The Valley Of The Dwarfs - 4. Chapter 4

With everyone out of camp on errands or busy doing the tasks necessary to keep the camp going, Albrecht was fairly certain he was not observed slipping between the pavilions and into the willows along the creek. He followed the flow down for nearly a half-league before looking for a place to cross. He’d brought his long dagger, anyway, the one that easily slipped in the back of a victim and severed major blood vessels. It took a bit more time than throttling or breaking a neck, but it was the up-close contact he sought. His left hand would be clamped over the victim’s mouth, while the right sliced into the back. If necessary, sometimes he’d go up under the tunic and slip the knife into the liver, other times he’d go between two ribs and slice through a lung, but his favorite was still into the back near the spine where the major trunk vessels hung.

After gaining the opposite shore, he quickly climbed up into the forest and began searching for a victim. He’d seen loggers go into this forest a few days earlier, but was uncertain exactly where they were working. His other option was to stay at the edge and hope to find a shepherd or farm boy out in a lea.

It was warmer than he expected, but the exhilaration of the possibility of a successful kill erased whatever discomfort his body felt. This was going to be so good for him. It had been nearly two months since they travelled through Avignon and he’d found a wench working the streets at night. She whimpered slightly when he came up behind her and grabbed her neck. Then vigorously struggled as he throttled her and just before her breath was completely stopped, he pulled out his dagger and slit her throat. It was a beautiful kill and he came copiously afterward.

Today, he wanted a boy. Not a little one because he wasn’t that kind of killer, but a young shepherd, maybe with a young wife and child. Unfortunately, the plague had done its job a little too well. There weren’t a lot of young men around at all. In fact, it, the plague, had struck the young more than any other group.

He walked up the slope along the edge of the forest parallel to a rough stone wall about waist high. Inside cows grazed on grass, but there wasn’t anyone watching them. Maybe they were trained to look out for themselves. The cows at home certainly weren’t trained, causing a farmer to either have a lot of children or hire a lot of men to tend to his cows. These here in the valley seemed oblivious to him.

At the top of the slope, he turned left and traversed the slope keeping the wall on his left. Rounding a small knoll, Albrecht saw his victim. From the distance, the young man appeared to be no older than twenty, probably a few years younger than that. There was, also, a large dog sitting beside the shepherd. He wondered if the dog might protect his master or if it would go off to protect the sheep. There was only one way to find out.

He kept traversing the slope until he was directly above the shepherd. The dog turned its head and stared at Albrecht for a moment before turning back to watch the sheep. So good, so far.

He quietly climbed over the wall and slowly walked down carefully watching his footfalls lest he hit a patch of gravel, a bog of sheep shit, or anything else that might distract him from his intended quarry. The dog turned, again, then, quite unexpectedly, got up and trotted down to the sheep. It was a sheep dog, not a man dog.

He was close now, only three paces separated them. Suddenly, the shepherd stood up and fumbled with his pants until a stream of piss arced out onto the turf.

Albrecht made his move. Three quick paces, his left shoulder knocking the shepherd to the turf, his right knee jamming into the boy’s testicles, and the left hand grabbing the neck forcing the face into the grass. His right hand brought up the dagger from his belt and quickly pushed it under the shepherd’s tunic where he felt the bare, warm skin against the back of his fingers.

The grass muffled the scream as the blade slipped through the tender skin and tore across muscle and tissue. The shepherd vigorously struggled under Albrecht, but the dagger found its familiar target.

As death crept over the boy, Albrecht rolled him over and smiled at the limp member hanging out of the pants, piss still dribbling out. He cut it off and stuffed it in the boy’s mouth. Then he sliced the two blood vessels in the neck and stood up.

He felt truly exhilarated and took out his engorged rod, gave it a few strokes with his blood soaked hand, and splattered come over the dead shepherd’s face.

* * * * * * *

Paolo and Carlo trudged up the grassy slope surveying their purchase. Both knew they’d better get back to Albrecht, but a little stroll shouldn’t delay them too long. Plus, Paolo was hoping they’d find a small grove, a shed, or just a tall clump of turf where they could get down and personal.

Carlo, though, wasn’t thinking about sex. Being from the Hinterland, albeit a less rural part than this idyllic valley, gave him somewhat of an understanding of beings other than human. The missing ass this morning was a perfect example of what they might have to fear, but it might be something else entirely. There was something about this valley that scared him and finding out that it belonged to dwarfs didn’t do anything to lessen that fear.

They reached the tree line and began traversing the slope before looking for a place to descend. Paolo continued to search for the perfect spot for a tryst. Carlo tried to ignore the tingling up his spine.

