Cairan ignored the bar’s other patrons. He sat alone drinking a wine from Iber, ignoring the smells of sweat and beer. Games of stones and dice were being bet on around him, but on the table in front of him was a parchment, and it had his attention. On it was a picture of a fantastical beast that supposedly resided to the north, a great white-haired man-ape high in the mountains. Cairan pondered whether such a thing could exist.
Two rowdy men slammed into the table. The wine flipped and dumped all over the picture, ruining Cairan’s drawing and notes. His teeth clinched as he stood. His fists followed suit. He grabbed one of the muscular men and threw him off the other. He took the other man’s blood-splattered shirt in his fists and placed his face mere centimeters from the man’s.
“You ruined my picture.” Cairan kept his voice steady. His green eyes smoldered with rage. “You’ll pay me for that.”
The man looked Cairan dead in his eyes. Then he stood up pulling Cairan off the ground as he did. Cairan was still hanging on to the man’s shirt, feet dangling. The smolder was quickly going out of his eyes. It was not fear that came into them, but rather the sudden realization that this would not end well.
“Or what,” the man asked plainly. His wrestling partner was now closing in behind Cairan.
“Or…at least replace my wine?” Cairan grinned.
The man backhanded Cairan. Blood erupted from his lip. Cairan stumbled back into the arms of the other man who gripped him in a full nelson. Cairan slammed his head backwards into the man’s nose. Blood gushed and the man released Cairan immediately to clutch at his own face.
Cairan exploded forward and slammed his fists into the other man’s body and face repeatedly. Cairan may have lacked the weight and power, but blow after blow from Cairan’s bony fists wore the brute down.
What Cairan lacked in mass, he made up for in agility. He ducked and dodged the wild blows. Bobbing under and sidestepping the fellow’s punches, he kept pounding away. The man finally lost his wits and fell, winded, under the blows. His partner, recovering from the skull to the face, jumped on Cairan causing him to hit the floor. Cairan could not get turned over under the man’s weight. The man stayed on his back. His friend began kicking Cairan in the head. He covered up with his arms. Eventually the men tired of beating on him and let him up. They walked out laughing and clapping each other on the back.
Cairan staggered to his feet. He wiped the blood from his lip. Touching a sore spot on the side of his head where a kicking boot breached his defenses, he knew there would be a horrid bruise. At least they left him with his money. He sighed. The other patrons ignored him as he gathered his wine-soaked papers and left.
“I do not understand why you insist on doing your research in bars.”
Brenden was a more traditional Alkelti male. He was not book learned, in fact he could not read his own language, but he was street smart and had more muscles than he did sense. That was why Cairan had brought him on this adventure. Cairan had plenty of brains, but he needed Brenden’s brawn and well-traveled wisdom to survive the so far two month long journey. Ironically, he had not taken Brenden to the bar with him for fear he would start a fight. In hindsight, he wished he had.
Brenden would have had those ruffians begging for mercy in seconds, thought Cairan.
“I enjoy the company,” Cairan replied. Even Brenden knew sarcasm when he heard it.
“Bah! You hate people.”
Cairan shrugged. He took out a book. The subject was changed. It was time for Brenden’s lessons.
Brenden sat down to learn from Cairan how to read. He had the letters down now that they had been at these lessons for some month and a half. Now he was working on putting the letters’ sounds together to read basic words. Cairan had worked this in as part of Brenden’s payment for assisting. And sixty percent of any loot. Cairan only cared about the wisdom gained from their travels. He wanted knowledge and experiences. The money he kept was just enough to fund his travels and research.
After the reading lesson, Cairan went back to his notes on the man-ape. The creature was said to be tall, with white hair from head to toe. The face was said to be that of an ordinary man, with features that looked, to Cairan at any rate, to be Hoonite. Squarish face with well defined cheekbones and a strong set jaw, bronze skin tone. Of course, this was drawn from a handful of eyewitness accounts that Cairan had made sketches from piecemeal. For all he knew, he drew it wrong or was told wrong. But he had enough matching stories to have a basis for the drawing and an idea this thing was real.
