”
Nick gave a disappointed sigh. “Is there no way to reach it?”
Finn shrugged and looked at the other troll. “Father?”
Grim looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “We can make a deal.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “What sort of deal?”
“Simple enough,” Grim informed him. “Gorre will not attack if you are with other trolls, if I and my son accompany you...”
Nick grinned. “That would be excellent.”
“What would you want in return?” Stephen asked, noticing Nick deflate at his words.
“Nothing terrible,” Grim informed them with a smile which showed all of his sharp teeth and fangs. “I wish to return home but Finn is fated to remain here, at least for now. If you could take him with you and teach him about the world of men, until he finds what he is fated to do, we will take you to this tower.”
Stephen nodded. “He'd be safer with us than on his own.” When Finn bristled, Stephen added, “No offence, Finn, but people will see a troll and scream, if not attack you, if you're on your own.”
Grim nodded. “And with men by your side, people will be curious and listen first.”
Finn nodded, somewhat mollified by the explanation. “How those farmers reacted before we came up here.”
“So, do we have a deal?” Grim asked.
“Yes.” Nick nodded.
“Especially if Finn can tell us more about trolls and the lands you came from,” Stephen added.
“Good,” Grim smiled as he replied. “Rest, we'll start out at first light.”
***
Stephen found he slept surprisingly well considering where and in whose company he was in. They paused for a quick breakfast of rewarmed mutton stew before heading out onto the Downs. Finn led the way, with Stephen and Nick in the middle and Grim guarding the rear. They could hear roars in the distance but Stephen only spotted Gorre once, when the troll glared at them from beneath beetle-brows but didn't move to attack them. He could sense the troll was following them and knew that without the protection of Finn and his father, they would never have managed to reach the tower before he caught and ate them.
Finn paused and glanced back when Gorre gave a warning howl. “I've seen strange lights here at night, flickering and glowing as if they were candles in the breeze but no one was here.”
“We'll be careful,” Stephen promised him. “We have no wish to wake whatever Robert might have called here.”
“Good,” the elder troll muttered. “Go on, I'll keep an eye on Gorre.” He nodded towards what Stephen suddenly realised was the ruined tower. “I'm too big to fit in there.”
***
Stephen carefully checked each step before he put his full weight down, cautious of falling into whatever basement or dungeon Robert had built. They slowly explored the remains of the tower and found a crumbling staircase leading upwards.
Finn carefully poked at a stair with an unsheathed claw. “I'll check this floor and see if there is anything you might be interested in.”
Stephen didn't blame him as he edged up the stairs, testing each tread, he rather doubted the stairs would take the weight of the troll and he wasn't sure it would bear his or Nick's weight either.
Finally he reached the top of the stairs and entered a room full of scrolls and books. Most of them disintegrated when touched but a few fragments and the better preserved items were carefully packed away.
Nick continued to poke around what he declared must have been Robert's library when he spotted an item half hidden beneath a book he'd picked up. “What do you think of this?”
Stephen peered at it and frowned. “No idea, it's badly corroded but looks man-made... well, made by something.” He shrugged. “It isn't what we're looking for.”
Nick nodded before carefully turning pages over in the book he'd found. “Good Gods.”
“Nick?”
“This is Robert's personal journal.” Nick frowned as he continued reading. “Something about portals opening and...” A loud howl shattered the air. “Right, we need to take this and that,” Nick picked the object up and stuffed it into a bag.
“What's wrong?”
Nick shook his head. “I need to read this book carefully and it mentions that object.”
Stephen sighed before nodding, knowing he wouldn't be able to dissuade Nick and hoping they weren't meddling in things best left alone. “So... time to go home?”
“Nothing here,” Finn told them as they returned to the ground floor, before he eyed their full bags and asked, “Did you get what you came for?”
“Aye,” Nick agreed. “Ready to see the world of men?”
