Augts 6: Diary of a Big Time Cowherd
My new sword was longer than my legs. I had to wear it over my shoulder, the long slender blade safely in its sheathe, the strap often getting caught in my chest. I probably looked ridiculous, shortstack pontiff peasant dragging the blade around as I searched Dyrebank for mercenary work. The guards offered me ‘jobs’, but clearly the wrong kind, and the noticeboard was no help because I couldn’t read.
Fortunately, half of the Traders were fierce gossips and eager to help me find a job. The other half were fierce gossips and eager to get rid of the scary dragon lady, so they helped too. Elma nattered on about a maid job at the local lords manor, Todd suggested signing up to try and join the guards, and the Chief floated the idea of helping repair the fallen bridge once they contracted a mason. It was Knelvin who actually found me a mark.
The gnome stomped into the tavern we’d gathered at, towing a teenage boy behind her. He was a weird one, skin a dusky brown with a wide nose, big ears, and a gangly six foot frame that looked like he would double in muscle in a couple of years.
“Ahoy, Vivi- this is Lucas, he’s looking for help, and you’d like it, I reckon.” Knelvin tugged his sleeve, ushering him closer.
Lucas did not manage any eye contact with me, but he did bow- though that might have been to get a closer look. “Uh, pleasure ma’am. You’re the sellsword lady?”
“Or sellspell, I know some Art.” I tried, and pouted at his confused gaze, “I know some magic, so don’t underestimate me, kid. What do you want?”
“Ah, a night guard. I think. My father is away, and something has attacked our farm. Someone to help protect the cattle and scare off the… the thing, until he gets home. A couple of weeks.”
Playing bodyguard? I huffed, glancing at Knelvin. No wonder she’d pulled this guy to me, the job sounded like it was mainly sitting around, as safe a mercenary contract as she could find.
“What’s the pay like?”
“Uh… not sure.” Lucas blushed, “My mom handles the coin. I was here selling off milk, but I don’t have… uh, Mother would decide your contract.”
I set my hands on my hips, crossed one leg, “Any guesses?”
“Ten or twenty. Silver? And bed and board. We’ve got room.”
“Lucas can take you up to his farm to discuss things!” Knelvin added cheerfully, slapping him on the back. Barely. “Sounds grand, right?”
It was hard to say no to that dazzling little smile. And the promise a home cooked meal.
—--------------------------------
The Durwell Ranch was built at the edges of a forest, tall pine trees rising off towards the heavy horizon. One the wood had likely covered this land, but now it was cleared pastures with winding mossy walls, herds of long haired cattle, and a gathering of drum shaped cottages. Some were small as igloos, like kilns for keeping individuals small, but the largest was big as a barn, large enough I could probably fit inside it- unless they paid me very generously.
Lucas took his ox and cart off to stable, and then showed me to his home, and to meet his mother.
Lutetia Durwell was not human. She was roughly the right size, tall for a woman and sturdily built, with an impressive chest that matched my own. But under the mane of red dreadlocks, her dark skin was fuzzy with velvety fur, her ears long and drooping, her nails dark and arms hairy. The horns curling from her head and small hairy tail whipping behind her skirt only added to the bovine look.
“You brought one of the beaver nuns here?!” Her melodic voice snapped, foot stomping, “Fool, boy, what are you thinki-”
“I’m not a pontiff.” I interrupted, “Nothing to do with them.”
The farmwife bared blunt teeth, ears twitching, “Your skin says otherwise, girly.”
“I didn’t choose them. They tricked me and bound me. Because of my… Art, of magic.” I frowned, “Don’t you need a guard? I can be pretty strong.”
“A guard, yes. A bound puppet? No.”
“Mother, she is mighty. Her company told stories of her carrying their horses across a raging river.” Lucas added nervously.
“And their wagons too. The bridge across the Englemire was down, I had to bring us across.” I bragged, puffing out my chest.
Lutetia clicked her tongue against her teeth thoughtfully, “We need aid until my husband returns from his journey. Two weeks, we’ll pay you a silver a day, and you get a meal each day.”
My heart rumbled in my chest. “That’s a decent basis- but how about one payment at the end, rather than daily? Oh- and what if I kill your monster?”
“If you kill it? The full pay, and twenty silver more. I do not wish to lose a single cow more to this horror.”
“That’s a fair deal. Do you know what it is? Where it came from- the forest?”
“Surely, yes.” Lutetia pursed her lips, “It strikes by night. Thrice we have founded one of the herd dragged out into the fields, butchered and gnawed upon. Flesh strewn, but the bones, the bones are what it hungers for.”
A seasoned mercenary could perhaps identify the horror from such a strange clue. An experienced hunter might search for tracks and hound it to its den. As for me, I was quite proud that I remembered to undress and pull on a large blanket before accepting the contract, to Lutetia’s confusion.
My power only took the promise of fourteen silver into account, so in moments I was a fourteen foot stunner looming over their fields. Mainly human, my tail kicked up dirt behind me, my branching horns stood tall on my head, and the stink of cows, manure and worse filled my nostrils. Gah, I’d gotten dragon smell power?
Lutetia warmed up to me as soon as I grew. Maybe it was the curves, maybe it was the horns, maybe it was watching me debate if my estoc could work as a dagger, but she offered me extra blankets and some stew immediately. She was a little more crestfallen to learn I wan’t a Nymph, but delighted to explain what a Nymph was.
