The Howls of the Netterback

Lord Balister bounded up the spiral stairs, leaving his guards in the dust. His eyes danced in the torchlight, and he could not suppress a childish smile that stretched from ear to ear. The sun said hello and blinded him for a moment as he exited out onto the battlements. A small army of men, women, and stumpers stood on the ground below. He composed himself before greeting them, his excitement barely contained.

"Lady Nimmo! It's been too long!" Lord Balister shouted.

"You know why we're here!"

He exaggerated, scratching his head. "I'm sure I don't! Please, I pray, tell me why!"

"Always playing games! You know we've come for Flimlet! We're here to pay off the debt he owes! Now, enough of your games; bring us our dwarf!"

"Flimlet? Flimlet? You say he's a dwarf?"

"An examiner from King Moreland is on his way as we speak!" Lady Nimmo secretly wished Flimlet was not listed, which would prove he was kidnapped.

For years, King Moreland of Selwyn has been investigating Lord Balister. Lord Balister's castle had more indentured servants than anywhere else.

Lord Balister's excitement waned a bit by this unwanted news. However, he recovered. The fine line between being an alleged criminal and a convicted criminal is keeping honest books. "As the King wishes! But before the examiner arrives, I remember this dwarf you asked about! I'm afraid you're not going to like it! You see, I sent him to my gold mine last week!"

"You what!" Lady Nimmo shouted.

"Yes, last week! I mean, you can hardly blame me. He is a dwarf!"

The examiner found Flimlet's debt, along with everyone else's, to be correct and in order. Lady Nimmo paid Lord Balister, who, in turn, explained how to reach his mine in the far north of the Netterback, on the edge of the Gallanddor mountains. He graciously offered a map to aid them on their journey and papers proving Flimlet's debt was paid. They wasted no time and departed immediately.

The Netterback is a vast, flat land of wild grasses and few trees. One can see for miles in any direction, giving it an appearance of endlessness. Many found it disconcerting. A few found it maddening, primarily because the wind howled through the grass and trees, sounding like ghosts haunting a graveyard.

Oakaford walked beside Lady Nimmo while she rode, "I'll never get used to these noises. It chills me." He warily looked to the right and left. "I keep expecting to see a ghost."

"I know. I feel it, too."

The howls of the Netterback weighed down the small army like dew on a blanket, and the seemingly endless distance sapped everyone's energy. No matter how much they marched, it never appeared they made any progress. The landscape stayed the same. It was like a gigantic treadmill of grass and trees.

The troops' heavy hearts lifted somewhat when they spotted the rooftops of the Gallanddor mountains. Finally, they had a landmark to judge distance. As they neared the mountains, they noticed an odd clump of trees before them. The trees had no tops, only trunks with a couple of limbs. There were no leaves. There were no branches. It looked like a tornado had plowed through, stealing everything but the trunks.

Lady Nimmo kept staring at the barren woods. She couldn't articulate why, but she felt leary of it. Something wasn't right. Her parents, Jor and Gladise, rode alongside her.

"Lord Balister's map marks the mine there," Lady Nimmo pointed, "Taking us right through those trees."

"May I take a look?" Jor asked. She handed him the map. "I guess we are assuming we can trust this map?"

Gladise was as anxious as Lady Nimmo. "I sense malice. We dare not enter their domain."

"What are you saying?" Lady Nimmo asked.

"I'm saying, stay away. Let's go around."

"I'd do as your mother says, Nimmo. You're not the only one with magic in this family."

She ordered the army to circle around the trunk clump. Everyone collectively sighed in relief. No one wanted to enter that mess.

Just before the army completely circled the foul woods, a rock as big as a dwarf's head landed close to Lady Nimmo, exploding dirt in every direction, pelting several in the lead. Before anyone could react, another rock landed under Jor's horse. The horse panicked and bolted, with Jor hanging on for dear life. He wrestled with his reigns to regain control of the frightened beast. When he finally did, he turned back towards the troops, and his blood turned cold. The haunting wood was alive. The trunks were grabbing stones with their limbs and hurling them. He raced back.