“You were awfully generous with Pierre,” Carlo said with a sigh. “We could’ve gotten him down to seven or eight.”

“Did you look at his children?” Paolo asked. “He’s going to need a lot of money for the kiddies and I would’ve given him his fourteen, but figured you’d balk at that.”

“You got that right,” Carlo said. “You’re just too soft hearted. You should’ve gone into the priesthood.”

“How could I? I failed Liturgy, Interpretation, and, more importantly, Deportment and Interpersonal Relations. Sure, I could’ve committed to a hermitage, but who wants to live in a cell all their life. But, look around us, isn’t the view terrific? Look down there at the village. That’s so quaint, so picturesque, so touristy. God, we’re going to make a ton of money out of this. People are going to flock to get a view like that.”

“There might be a problem with people flocking,” Carlo said, looking around as he felt as if they, he, was being watched.

“What do you mean?” Paolo asked. “This is absolutely bucolic. It’s pristine! We’re not going to have any problem getting rich people to come here and do all the schussing they want.”

“Dwarfs don’t like tourists,” Carlo said. He stopped and looked down at his feet. The ground was soggy here. Either there was a spring upslope or nymphs were playing games. “Plus, dwarfs don’t like men like you and me. If we, right now, snuck up there into the forest for a little naked kissin’ and huggin’, rubbin’ and comin’, well, if there was a dwarf nearby and a nymph reported what we were doing, the dwarf wouldn’t see any problem with killing us. Probably, more than likely, it would cleave us with its axe. They always have an axe handy.”

“Well, that’s just not right!” Paolo said. “Plus, I don’t believe in dwarfs or any of those other mythical creatures. The next thing you’re going to say is there are fairies around here and satyrs and such.”

“Fairies yes, satyrs probably not as they’re more often found in warmer climes, like Rome or Venice,” Carlo said. There was a fallen tree close by and he went and sat. Paolo joined him. “Here, look at the lease agreement Pierre gave us. See this here, these are dwarf runes; and, down here, see that, that’s the fine print. From the look of it, it’s five point reverse scripted runes. That’s where the meat of the document is hidden. And, a dwarf didn’t write it. That’s been done in the netherworld. Before we can make any changes, Albrecht—because he’s basically in charge of this whole thing—is going to have to present himself to the official adit and hope God is on his side.”

“What’s an adit?” Paolo asked, not paying much attention to anything other than Carlo’s slender thigh.

“The entrance to a dwarf mine,” Carlo said. “My guess is there are lots of them around here, but only one is where humans present themselves on business. They’ll know down in the village. Pierre knew, but he didn’t tell us. He knows or, rather, he suspects the dwarfs aren’t going to be happy.”

“You got that right,” a deep growly voice said behind them.

Feeling the ever so familiar tingling of his spine, Carlo turned and saw a large, black werewolf sitting behind them.

“Wait a minute, it’s daylight, you’re not supposed to be like that when the sun’s up,” Carlo said, trying not to look into the werewolf’s eyes, which was kind of difficult because those eyes were doing everything they could to stare at his, to draw Carlo into their power.

“Look up in the sky, over there to the right of the Schneemann,” the werewolf said. “That is a full moon. Doesn’t happen all that often in daylight, but it does happen. It’s not daylight that keeps me from being like this. It’s a moon past half that turns me.”

“Wait just a minute here!” Paolo exclaimed. Then the werewolf’s eyes caught his and he immediately felt himself being drawn into a deep, dark void. It was almost as if he couldn’t stop falling. The werewolf’s eyes were so enticing. They wanted him. He wanted them, to follow them, and to do whatever they asked.

“Stop!” Carlo exclaimed. “By His Holy Name! Stop!”

“Okay, okay, cool your britches,” the werewolf said averting his eyes from Paolo. “Why do you always have to call Him? You can say no. It’s only three little words. Just say no! Though, you have to admit, I almost had him. He would’ve walked right over here so I could give him a big slobbery bite on the leg. Isn’t that right, Roman?”

“How do you know I’m from Rome?” Paolo asked. He shivered, trying to push away the feeling of being overwhelmed by the werewolf. “And, besides, you’re not supposed to exist. You’re just a myth.”

“Do I look mythic?” the werewolf asked, getting up and walking toward them. It came around the log and practically sat between them, getting up close and personal. “Well, do I?”

“Of course not,” Carlo said, trying to move away, if only just a little bit. “So, what can we do for you, besides being bitten and drawn into your pack?”

“There is that, of course,” the werewolf said, lowering his head and scratching an ear with his back leg. “Here! Would you do this?”

