Demon of the Black Gate

Cerra wrapped the shawl a little tighter about her as she rode, the sun well beyond the horizon. The trail had taken its long descent from the teetering ridge, across rocky screes and into the heights. They were sparely treed, the scent of pine all she could discern. At least she didn’t feel as though she might topple from the trail at any moment.

She twice detected the smut of a mountain cat, and goats could often be heard by their clicking hoofs on the hard rock faces. The goats would circle her with a wary clatter, returning to their tuft of grass or station after she had passed. The trail went for long level stretches as it followed a ridge, then descended in tight turns. As she descended, the land started closing in. The air that wafted from below her was shot with leafy and earthen scents. There were many trees. She could hear the song created by the breezes ruffling their upper branches. It smelled more like her home, except more intense. She could tell that the forest would be dense. The firs and brush that surrounded her now as the slopes approached the canopy of trees were becoming thicker and she knew they had descended well down the mountain.

Kamir had long ago retreated to the saddle and was asleep as near as Cerra could tell. The trail leveled considerably. She heard the gurgling of a creek and as the horse ventured across she felt Sugar’s hoof hit both sand and pebbled stone. It was an easy crossing and the air felt open. The creek must cut a wide swath when running full.

She was aware that she was very tired It had been a long time since she had slept, and the tension of the high ridge had sapped her. The sun was well set behind the mountains. She had felt the shade hours ago, and she thought that if it wasn’t dark out already it would be soon. She heard the splash of a small cascade below her and the gentle murmuring of the stream passing among the rocks that littered its path. Sugar treaded carefully across the creek and she halted the horse at the far side of the creek, standing in a sandy patch.

‘Sand. That’s a good start’ Cerra said to her herself.

“Come on, sleepyhead, we’re at our home for the night.” she cooed to Kamir, who stretched the best he could before taking the leap to the ground.

Cerra slid from the saddle right behind him and grabbed her stick. She tapped through the sandy patch and felt her way back over to the creek. Close to the edge of the slow cascade, rocks were large but had set well in their high water tumblings. She felt for one rock after the next, taking a light step to each. It was like a poise exercise that Jessann had taught her. When she felt the stick hit water. She knelt on the rock she was on and took a drink. She smiled to herself. Sugar had found a convenient walkway nearby and she’d not find it until she explored more. It would be close.

She smelled cedar nearby and some spruce. There was often deadwood and fallen branches at their bases. She didn’t have the energy to cook but she wanted some tea at least. She did a careful about face on the rock she balanced on and took her tentative steps back to the sandy spot where she had started. There were plenty of small boulders strewn at the edges of the dried sands and she found one to her liking as a backrest. She considered her stores: she still had some of her preserved rations in her bag, enough at least for one more meal.

It was easy to find the smaller rocks she needed for her little fire pit, and had a satisfying game of ‘toss the rock’. It helped keep her mind from her solitary camp. Branch and deadwood were just beyond the sand; the cedar was easy to find with its aromatic scent. Rougher needles and bark marked the spruce and playing a round of ‘toss the stick’ gave her a score of twelve hits for her fifteen tries. She could do better in the morning. She knocked a spark from her flint into some of the cedar shavings. A crackle and wisp of smoke was enough to tell her one had taken. She quickly had a little fire going. She took another teetering trip across the rocks to the creek and dipped her pot of water. It would be a-boil soon.

Cerra sat back against her rock. She heard Sugar munching contentedly at what forage she had found. Kamir was not around, but he would be back soon. Pulling her pipe, she stuffed a piece of seven leaf into the bowl, and leaned forward to carefully extract a small burning twig she had set aside as a brand.

She puffed the heady mixture for a few moments, then sat back as she waited for the tea water to boil. She let her mind wander to the past day, running the route of the trail through her mind and the bits of information that had been offered to her as she rode.

Upon leaving the cavern entrance, the way had gone nearly North, judging by the angle of the sun, along the highest ridge and the one following, before descending in a measured switchback that had carried her much of the way down the hill. She thought the switchbacks might be between two difficult ridges to be so evenly paced in their turns. She accounted for the long southern stretch that brought her to the creek she was now at and judged she was very close to the mouth of the cave entrance, maybe a bit north, though very far below it.

“I almost got here far quicker.” she mused aloud. “The long way was better.”

The water was boiling, and Cerra steeped her tea. Her rations sat in her bag. She didn’t want to eat any of it until she knew Kamir was back and successful in his hunt. He would drop something at her feet by way of notice.

She let her mind piece together her little patch where she camped. She had tapped around the perimeter in her search for firewood, and attempted to take a different path back each time she returned to her sandy nest. Finding a comfortable spot nestled in the scattered boulders had been easy. The stones were round granites that had been smoothed by the ages of the cascade, which would run solidly over them in the spring. The creek had receded and the sand was dry and comfortable.