After a night’s rest on a straw-filled bed, Cairan awoke somewhat rested though sore. A swollen bruise reminded him of the night before. He stretched slowly. Brenden he found already awake and doing push-ups one-armed on the splintery wooden floor.
“‘Bout time you got up.”
“Sun is not up yet.” Cairan rubbed his eyes. “But you are right I guess. Mountain will not climb itself.”
Cairan got up and packed his parchments and notes and a small leather-bound journal in which he kept logs of his travels. It held only a few used pages so far. He had travelled from his hometown of Luna in northern Marune to the mainland with Brenden and they had gone from Finn through Daneland into Hoon Major before hearing of the man-ape of the mountains. Cairan became obsessed with the legend almost immediately. Brenden did not care for it, man-apes had no loot, until Cairan convinced him that, while such a creature had no money, a certain fame would come to a man who captured one. Brenden interpreted this as “kill one and be king of the world”, but it had been enough to get him on board with trying to find it.
They left the inn and found a shop that had thick furs to keep them warm and dried meats to keep them fed. A few extra water skins and some torches completed their purchases. They already had a tent, swords, bow and arrows, knives, blankets of thick wool and cotton, and some baked hard bread that would keep for years until moistened with water or milk. They had enough food to last three months, though crossing the mountain would only take one following the main trails. Since the sightings had been mostly reported not far off the main trade routes, Cairan did not think it would take that long to find the creature if it did exist.
Packed and ready, they left town. They made an odd pair as they followed the main road - the taller, half-clothed man of muscle and the shorter, long-robed scholar- and Cairan was sure people probably had a laugh at their expense, but he had begun to like journeying with Brenden. He did not speak much. He seemed eager to learn to read, even if it was more for monetary reasons than scholarly pursuits. And being on the open road brought a certain peace to Cairan’s life that the libraries of Luna, though he loved them, seemed to lack.
Yes, Cairan thought, this will be a great adventure!
This is horrible adventure, thought Cairan. Early snows had come down the mountain and caught the duo two weeks in. A jutting group of rocks had given them some covering to build a fire and set their tent, but Cairan was cold and wet and ill. Worse to Cairan was the idiot grin on Brenden’s face.
That fool actually enjoys this, Cairan seethed. Like it is a pleasant vacation! Fool! We may die and he cares not.
Cairan shivered. Brenden had made a nice pile of wood that dried by the fire he got going and kept steadily feeding it. It had been too rocky for the V-shaped self-feeding fire to be put up, but this one was warm and kept steady. Brenden had piled wood in a semi-circle around them to block the wind. Cairan had to admit, the man knew how to survive. He even had caught some game that had been surprised by the weather as well. They had ate well enough, plenty of water remained for the hardtack.
In the two weeks they had been up here, they had not sighted their prey, but the third day some passing merchants mentioned something had rooted around the camp the night before. It was the only lead they had. It was why Cairan had ignored the signs of coming weather. But it could have easily been a lion, a goat, or any other animal. Still, Cairan held hope.
Now, shivering but warming by the fire, he hoped not to freeze to death, and that all this cold would be worth it.
Brenden stoked the fire. He had watched Cairan doze as he warmed by the flame. He thought of rousing him to go into the tent, but Cairan was bundled and warmed by the fire. Brenden would let him stay for now.
He looked off into the shadowy darkness. Pops from the fire were small echoes to the pops of tree branches weighed down by the snow. The moon tried to break through a cloud but ultimately gave up the effort. The winds redoubled and, for a moment, Brenden thought he saw something move in the shifting light of the fire. He stared for a long moment, nothing moving. Only vast white until the darkness obscured it, and somewhere beyond, the edge of the mountain cliff.
Brenden let out a quiet slow sigh. He told himself it was a play of light and shadow, but Alkelti gut instinct said something had been there. He scanned the areas visible to him and still saw nothing. He pulled his sword and readied it in his right hand, stoking the fire with his left, just to be certain he would not be caught unawares if someone or something had been lurking in the shadow.
