The Snow Man of Lamair - 1. Chapter 1

Myths of Naska:

The Snow Man of Lamair

Years ago in the mountainous forests that still surround the city of Lamair; a hunter stalked a deer through the ancient trees. This hunter was no more than 20 summers, filled with the boldness of youth and tempered by the fierceness of the wilderness. His people called him Edain, which mean’s rabbit. A hunter with such a name makes every attempt to prove that he was a lion rather than its food and this young man was no different.

That day Edain walked through the woods, bow in hand. The lithe blond-headed man had been tracking a deer for hours. The light was pale and slowly fading as it filtered through the dark pines.

The snow was beginning to come down as young man saw the stag and for a moment he thought it was a ghost in the evening light. It had massive antlers and a pale brown coat. The man knew then that he would have enough meat and then some for the lodge in Lamair. Edain slowly pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it into his bow. His heart beat in tempo with the creature before him, as his fingers glided back on the feathers and he drew back the string.

Edain let out a breath and was about to take his shot, when he heard a sobbing cry coming from nearby. He turned slightly, letting his bow loosen before trying again, his hand quickly pulling back his string to let loose the arrow.

The tension in his body was palatable as he made ready to release his arrow into the stag. But then another crying moan came from nearby and the young man jerked his arm as he released his arrow sending it flying wide and alerting the stag to his presence.

The animal seemingly not bothered by the sounds became alert to the feeling of air gliding along hairs of his back and the twang of a bow string. It took less than a second for the great male animal to spring into action and with a leap and bound it disappeared into the forest.

Edain cursed under his breath, shaking his braids away from his face. The young man frowned in thought; his quarry getting away left him with nothing to do but to return home. He slung his bow over his shoulder and walking forward to see if he could retrieve his arrow quickly before returning home.

His green eyes searched the snowy forest near where he sent the arrow. After several seconds of careful scanning he found the green and black fletching and with a quick movement the hunter plucked up his arrow. Then he paused for a moment to check the broad head and placed the arrow back into his quiver.

It was then that he heard a third cry this time much closer, the green-eyed man drew his short sword, prepared for an attack by a lion. But the expected attack did not come, and after several minutes he could still hear the whimpering, and soon realized while cats could make sounds similar to humans in form, they couldn’t do so consistently.

The hunter held his bronze short sword at the ready as the young man pushed his way through the underbrush towards the sound. Finally breaking through a fence of bushes he found a pale black-haired young man curled into a ball among the leaves and cold pine needles.

The boy’s skin looked white from the cold, almost blue as he shivered from exposure. He could not have been older than Edain himself, and certainly was not much younger. His locks of black hair wove down his back like a protective net, his only protection against the cold. The cold young man whimpered, looking up at Edain in a panic, “Don… Don’t hurt me.”

Edain looked around slowly scanning the woods, expecting a trap. But after several seconds of sensing no ill will or movement in the air, the young man bent down and held out his hand, speaking in a quiet soothing voice, “I won’t hurt you.”

The other young man looked at him for several seconds, his blue eyes piercing Edain’s own before making his decision and took the tall man’s hand.

Edain pulled the boy up close to him, then pulled his coat around the boy and draped it around the younger man in an attempt to keep him warm. “It’s getting late. I’ll take you into Lamair. You can stay the night at my place.” Then taking the other man’s hand Edain chopped through the underbrush and back out onto the trail.

The two walked in silence for a few miles before Edain spoke nervously, “I am Edain Llor, what’s your name?”

The boy looked at the back of Edain’s head, his brows knitted in concern. “My name… Marcus Aurelius.”

Edain frowned, “Hmm from the Imperial Heartlands eh? Aurelius… I know that name from somewhere.”

The other man shrugged hugging the coat closer to his shoulders, “I doubt that, I am not from the Highlands.”

The two entered a mountain path that led to Lamair. The trees were thinning out both in population and health; many looked either dead or sickly. All the while the path grew steeper, rocks and broken boulders were peeking from the dirt everywhere as if from a great upheaval as Edain asked, “So where are you from?”

The other man looked at the back of Edain’s head with a small smile, “An estate a little north of Tehlar.” His smile warmed as he spoke of the green farmlands and vineyards, entertaining the two of them until they reached a deep gorge.

Across the gorge swung a large ramshackle-looking rope and timber suspension bridge. Ancient decorated pots hung over the span. While the pine and rope structure could hold five men abreast, it hardly looked safe as it teetered precariously over a deep, dark and jagged gorge.