“Aye,” Finn replied as he followed them out into the sunlight to join Grim, all four shivering in a sudden gust of wind and an eerie howl from Gorre.
***
Stephen watched Finn hug his father goodbye before he picked up his own belongings and several of the bags Nick had collected from the tower. The journey back to Remmnan was easier and faster with a troll to lend his strength and height to aid their descent.
He was slightly wary of their reception upon entering Remmnan, but was pleasantly surprised when the villagers only gathered to watch them stroll into the village towards 'The Raven's Roost'. Samuel took one look at Finn and began to ask him questions and when the troll only chuckled before answering them, Stephen felt the universal sigh of relief from the gathered crowd. They spent the night in the inn, telling the tale of their adventures on the Downs and Finn passed on a few tips to avoid Gorre if they had to travel the Downs.
The trip back to Wearcester was likewise easier than Stephen would have expected, but most people seemed more curious about Finn than frightened by him. Stephen put that down to his and Nick's presence, that and the fact Finn decided to play the role of a dumb but friendly fellow. Indeed, the only time they had a problem was at the very gates of Wearcester, where the city guardsmen seemed undecided about admitting Finn, even after Nick declared he'd take responsibility for the troll. They were finally allowed through the gate when a new guardsman arrived, an eyebrow quirked as he took in their group, before he had a quiet word with his fellows. Stephen could feel the Valesman's curious gaze on him as they strolled up the street.
***
The two men and one troll spent the evening in a quiet meal and discussion of what to do first in the morning. Nick wanted to introduce Finn to the Dean while Stephen suggested showing him around the local area first. A loud and insistent knock at their door had them exchanging glances before Nick rose to answer it.
He came back into the room, the look on his face starting Stephen to his feet. “Nick?”
“We've been summoned to see James Lester, the Earl of Wearcester. The Black Wolf himself.”
“Who?” Finn asked as he licked his bowl clean.
“The ruler of the city and the surrounding lands,” Stephen told him.
“Ah,” Finn nodded. “So someone I should meet?”
“Not if you can avoid it,” Nick groused.
***
Stephen glanced around the room they were left in, noticing the numerous books and making a mental note to keep an eye on Nick.
“Gentlemen.” The voice almost had Stephen jumping and did have Nick starting, although Finn didn't seem surprised by the appearance of the impeccably dressed man sitting behind a desk. “I understand you've had a successful trip.”
Nick's eyes narrowed. “How...” He trailed off as a door opened and a beautiful woman glided in to hand the Earl a document before she turned, nodded and smiled in recognition at Nick, and left. “She... that woman. She's the one who dropped the scroll.” He turned towards the Earl. “You set it up.”
James quirked an eyebrow and didn't bother to deny it. “I gave you something you wanted, the fact I might have gained something from it, well...” He leaned forward. “Of course, that depends on what you did find.” He steepled his fingers. “I want a copy of all your notes.”
“Copies?” Stephen queried.
“I'm not going to stop your research.” James quirked an elegant eyebrow. “In fact... work for me and I'll see that your research is well funded.” His gaze rested on Finn for a moment before he added, “And your new friend might find life easier in the city if he is under the protection of the Black Wolf himself...”
Nick glared at James before sighing, “Fine, but Finn makes his own decisions.”
Finn looked between his friends and the Earl, his tail twitching nervously. “I would need to know what the Black Wolf would want of me first.”
James smiled and it reminded Stephen of the smile Grim had given. “Excellent. I believe we have many things to discuss, young Master Finn.” He glanced at a clock on his desk, “But not now. Do see Jenny on your way out and she'll arrange a time.” He picked up a document from his desk, “Welcome to the city of Wearcester, Finn. Gentlemen.”
Stephen recognised a dismissal when he heard one and grabbed Nick's arm before he could begin to argue with the most powerful man in the city. They would stop to see this Jenny and then return to their quarters to discuss the matter, but Stephen knew few people dared to say no to the Black Wolf.