The first rays of sun were peaking over the mountains behind them. Brenden saw a few glimpses of the purpling sky before he nodded. He was unceremoniously shaken awake by Cairan before the sky could change color.
“We must awake and venture!” Cairan was entirely too cheery for Brenden’s tastes, and, for a fleeting moment, Brenden seriously considered putting him in a chokehold until Cairan lost consciousness so he could get at least a good hour of sleep. He reluctantly decided against it and agreed it was time to move on.
“What is your fascination with adventuring,” asked Brenden. “You’ve no desire for wealth, except to further your studies, so why not just stay in Luna, reading at the library and learning from The Atlantean?”
Cairan thought for a moment. He had paused while holding his few notes on the mountain beast they sought. He looked at them blankly.
“I love the library at Luna, but there is a difference in the experiences gained from books and those gained from living. I want to have experiences; not just read about them. I want to write my own books to fill the shelves of those libraries like the one back home.
“This creature will be the first of many chronicled for a book I am hoping to make on the creatures of this world. The dragons are getting smaller and fewer and soon will be gone. Creatures we have heard of but seen only rarely will soon no longer be seen at all. There should be things for our descendants to look at and teach them about the world as their ancestors knew it. They should know of the wyverns and the flying dragons, the phoenix and the cockatrice, the leopards and apes and leviathans.
“They should know of Atlantis and the other empires that have fallen, of the ones that stand now before they fall. Or soon those things will pass into distant memory, and from there to legend, and then to myth before they are forgotten all together.”
Brenden stared at his companion. Cairan’s voice had gotten dreamier and more distant and ended as if he might cry. It was the first time Brenden had seen that much passion in any man for something other than killing and pillaging. It was the first he had seen Cairan show that much of himself. Brenden found it touching, if a bit odd.
“Anyway,” Cairan said, snapping out of his revelry, “let us get moving. We have much to do.”
Most of the day they ventured only near the camp. A few tracks led to a mountain goat that would become supper. They made note of a cave that they would relocate to soon. But there was no sign of the large footprints said to belong to the man-ape, nor cries of the howls he was said to make. Dejected, Cairan agreed when Brenden suggested they call it a day and relocate to the cave where they could be better protected from the elements. As if to emphasize his point, a heavy snow began, fat flakes falling in flurries. They hurried back to their campsite and quickly stripped it down. Even the fire was carefully relocated so that they would not have to start another one in the cave.
The interior of the cave was drier that the outside, after a brief mound of quickly accumulating snow in the opening. The fire was roaring again in no time and the building snow in the opening began to block out much of the wind coming in the cave. Brenden had built the fire to make as little smoke as possible.
Cairan sat nearby, still moping about having found no trace of the man-ape. He pushed back his coppery hair with a sigh and looked at the drawing he had made.
I’m chasing phantoms, he thought. For a moment he considered tossing the sketch into the flames and calling it quits, but he remembered what he had told Brenden about future generations knowing of these animals. He knew he must press on, at least until he was sure the thing did not exist.
A troubled dream brought Cairan to reality from a dead sleep. He had thought he had heard a warning cry.
Early rays of sun dappled the plateaued stone outside the cave entrance. Blurrily glancing about, Cairan saw the embers smoldering, flurries of powdery snow drifting in from the mouth of the cave, a lone bird of winter chirping noisily outside. A moment of clarity hit him and Cairan’s heart thumped to double speed. What he did not see was Brenden. For a moment, he tried to calm himself by repeating Brenden was probably out checking traps, or hunting, or gathering wood. That ended when he saw the large print left in the patchy snow that led into the cave. It was too large to be even Brenden’s foot print.
For a moment the panic of Brenden’s absence warred with the excitement of the find. Panic eventually won out as Cairan realized that the man-ape probably existed, something was definitely nearby, and he did not have Brenden to protect him. A slew of oaths to a great many gods followed this realization. He grabbed the large knife from his pack. Looking about, he did not see Brenden’s sword.
Good. Maybe he has it on him, thought Cairan. That will give him a fighting chance to survive. And the longer he survives, the longer I just might survive.