“Our mother Chimera opposes the tyranny of the Pontifex.” She said, showing me about the fields, “She gifts us with grafts, the path to bring in other nature and be part of it ourselves. I’m only an apprentice, I’ve come to embody my herds, my cows, and they’ve shaped me in turn- but our elders? They wear forests and flames, truth and shadow. The greatest Nymphs graft not their flesh, but their very spirit.”
“Is that why Lucas is a bit… big? You were like this when he was born? Or is he copying you?” I wondered.
Lutetia laughed and elbowed my shin, my leg bigger than her whole body, “Big, says the she-giant? Yes, you are half right- my nature rubbed off on him in womb and in milk, he is a good sturdy lad! But he should not follow my grafts. These flocks are mine, it is crude to pull on what another Nymph has claimed.”
I decided I liked the Nymphs more than the pontiffs. My angle of view down at Lutetia might have contributed to matters, but she gave me a chance, a bed and a meal. My role was mainly on nights, so the next day I trekked back to Dyrebank with Lucas to sell off their milk, subtly terrify and advertise to the locals, and bid farewell to the Chiefs Traders. Two weeks was too long for them to stay put in one place, and so I shook some hands, traded some barb, and snuggled with Knelvin for an hour before dusk.
Staying up overnight wasn’t hard. I had two weeks to enjoy being so big I could step over cows, and all I needed to do was stay alert. I would trek around the fields every couple of hours, sharp nose at the ready for danger, and often stop to watch the strange stars and eddies of the night sky. Once the lights of the farmers and their workers went out, and all seemed asleep, I trained as best I could. A few sit ups, a few attempted push ups, a playful round of fencing moves with my little estoc. I was strong enough to demolish a tree, but losing a little tubbiness couldn’t hurt.
Once the sun rose, the cock crowed and the workers took the fields out, I got the chance to eat a hefty breakfast and doze for the day. Maybe there was something of a monitor lizard in me, but basking was awfully pleasant, and with my abundant cushioning it wasn’t hard to nap the day away. Waking me up was a little more treacherous, but Lucas and the other young men all seemed quite happy to try poking me with a long enough stick until I roused. I kept the longest and sturdiest of their sticks- a fallen tree, really- as a walking stick, and gave over the snapped remains of the rest as firewood.
The routine wasn’t bad. Even when Lutetia quietly asked me to not sound like an earthquake at night, and even with my coin dwindling feeding myself, it was wonderful to just exist on a big scale. The cows were surprisingly friendly to me- especially once they realized I could pet two of them at once, they were like dull dogs with fluffy fur. Even the scent was something I could get used to.
It was on the fifth night that I smelled something else. Blood and grit. Void? What did that smell like, and how did I know it? I rose, tall and full under the moonlight, blade in one hand and staff in the other, and took off walking. I couldn't see well, but I could smell it- closer, over that field? It was moving? But not towards the cows.
The smell… dimmed. My feet clipped a low wall as I walked, felt the pasture of grass on the other side, and… shit? No. Dirt. Dislodged soil? Why hadn’t I gotten night vision?! I poked blindly with my large stick, feeling a break in the earth, a dip. A hole? Something had dug here?
A low growl escaped me as I stood, tail flicking, head turning to try and catch the scent. It was close- but I needed to guard the cows. And I needed to see. Lucas had left some tinder and torches beside where I slept, by the barn, if I could get some light I could make sense of this.
Turning, I strode back across the uneven night terrain. Halfway, my foot found a hole. And pain.
I screamed as I tripped and fell, the stench flaring and something sharp ripping at my ankle. Falling hurt. It rattled my bones and probably left a crater in the dirt as I twisted and kicked.
“NGWEEEH!” Something spurted blood and sharpness spiked my sole. “GIVE… BONES…. BIG…. STRONG, HEALTHY, BONNESSS!”
The voice caught me off guard. It was rasping, animalistic and crude, but it was speech. And it was the monster.
Adrenaline and power surged through my veins. The bounty lingered, and the promise of that coin sent my figure arching as I grew. My sword slipped from my grasp as talons lengthened from my fingers, my clothing ripped and golden markings became visible as my eyes shifted to dark eldritch orbs. In moments I was almost as tall as I’d been crossing the river, double that I had fallen as, able to see through the gloom.
My opponent looked half like a gorilla, half like a mole. It was large as a cart, craggy fur thick with dirt and crime, with a large triangular snout full of twisted teeth. Five zigzagging limbs with long claws, like a digging machine writ in flesh, twisted and dripped with my blood.
“BIGGEERRR?! STRONGER BOONES- NO- NO.” It didn’t seem to have eyes, but a star shaped nose with small tendrils pulsed and sniffed as I kicked again. The blow almost crushed its chin, and I felt talons of my toes draw hot blood. My other leg and tail circled around, grabbing the monster before it could delve back underground. Claws swiped at me, skittering off my scales but opening slashes on my bare calves.
Fury and fear bubbled in my chest. I pulled myself close, face twisted with disguised, and punched it once, twice, with arms that could toppled buildings. It shrieked and writhed, and I grabbed it, breasts brushing against the filthy fur, and squeezed with all my might.
Things broke under its hide. Organs popped and bones snapped. The sounds, violence and movement ceased. But the smell didn’t fade. I spat on my enemy and pulled myself upright, hissing at a dozen cuts and scratches, bruises that would reveal themselves soon. I needed to wash. The ruckus would wake up the whole farm, and they’d be out soon to find a naked sellsword twice that height I had been this evening.
Somehow any concerns about my first kill were lost amidst thoughts of medicine, clothes, food and bathing.