Edain walked purposefully towards the center of the span, then realized Marcus was no longer with him. The green-eyed man turned back to see Marcus standing at the end of the bridge giving the chasm a sickly look.

Edain gave the raven-haired man a cheeky grin, “You not scared are you? This thing could hold a cavalry.” He gave a boyish grin and jumped up and down on the center of the boards. The result was several cracking sounds but otherwise Edain stood there safely. The northern man walked up to the Heartlander, and firmly took his hand. He led Marcus out onto the span, pulling him close in a way to protect the man from his own fear.

Marcus blushed at Edain’s grip of his pale hand. “I … I ... ok.” Then he submissively followed the blond man across the bridge. The blue-eyed man pulled himself closer to Edain as if the blond-headed guy would protect him from falling into the rushing waters so far below.

By the time they crossed the bridge into the ramshackle mountain city of Lamair, the sun had dipped below the horizon leaving the town in a bright grey glow.

The town guard nodded absently to Edain, then eyed Marcus up and down with an arched eyebrow. “You didn’t get anything again I see. Tell your new friend he needs to get some decent clothes.”

Marcus pulled himself closer to Edain as the two walked through the town.

The town was a frontier town, just as many women walked through the streets carrying deer over their shoulders as carried linen. Similar could not be said with the male population, there were far more men who were hunters and warriors then were scholars. Most people wore leathers and in the cold of the coming winter, many wore furs.

Edain led Marcus through the mud and wooden streets to a small wooden longhouse. From the outside the building was a plain log structure, with only small window’s looking out onto the street. The taller man turned a wooden latch and pushing open the door with a bang against the wall, shaking dust down from the rafters. “My home, I am alone now since Ma passed on.” He then made his way into the darkened interior and around a screen that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the house. Edain opened a chest at the foot of his bed, pulling out a tunic and a pair of breeches. He then flung them to Marcus. “Here these should help a bit.”

Marcus had shrugged himself out of the heavy fur coat almost as soon as they entered the privacy of Edain’s home. The young man sputtered as the other boy threw clothing at him, then took the leather breeches and pulled them up his legs, tying the strings as tight as he could over his emaciated form, before pulling the tunic over his head. Both looked too large of his short, starved frame.

Edain stoked the fireplace bringing up the coals, and tossed in a log to bring up the fire. Then the young man sat down in a chair and looked up at Marcus. “So you want to tell me how come you were out in the woods alone, naked?”

Marcus turned around finally clothed, his pale eyes taking in the flames, before looking out a window. The black-haired man’s eyes distant and his expression slackened for a moment before returning back to Edain. Marcus set his jaw then blushed slightly giving the other man a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s a long story.”

Edain frowned, “Well if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to, however it could be important.”

Marcus shrugged. “It’s ok; I am over it now, here in the warmth. Thank you for bringing me here Edain.” His voice turned hollow as he continued, “I was in a caravan that was coming to Lamair to fortify the garrison when we were attacked by wild men in the hills. They came upon us like lions springing up on both sides of the road, painted and wearing little. They let out screams that would chill your soul as they killed the guards. Then they turned on the citizens, their leader a great bear of a man, wore the teeth of his victims around his neck as he grinned at us. I ran from them, and hid above the camp as they… they raped my sister then they killed her, along with every one of the other women, even the old healer.” He was breathing deeply; the black-haired man seemed to be hyperventilating his eyes clouded in fear.

Edain looked up at him with concern. “Its ok you don’t have to say more.”

Marcus shook his head. “No!” The man’s eyes were distant as if he wasn’t talking to Edain at all but someone else. “I won’t let you!” He looked back at Edain again as if seeing him again. “I couldn’t let them do it, and came back into the camp but they captured me. Disarmed me like a man would a child. I was a legionary, but … it didn’t matter.” He shook his head, and shuddered slightly, “Then they beat me, and used me like I was less than women, like… like a dog. The big man thought I would be worth something, wanted me as a pet.”

“I was there with the … the barbarians, a week with Halfdan Two-Bears ... before I escaped. I ran naked through the woods,” the pale boy rubbed his now clothed shoulders looking at the fire, “I ran and I hid. But then, wolves came, huge white monsters with hungry maws. So I went into the bushes … so cold…” He turned his head, and gave Marcus a soul-haunted smile. “I was so cold … hiding there. It seemed like forever until you came and found me.”

Edain gave the black-haired boy a weak smile, “Well I’m just glad I found you before you froze to death. We better talk to the mayor. He’s usually at the tavern about now.”