Passing the opening, Cairan’s eyes darted from one direction to another, searching out any sign of the beast or Brenden. A few already fading tracks led further up the mountain. Cairan took a deep breath and steeled himself. Resolved, he began trudging up the mountain.
Snows bore down hard and the wind picked up its howl. Cloak tight around him, Cairan trudged along following the quickly disappearing tracks. When they at last vanished, Cairan realized only then the despair of his situation. He had no tracks to follow forward, but turning he noticed his own quickly vanishing. Only a few steps away, they had faded into the white sheets of snow. Cairan knew he would not find his way back. He also knew it would take nothing for him to become disoriented trying to find his way back as the tracks he had followed had zigged and zagged in odd ways rather than a linear trail. Any attempt at walking back, especially in the blinding snow, could easily lead him right off the mountain side.
“Cernunnos’ left horn!” Cairan shook his head. Snow fell from it, though he took no notice. “And the right one! Where is Brenden when I need him? And now I am talking to myself! Great!”
Cairan trudge forward through the mounting snow. It was half way up his shins when he heard the howl. A voice he knew well cried out to the god Dagda and a second howl arose. This one clearly sounded like a cry of pain. But it was not a human voice making it.
Cairan rushed toward the howls and cries. His calves burned as he pushed through the thick blanket of white. They felt as if they would snap by the time he arrived.
Through the thick curtain of snow, Cairan did not see the corpse he tripped over. It blended with the snow, save the red blood coating it’s thick fur, and that was quickly being covered by the white storm. Brenden huffed, puffs of mist forming from his quick breaths, bloodied sword in his right hand. Four long gashes ripped through his shirt. Cairan panicked at the blood underneath.
“They aren’t deep,” Brenden said, seeing his companion’s worried face. Blood was still seeping through the woolen fabric.
When he finally saw the creature, Cairan was astounded. The creature was roughly seven foot tall. A leathery looking face held a wide-eyed expression. The open jaw held a blue tongue and several small flat teeth. Cairan reached out and pushed the eyelids closed over the magenta eyes.
Brenden picked it up with only moderate strain on his corded muscles and threw it over his shoulders like so many deer he had hunted. His knack for direction was so impeccable that he led the way back, even in the dense snowstorm, never once losing the way.
The fire held but a few embers when they returned to the cave. Brenden stoked it back to life and Cairan studied the creature more in-depth now that he was not snow blind. There was more dark brown leathery skin at the chest and on the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. The rest was solid fur. The soft and incredibly human face looked like it could be of either gender. He had no way of knowing if they aged like humans, but the face looked to Cairan like a person he would guess was in their late twenties.
Cairan said a prayer for the beast. He was not sure if these creatures were developed enough to have religious beliefs and gods, so he just said one to Cernunnos. Cairan began touching up his sketches of it.
The next few hours passed quickly. The pops and crackles of the fire and the wind at the mouth of the cave filled Cairan’s ears. Brenden sat silently tending the flame, occasionally watching as Cairan doodled his drawing of the creature Brenden had slain. He thought of how quickly it had moved for something so large. Only reflex saved Brenden from being sliced open when the thing had attacked. Had it not growled at him first, he would not have even seen it in the blinding storm. The scratches along chest and stomach itched, but were already healing.
A low howl came from outside the cave. At first Cairan thought it was the wind, but Brenden was on his feet in an instant, sword ready. A second ape creature appeared in the cave mouth. It was briefly taken back by the men’s presence and the glow of fire. It saw the corpse of the other, however, and all shock was gone. It shrieked a mix of anger and torment and charged Brenden. Brenden laid a slice across the beast’s arm as he quickly dodged. Undeterred, it charged again. Brenden dodged again but swung wild.
Cairan tackled the beast by throwing himself into its knees. It crumpled with a grunt and began swing its arms wildly behind it trying to strike at Cairan. But Cairan had already regained himself and was now on the beast’s back. He caught one of the flailing arms and pulled upward until the creature cried with pain.