Thud! Crash! Screams! Chaos surrounded Lady Nimmo. Stumpers ran in every direction and a few into each other. The archers fired at the attacking trunks, but the arrows only stuck without causing harm. The old guard charged and hacked with their swords at the front line. The trunks stopped throwing and attempted to pound them into the ground.

Lady Nimmo shouted to Oakaford, "We must get closer! We don't stand a chance out here!"

Oakaford, seeing his stumper troops scattering in terror, grabbed two of them. He picked them off their roots and shook them. "Get a hold of yourselves!" After a few more shakings, most of the stumpers fell in line. Oakaford led the largest stumper charge in Wanowyn's history. Well, it's also the only stumper charge in Wanowyn's history.

The clash of trunks and stumpers filled the air. The stumpers carried swords, but the trunk's limbs were so much longer and stronger than the stumper's that they could not get close enough to do any damage. One poor stumper tried to cut off the limb of his attacker but lost his arm in the attempt. The trunk then knocked off the other arm.

Cord, the best sword handler among the stumpers, hacked and spun and hacked again, cutting a limb off his enemy. He speedily did the same to the other limb. He pushed the armless trunk to the ground and attacked two more trunks similarly. He shouted to Oakaford and Lady Nimmo to aim for the limbs. Then he returned to battle. He looked up and saw a trunk crack a stumper's head. He ran to save him, but a rock, thrown at a considerable speed, hit him in his chest and split him in two.

With two swift swings of her sword, Lady Nimmo removed both limbs of one trunk. Jor and the old guard dispatched the limbs of dozens.

The tide of battle began to turn towards the good guys once they discovered the trunk's weakness. Without their limbs, they posed little threat. The trunks started to retreat in mass. However, at Lady Nimmo's command, the stumpers captured one.

A ten-foot trunk with no limbs stood bound by ropes held by a half dozen stumpers. Lady Nimmo trotted on her horse, putting her face to face with the giant log. She could see the work of a carver in this monstrous trunk. She had believed she was the only one who could carve life into trunks.

"Who carved you? Who brought you to life?" Lady Nimmo asked.

"I answer not," the bound trunk answered.

"Why did you attack us?"

"I change not answer."

"Since you have nothing to say, you'll be our campfire tonight."

The trunk's eyes widened, "I maybe now talk."

"Then talk."

"Creator tells throw rocks."

"Who is your creator?"

"I know not name. He wears black. No face I see."

Lady Nimmo attempted to pry more info from the unarmed trunk, but got nowhere. A small detachment, led by Jor, went to the mine to free Flimlet. While gone, Lady Nimmo carved away battle scars from the stumpers, and Gladise patched up wounds.

Oakaford, along with several stumpers, carried the two halves of Cord. A sound emanated from them like wind rustling through dried leaves. Ultimate suffering was on their faces. Cord made no sound, nor did he move. Everyone gathered around with mournful hearts.

Lady Nimmo walked to the slain stump with tears in her eyes. She bent on one knee and raised her sword. The old guard and stumpers joined with their swords and the archers with their bows. The rustling grew louder. Gladise openly cried. Nimmo attempted to comfort her but could hardly keep back her tears. The heavy weight of grief overshadowed them all.

Their march back home was uneventful. Cord was carried with honors the entire trip. Even at night, stumpers took hourly shifts to hold him high. He would not be allowed to touch the ground until he arrived at his final resting place in Jorton.

When they arrived home, Lady Nimmo quietly and inside with closed doors attempted to carve life into Cord. However, nothing happened. The day before the funeral, she carved into the coffin a scene of Cord standing upright, holding a sword pointing towards the heavens and a fallen trunk at his feet. She embellished the scene with leaves, flowers, and trees.

The entire town was in attendance at Cord's memorial service. It was the first in Jorton, and his grave was the first in Jorton's cemetery.