Marcus looked at him, his already pale features going white, “Please, please don’t make me tell the story again, it hurts to even think about it.”

Edain showing more understanding than many his age normally would, and acting like a protective older brother, he said, “Don’t worry I’ll talk to him.” Something about this man made him feel, even while the strange heartland man confused him inside.

Edain walked to the door, and looked back at Marcus and grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you the tavern. You could use a drink anyway.”

Marcus’s smiled back shyly, following after the tall northern boy back into the muddy streets, leaving a small puddle of muddy water next to the fire.

The two men walked through the ramshackle streets, walking past a large empty brick building, the bricks and stones falling apart. Edain spoke in the chill air, “You would have a lot of work to bring the garrison back up to shape I am afraid.” He waved his hand up at the empty building. “It hasn’t been in use since before I was born.” The two continued on their way to a large oak building built into a hole ripped from the masonry and mortar wall that surrounded Lamair. A decorated sign above the door gave the place the convenient name of the “Hole-in-the-Wall Tavern”

The blond-headed man pushed open the doors and walked into a massive bright lit hall. Fire crackled from a massive fireplace. The room was dim, and filled with the stuffed heads of hunting trophies, but at the same time it was hardly quiet or empty. A large staircase led to a large upper gallery, held up by intricately carved wooden pillars; on a whole the place had a welcoming atmosphere. And, by the number of men and women who sat at the bar and the tables, the tavern was markedly the most popular place in the wilderness town.

Edain moved through the crowd and made his way up to the gallery to a corner table. Then he looked down at a large balding man.

The man’s size dwarfed the chair in which he sat as he smoked his pipe. However the man’s size was that of a mountain of musculature rather than that of a person living a sedate lifestyle. What remained of the hair on his head was pulled back into a top knot, and his great black beard was neatly trimmed and pulled together, giving him the look of a man both wise and more warrior than politician.

The big man looked up, taking a puff on his pipe before using the device to wave Edain and Marcus to a seat, “Ah young rabbit, I’ve been expecting you. Rumor around town is you found a new type of deer. More of the naked human variety, unusual game for the season, I’d say.” He looked around at Marcus, “I take it you be the deer?”

Edain frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Sven.” He looked at Marcus, “Marcus Aurelius, this is Sven Björntass, the Mayor of Lamair.”

Marcus gave the big man a small smile, shivering slightly at the attention given him. “Ni… Nice to meet you sir.”

Sven laughed, his booming voice resounding around the room. “So you are a deer after all, don’t be shy boy. I’ve known Edain here since he was nigh the size of a real Rabbit. Mighty fine lad, good of him to get you here. So you two get some ale and tell me what brought a young man to be naked in the woods.”

The two young men ordered a couple of drinks, and recounted their story to Sven, the big man rubbing his jaw as he listened intently for several minutes then sat in silence puffing on his pipe. He blew out smoke rings as he spoke, “Halfdan Two-bears, I swear I’ve heard that name somewhere before. I’ll have to ask around though. We can’t have marauders running amuck up here, not neighborly. Especially if the empire is going to reopen the garrison, that’d be bad for business. No sir, tomorrow I’ll get some men together and see if we can’t deal with them.” He looked at Marcus, “You planning on sticking around kid, it’s a rough life, especially for a legionary deserter up here, but I ain’t got no qualms if you want to.”

The Heartlander looked at him, stuttering a bit as his spoke, “I … I don’t have any plans sir.”

Sven took a long puff on his pipe. “Well boy, I’d say think about it in the morning. You’ve had a long ordeal, and deserve some rest.” He looked at the two and grinned. “Now if’en you two don’t have any more business with me, I dine alone and don’t like freeloaders while I eat stare’in at me food. Now shoo get some food in yer bellies and rest.”

The two young men scrambled out of the chairs leaving Sven to eat supper. Edain pulled out some coins from his purse, buying the two of them dinner as well. Then went over to another table and sat down with Marcus.

It was not long before a young woman brought out two bowls of stew and set them in front of the two boys. Then the woman waited a few seconds her hands on her hips, a hopeful look on her face.

Edain barely looked up at the broad chested woman. “Thank you Nilsine.”

The woman frowned glowering at the man, “You’re welcome Edain.” Then she stalked off as if the man she just served had done her a disservice. Her brown hair trailing behind her as she stomped back into the kitchen and after a moment there was the sound of dinnerware shattering.