Paolo reached out and began to scratch the werewolf’s ear.

“Yes, oh, yes, you don’t know how long I’ve needed that,” the werewolf said. “I was just commenting on what the dwarfs will do to you if you were to do that weird sexy stuff out in the open in their valley. Split your heads, probably. You could join me, though. I’m not a werewolf all the time. We could bunk together. The dwarfs don’t bother me at all. By the way, who’s the bottom?”

“We’re versatile,” Paolo said, proudly.

“Good, because I’m the alpha male around here, you know, a natural top,” the werewolf said, just as proudly, if not more. “That’ll make it easier when I decide which of you I’m going to mount. Ever been fucked by a dog?”

“No! That’s sick!” Paolo exclaimed, pulling his hand away from the werewolf’s ear.

Carlo just chuckled.

“You’re from around here, aren’t you?” the werewolf asked, looking at Carlo.

“Yes, a number of valleys to the east,” Carlo said with a smile.

“Oh, yeah, down toward those Lombards,” the werewolf said. “Used to live down that a ways, before I was bitten by a werewolf. They thought it was only a mad dog, but it ran off before they could catch and kill it. Of course, they didn’t know there was no chance of ever catching it. If anything, it probably would’ve turned on one of them and bitten him, too. I went mad, of course. They tried to lock me up, but I escaped, the wolf came in human form and helped. We settled here because of the plentiful sheep, but one of the farmers put out bait a couple years ago and poisoned Wolfgang. Yeah, that was his name and I killed the farmer. I can do that, too. I think it’s what you might call a dry bite. Would you believe I’m two hundred and fifteen years old, counting the eighteen years I walked as a human before being bitten?”

“Then you must be Alberto of La Rosa,” Carlo said. “You’re my, uh, let’s see, sheesh, ninth great-uncle. Does that sound about right?”

“Well, if we’re family, I guess I can’t bite you,” the werewolf said. “There must be a rule about that somewhere in the book. I’ll have to look it up. In the meantime, the moon will lessen in a few days. You might want to come up for tea. I can have my mate bake some cookies. A witch I know gave her this fantastic cookbook for all sorts of interesting things. Well, I’d better be off. See you around.”

With that, the werewolf bounded up the mountain and quickly disappeared into the forest. The two men sat quietly as if trying to fathom what had just transpired.

“We’d better get back to camp, Albrecht will start to fret,” Carlo said. “Come on, it was just a werewolf.”

“But, they’re mythical, they don’t exist,” Paolo said, adamantly.

“Maybe not in Rome, but you’d be surprised what exists in the Hinterland,” Carlo said as he stood up. “Come on, it’s getting late.”

* * * * * * *

Meanwhile, Gunther and a remarkably quiet Dieter were hiking up a steepening grassy slope toward a distant chalet barely visible in the shadow of the left arm of the Schneemann. Gunther looked about him at small herds of sheep, goats, and cows, but it was other things he was actually looking for.

He’d already seen an adit. He’d forgotten what they looked like, but as soon as he saw one he immediately knew what it was. The adit wasn’t designed for humans, though. It wasn’t hidden like someone from the Hinterland might expect. This one didn’t even have a magical cover. It was right there, practically out in the open. There could be only one reason there were dwarfs in this valley who weren’t worried about human contact. That wasn’t normal. Throughout the Hinterland, dwarfs avoided humans.

Gunther could see a problem coming with Albrecht’s idea for a schussing resort. The dwarfs weren’t going to put up with it and dwarfs solved their problems with axes. Gunther hadn’t seen a man cleaved by a dwarf axe, but his grandfather told him he’d seen it happen and it wasn’t something other humans should see, especially little impressionable boys, as grandfather had been at the time. It was his grandfather’s uncle who had been sliced in two, head to groin, by a dwarf axe, split his spine right down the middle.

Gunther just shook his head, trying to get the image of a cleaved Albrecht out of his mind.

“Are there a lot of dwarfs here?” Gunther asked, finally.

“They own the whole valley,” Dieter said. “The farmers hold individual leases, but the village has a community lease. I guess they could kick us out if they wanted.”

“Do you have a problem with any other beings?” Gunther asked. “I mean besides dwarfs. Are there nymphs and fairies? How about goblins and trolls? We’re too far west for vampires, but have you seen any? I visited here when I was a child and there was something about sacrificing virgins to hold back avalanches. Does that still happen, too? I found out my uncle died in the plague and he was childless.”

Dieter stopped and looked at the outsider. There were just too many questions, too many for one boy to answer. He looked around and saw a large rock where he went and sat down. Gunther sat beside him.

