FROM CHAPTER ONE: THE GHOST OF THE SWILL

My head swam in a daze and I lurked in the darkness.  I knew not where I was going. I could only tell that the rats would be here soon to eat the dead and that the jackals would not be too much later in coming. I loped on all fours, my great axe strapped to my back, and my helmet barely held in place. I wandered aimlessly on higher ground than I had seen going into the battle. The landscape confused and bewildered me, not like the wealthier regions where I had fought before.  In any direction lay fabled lands that men spoke of in dread. I was new here, but that was my way. I disliked familiarity and dwelled not too long with the same comrades. Sometimes I found myself fighting against those I had known before. Such was life, and around me were those familiar sights-- apes lying amid broken weapons, battered armor, and gore.

I had not returned to the city with the last column of warriors. I had never intended to. Something drew me on. Now, with my ears ringing and my hide seeping blood from a dozen wounds, I loped onward, in a broken land, only faintly lit up by the fires that still burned on the battlefield. I cleared the last of the bodies just as the jackals came in and a wind blew cold. It cleared my head a little and I had begun to think I had better decide on some place to go. Before I had made up my mind I came upon a group of warriors gathered around a fire. The chiefs of each group spoke with a. cloaked figure. A smaller, smarter ape, who I knew as Urloof, hailed me with great cheer.

“Rungrin!” he called, “Here is Rungrin! Look at him torn and weary! Yet I doubt anyone here could best him, even now!”

“What is this, Urloof?” I asked him.

In the murky glow of the battlefield fires, I could see a dozen of each group here. Those mounted and armored apes who battled with spears and lances nodded solemnly as hushed words fell in sullen whispers. The poorly armed footmen like myself, all apes of great strength and girth, but none to match my own sturdy hew, voiced their muttered concerns. The humans came to the table too, only half a dozen archers. Only humans can master the bow, and these were the green skinned men of the forest, who were said to be among the best. Their bows were the longest I had seen and were built of a magnificent, white wood. Even the best archers from other lands could not properly wield such powerful bows.

The other group of humans stood apart, and besides archers these were the only humans that I have ever known to be warriors. They were the Yights, who rode the flesh eating horses. There were more than a dozen of them, and more than a dozen is more than I can count, but they seemed not much more. They wore animal skins and wielded spears and axes tipped with stone. They huddled together snarling and coughing. Some of them sneezed and wiped their hands through their hair. Their teeth were filed to sharp points, and everyone knew that they ate other humans as well as apes, and frowned on all other food.

I had fought with Yights many times and stood on both sides of the battlefield with those devils. They might have held their own against any ape, but they spent too much time between bouts glutting themselves on their fallen foes. Many times I have felled a Yight because his hands were slippery with blood and he lost his weapon.

When I finished my quick survey of the group Urloof answered my question.

“Yonder is a prince who would hire a small army. He will pay in gold.”

I looked at this prince again, a figure dressed like a riddle. Keepers wore cloaks like his, but he was no Keeper. Keepers carried the lash of cruelty and the jewel of glory. From Keepers apes learned to be the servants of humans. They lit up our commons with the light of their jewels and made us swoon with their beautiful rhymes. Without Keepers, humans would have to fight their own battles. But this was no Keeper.

The fringe of his garment, made out of rats, glimmered in the darkness-- here and there I could see the tiny tails and feet. The hood did not sink and droop, but stood high and pointed. This prince wore leggings of thatch and crude leather gauntlets. His face was not only obscured by the hood, but covered in a mask made of polished copper.  The mask jutted out from his cloak in a sharp point. He carried only a staff made of some gray, knotted wood.

Not only did a chief from each group of warriors surround and counsel him, but there stood some warriors who were neither ape nor human. Though each of them stank of thick, matted fur, their fire-blackened heads were hairless, and even the skin had been burned off on top, replaced by charred bone. They were Grogens. I’d seen some before once.

Too stupid to brew strong drink or find maddening herbs, they baked their skulls for pleasure, sticking their heads into their campfires until they became addled. There were less than a dozen of these, dressed in leather armor and armed with great, two handed cleavers. Although they were even dumber than apes, they all wore the badges of an elite force, and they stood in charge of our stores.

“What is the mission?” I asked Urloof.

“We go to a distant fortress, we storm the fortress, he recovers some great treasure, and pays everyone who lives.”

“And our chief?”

“Mixwulk the Glutton commands we footmen.”

I stared again at the prince. Mixwulk the Glutton seemed afraid of him.

I imagined myself in the great ape’s place, but could not  understand the fear of this odd character.  I asked, “What does he call himself?”

“He calls himself the Relic,” Answered Urloof.

I watched the group of chiefs. All of them seemed intent on agreeing with the Relic and hearing his plans, except for the Chief of the Forest men. He leaned on his bow and looked out into the distance. When he saw me, he broke off from the group and came to Urloof.

“Ho, Urloof! Who is this giant you bring our band?”

“Rungrin is his name, Beerwin.”

The chief of the forest men looked me up and down and said, “Rungrin, you are the sort of ape that is always followed into battle by others. Will you join the parley and discuss our venture?”

“I am no chief, forest man. Most talk passes me by. I live for action, with few ideas and fewer cares.”

Beerwin nodded and stroked his beard saying, “Well we must make you the chief’s lieutenant, then.” So saying, Beerwin clamped an insignia on my belt and led me to a second group of warriors who played with dice and swilled warm ale.

Only two among them wore the insignia I had been given.  One was an armored ape who towered when he stood on two feet, and whose mane shone silver from beneath his helmet. This was the respected, but mute and slow witted Enzorpo. The other was a filth caked Yight of immense build, born with but a single eye.  His name, I learned, was Vand and he understood less speech than me. I had been placed among the more visible and loud apes. The three who wore my badge were obviously the largest of our groups.  I heard my name whispered by many as I walked among these bloodthirsty warriors. Among them I had no misgivings.  At last I relaxed and called for ale, pulling a purse full of nickels from my belt and joining the game. At ease with the situation, I slept among them.  The next day we marched long as one.