Marcus frowned watching the display. Then he dug into the stew as if his life depended on it, eating the large pieces of venison and chunks of carrots with the vigor of a dying man, leaving the two men in silence as they ate and drank their fill, while emptying Edain’s purse. Then they returned to the Edain’s long-house, happier and more satisfied than they left it.

The blond man stoked the fireplace again to keep the house warm for the two of them, and then felt hands on his back before he turned, and a head against his shoulder.

Marcus whispered in Edain’s ear. “I wish to thank you for saving me.”

Edain turned slightly to the other smaller man not knowing the Heartlander’s meaning. “You don’t have to… Besides it’s kind of good to have someone else in here. It’s kind of lonely without anyone else.”

Marcus gave Edain a small heart-haunting smile as he looked up into the hunter’s eyes. “But I want to.” Snaking his arms around Edain’s back as he reached up and kissed him, pinning the hunter against the fireplace.

The blond-headed man pulled back a little at first as Marcus laid his lips upon him. Then as heat flushed through his body turning his cheeks red he wrapped his own arms around the smaller man and returned the kiss in kind.

As the two pulled away for a breath, Edain spoke, “I’ve never done this before, and you really don’t have to Marcus, not now.”

Marcus blushed slightly, “Well I did in Tehlar, and I really do want to.” With that he leaned in again and kissed Edain’s shoulder whispering, “Let me guide you…” pulling at the strings of Edain’s trousers.

The tall man gave in, pulling his new friend to the bed. The dim firelight danced with the shadows as the two made love, and the crackling of burning wood complimented the moans of Marcus as the shorter man passionately gave himself to his savior. Then the two laid there exhausted drifting off to sleep as a wolf howled in the forest far beyond.

The next thing Edain felt was the sound of someone incessantly pounding outside. The tall man groaned, and turned over, then opened his eyes with a smile as he felt Marcus next to him. This was quickly followed by a frown as he realized it was the door that the sound was coming from.

The hunter pulled away from the bedding with resentment, and pulled a loincloth up his waist and tied it off before going to the door. “Yeah, yeah just a minute.”

He opened the door to rubbing his head and pulled his blond hair away from his face to be confronted with the huge chest of Sven Björntass.

The big man looked did not look happy, pulling himself into the longhouse he looked down at the shorter man, “Your friend Marcus still here Edain?”

Edain rubbed his head. “Yeah, what of it?” He pointed to the other side of the wall screen that separated the bed from the rest of the longhouse. “Back there, but why are you here?”

The big man marched into the back, followed by a normal-sized guy wearing glasses and long robes. Edain followed tentatively, still half-asleep.

The three men were presented with an odd scene, before them on the bed sat not a young man but a pile of slush and snow, slowly melting into the bed.

Sven just shook his head and turned around giving Edain a half-knowing look. “Well now that is odd, wouldn’t you say Rigour?”

The middle-aged scholar nodded his head rubbing his jaw. “Indeed most strange indeed.”

Edain looked back and forth between the two of them. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Sven frowned, “Well you see Edain. When you mentioned Halfdan Two-bears, it didn’t sit right with me. See I heard the name before. I spent most the night trying to remember where, then I realized… Halfdan Two-Bears was my great granddaddy, and was the Chief of this region some 200 years ago. So this morning I went to talk to Rigour here, and we went and looked up some the old records.”

The greying scholar spoke up then, interrupting the big man, “Marcus Aurelius was a young legion commander back then when the Empire attempted to take the highlands for themselves. Halfdan Two-Bears a chief and hero who fought the Empire to a standstill during his lifetime, even managed to take Lamair.

The “Hole-in-the-Wall” was actually his doing you see. Marcus was an arrogant fool of a boy who underestimated Halfdan and the tribes. The commander only brought a token force to take command of Lamair from his predecessor, getting his entire group massacred. Marcus was then captured and let go in a wild hunt. They never caught him, and he was never seen again.”

Edain looked at the two men dumb struck, not able to speak.

The two men shook their heads and left Edain in his daze and confusion. Sven spoke once more before closing the door, “If you see the Marcus boy again, let me know.”

Edain let the two men go quietly talking to himself in his confusion. “A ghost…. Last night we… I touched him and he … 200 years?” He held his head as he sat down on the edge of the bed going silent for some time in shock staring in space. …. Then the man lay down and cried, his tears mingling with the slush on the bed.

The hunter whose name was rabbit stayed within his cabin for days not coming out to eat, to hunt, or to socialize with his friends. It was a week later when Edain left Lamair with sunken eyes and a grim look on his face. He was carrying his pain just as visibly his bow and sword. Once he left the city, Edain Llor was never seen again.