“Look, even if you visited crazy Old Heinrik when you were little, you’re not from here,” Dieter said with a sigh. “How can I tell you about this place?”

“I can tell him everything he needs to know,” a voice said from the forest above them.

Dieter steeled himself against the known possibilities enveloped in that voice. He and Gunther turned toward the trees and saw a large brown wolf bounding down toward them. It ran around the rock and sat down.

“Hello, Dieter, how are you today?” the werewolf asked. “Who’s your friend? Is he one of those outsiders from that camp at the bottom of the valley?”

“Angela, you have as many questions as Gunther,” Dieter said. “I’m okay, but he’s walking with me up to Franz’s farm. I’m to live there until I’m of age.”

“And, yes, I’m from the camp,” Gunther said.

“I remember your scent,” Angela said. “You’ve grown. What’re all of you doing here?”

“Our leader wants to open a tourist resort,” Gunther said before he could tell his mouth not to tell secrets. There was something about the werewolf’s eyes. He tried to avert his, but he seemed to be drawn to them. Suddenly, he saw it before him. The black void opened up, calling to him, as the Sirens of old lured mariners to their deaths. He quickly turned his head, stopping the call.

“Very good, Gunther,” Angela said. “I’ll wait here for your return.”

“It’ll be night,” Dieter said. “He’ll have to stay at the farm.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Angela said. “We can talk some more about your tourist resort. Will there be lots of human children for me to eat?”

“No!” Gunther exclaimed.

“Don’t like them anyway,” Angela said. “Well, I’d better be off. And, Dieter?”

“Yes, Angela?”

“Anytime you want, just let me know. The bite hurts only a little bit.”

With that, she rose and ran down the slope, jumped across the creek, and ran up the other side until disappearing in the forest.

“It was her, then?” Gunther asked.

“Yes, she’s nice as a human and not much older than me,” Dieter said. “I think she rather fancies me, but the alpha wouldn’t let me mount her. He barely tolerates me when they’re in human form.”

“You could go off to another valley,” Gunther offered.

“Not without a replacement,” Dieter said, “and Angela is the alpha female. I could only take her by killing her mate and he’s much bigger than I am. Come on, it’s getting late and we don’t want to be out this far up at night.”

“Goblins? Elves?” Gunther asked.

“Yes, and those sacrifices you mentioned?”

“Yes?”

“The victims weren’t killed, they were given to elves in the supposition that the elves wouldn’t start avalanches,” Dieter said. “Then one year there weren’t any virgins of the correct age, girls or boys, and we had a horrible avalanche that nearly destroyed the village, but it’s in the lease that the dwarfs have to provide protection. I guess there was a big discussion with the dwarfs about that line in all the leases. We haven’t had a sacrifice since and no avalanches either, except for a few natural ones, but the village elders know where those come from so they know what to do. Come on, we’ve got to hurry, the shadow is climbing the other side of the valley.”

They didn’t run fast, but as fast as someone from the Hinterland might run if he knew that elves preferred to hunt for humans at night and elves ate humans. There might also be other things out. Contrary to what Gunther knew, goblins pretty much left humans alone, even if a human was being hunted by elves, which goblins much preferred. You might say, a goblin used a human as bait for elves and if the human was killed in the process, oh well, tough and too bad. There were lots of humans in the world.

There might be other beings out in the night, too. There were the unnamed monsters, the under-the-bed monsters, the in-the-privy monsters, the behind-the-tree monsters, and the ever-dreaded behind-the-woodpile monsters. There were also the giant bats, deadly grass snakes, and the most hideous of all, the unseen being that left just a small puddle of blood where its victim formerly stood.

Ever conscious of the rising shadow, they tried to increase their speed against the steepening slope. In the distance, they could see candles had been lit in the chalet. Would the farmer answer the door at this hour? Hopefully, he was aware of their approach. If not, then, hopefully, he had full command of his farm. Hopefully, there were farmstead nymphs and fairies that had taken residence and might be able to provide some degree of protection, if needed.

Gunther was breathing hard, now. He wished he was younger like Dieter or hadn’t been so slothful at university. He kept glancing over at the rising shadow. Was it going faster, now? Didn’t the chalet seem closer just a few moments, ago? What was happening to them? Was this how it was to be? Was he going to die young, swept up in a swirl of elfin magic, then devoured alive?

“Hurry, we’re almost there,” Dieter called out. “You must hurry. We’re almost to the farm. There’s protection inside the walls.”

Gunther huffed and strained, trying to ignore the pain in his legs and chest. Why had he volunteered to do this? Why?