“You can pick them.” she thought to herself, satisfied with her site. She hobbled Sugar and sighed with some relief. Her moments of panic in the grotto had seemed a bit overwrought in hindsight. She added a grateful nod to her two companions. The tea ready, she sat back and shut her eyes to the world, merging the peace of the tea with the murmur of the brook. Her mind drew a picture of the mountain they had just descended. The goats, the high aerie feel of the cliff that tightened her stomach so, even imagining the cats she had caught scent of. They were particular about marking their trees, and Cerra let herself imagine a magnificent spotted cat watching her pass from a handy snag of rock and branch.

The sound of Sugar’s nervous hoofs and a worried whinny brought Cerra alert. It was then she heard Kamir dart from the nearby trees, a low growl measured his bounds. He brushed against her thigh and stopped, standing alert and tense. The throaty mewl continued to hum through his body as Cerra gave him a light stroke.

“What?” she questioned, turning her ears alertly, favoring the direction Kamir was looking.

The horse was not far behind her where she had left it hobbled in a grassy patch next to the spruces. She sorted quickly through the flutter of the breeze and birds. She heard a light snap, hard to catch over the sussuration of the creek, then the sound of splashes, many soft footsteps making their way across the creek. Kamir froze, his low growl wary. It was there in a cast of breeze, the wet smell of dog. Wolves!

“Oh my!”, she thought, stifling a measure of panic. “Now what?!”

She drew her stick closer to her, though she knew she would not be able to defend herself very well with it. She caught the sound of other steps to her right. Some had crossed the stream above. Sugar shuffled nervously, snorting.

She reached in her bag, and calmed herself with a deep breath.

“Let’s pray they aren’t hungry.” she murmured in a low voice, hoping Kamir would understand. She steeled herself to a measure of calmness. The footsteps were closing. There would be one who would command the pack. There always was. She silently blessed the wisdom of Jessann yet again.

“Well, sir wolf.” she said as conversationally as she could muster. It came a lot easier than she expected. She had traveled with a demon after all. “Please say hello, and have some of my dinner.”

She kept sitting as she held out a large piece of the duck jerky. It was near the last that she had, and had hoped to boil it in the morning and sip the savory broth. She didn’t have to wait. She heard a few wary steps, and the approach of one of the animals. He was the king. No other would dare go before him.

She continued to hold out her hand, the proffered twist of dried meat held with as little finger as she could. The steps drew closer, the smell of fur preceded him. She heard a low growl, short, but not menacing. Kamir gave a low warning growl. The wolf was close enough that she sensed the turn of his head, intent on the cat at her thigh.

“He’s not worth your taste buds,” She lifted the jerky a bit. “This is much more to your liking.”

The wolf took the last step, and grabbed the dried meat from her hand. He backed up and she could hear him drop to his haunches and begin to gnar at the tough scrap. It didn’t take long for the wolf to chomp it away. She held her hands open.

“There is no more.” she said softly.

She also hoped the open hand would reflect a gesture of welcome. She could feel Kamir ease forward. “Careful, kitty” she offered in a quiet amendment. Kamir was friends with most of the dogs he encountered. She knew he would not run. She couldn’t tell if Kamir took any punchless bats at the wolfs muzzle, but it appeared the greeting went well, and she relaxed a little more. Kamir had reduced his alarm to a tentative ’Errrr”

She made a loud sniffing noise, an unmistakeable request for a better smell. ‘When with a wolf’ she thought.

Her hand was still extended, and she felt the cold nose of the wolf, first at her fingers, and then palm. She let her finger carefully trace around his ears as the beast leaned in closer. She could hear the soft pant and feel heat of its breath on her cheeks. His coat was thick and luxurious. She brought her other hand up to scratch behind his ear and she received a lick on the face. Both of her fingers worked the skull behind his ears and she impulsively pressed her forehead to his. Morehouse, her nearest neighbor, had a water dog named Anya with a habit of doing that when she visited.

The wolf let out a low, satisfied growl and Cerra did her best to do the same.

’When with a wolf … ’

“Thank you.” she said in a low voice. She felt a tremendous amount of gratitude and relief.

She pulled her brow away, keeping a hand scratching at the wolf’s ear. The beast licked her once more on her face, and on her wrist as he eased himself away. There was a short low bark and she sensed his head dip close to her feet. She felt a tense and curious Kamir there too.

“It seems you’ve said hello. Just don’t give him the paw.” she cautioned again, keeping her voice low and even.

If he did, it wasn’t evident for the wolf turned and circled her little fire. None of the other wolves had moved. She wasn’t sure at all of how many there were or where they were. She heard a few quick splashes nearby and some heavy scratching at the dirt before a ruffing howl came from the wolf, a long piercing cry. The others responded with a series of short barks and they all began moving, circling the camp. Each one barked or growled as they passed, she counted seven others, before bounding back across the creek.

Within moments no sound of them was heard. Kamir pushed heavily against her thigh and jumped into her lap. His paws went right to her chest and she knew he was looking her in the eye. She stroked his head. He began purring and rubbed his nose to hers. She gathered him to her bosom and laughed, a little bit of nervous relief came with it. For the second time in as many days she had brushed with certain death. And in the wake of each cold passing she had felt exhiliration at being alive. Her blood was racing both hot and content.

“That went well.” she comforted the cat as much as she calmed herself. “That went very well.”