Thus subdued, Brenden bound the creature, arms then feet. At this point, it no longer resisted. It stared blankly at the corpse on the floor and made pitiful moans.
Cairan studied the creature. This one was definitely male. The thick fur barely covered the dangling genitalia. Cairan pondered for a moment. He squatted in front of the ape creature. Staring at it face to face, Cairan sensed something intelligent and human in it.
Cairan put salve on the wound and bandaged its arm. He looked it in the eyes once more.
“I’m sorry. We were frightened and she probably was too.” He looked back at the female corpse. “Take her and go.”
Cairan pointed to the man-ape, then to the corpse, and lastly the cave mouth. When he looked at the creature again, it nodded.
Brenden watched nervously with a ready blade as Cairan cut the creature’s bonds. It stood slowly, stretching to its full seven and a half foot height. Slowly it made its way over to the female. It gingerly lifted her from the ground in its arms, keeping one cautious eye on Brenden. Backing away slowly, the male exited the cave. As soon as he was out, he turned and fled.
Brenden started to give chase. Cairan through out a quick arm and stopped him.
“Let him go.”
“We could follow it back to its lair. There may be more.”
“We will wait and observe. I need to know some things. Following it just might make him more hostile. Just be ready to defend if necessary.”
“Defend?” Brenden’s shout echoed through the cave. “How? I mean, one no problem, but if it comes back with more we will be trapped and killed in here!”
“I don’t think it will be hostile if it returns. Just be ready.”
Two days passed in peace. The snow had ceased leaving a light layer of frozen white across the ground. Brenden and Cairan had left the comfort of the cave and ventured further up the mountain.
The came to a second cave within two hours hike of their own. Within was a smell of dank water, feces, and rotted meat. Entering cautiously, torches lit and with Brenden at the head, they came only a short distance. Within lay the female corpse. There was some minimal decay, though the cold slowed it down considerably. Around it were heavy stones in a single layered circle. Nearby sat the male.
At first Cairan thought him dead. Eventually he stirred. He looked at the two with bloodshot eyes. The hair of his face was damp. He howled a low cry of despair. No effort did he make to stand or approach the two men.
Cairan moved closer cautiously. He motioned Brenden to lower his sword. Approaching the female’s body, Cairan made the sign of Cernunnous’ horns and touched the creature’s forehead. He then turned toward the male.
“You probably don’t understand me,” Cairan began, “but what happened did so because of fear and the will to survive. We mean no harm to you.”
Cairan moved closer with trepidation. He held out a steady hand. If the man-ape took notice of him, the only sign of it was a snort. Or maybe it was a sniffle? Cairan was not sure. Either way, he thought it best to approach with caution.
“I am sorry for your loss. We meant no harm in coming here. We were only curious. To see such a legendary creature…“
Cairan lowered his head. The realization hit him that his book would tell people about this animal and they would seek it out. Its fur would be sought out. It would become a curiosity to show in coliseums. It would be hunted and killed. If there were more of these creatures, there would not be for long if people knew about them.
“Nechtan’s eye! We cannot tell a soul.”
Brenden heard the lump rise in Cairan’s voice as he spoke. The truth came to him too and he understood there would be no profit in this venture. He sheathed his sword.
“I’ll be outside when you are ready to leave.” With that, Brenden turned and left the cave.
Cairan sat next to the beast. The cave wall was wet against his hair as he leaned his head back against it. He looked at the creature, its eyes distant and void, its face somber and stoic. Cairan twiddled his thumbs. He stared at his leather shoes as if the words to say would appear there.
“You should hide,” Cairan whispered breaking the long silence. “It will be a while before my writings are done. I have to be honest; it is just my nature. But that does not mean I have to tell everything.
Cairan patted the creature’s leg. He stood slowly and began to walk out. The man-ape made a grunt and Cairan looked back. The beast put a hand on his forehead and pushed it out, palm up. Cairan took this as some form of salute and returned the gesture with a word of goodbye.
Neither Cairan nor Brenden saw the creatures again. But in years to come, when either man crossed the mountain range, there always seemed to be a shadow that stayed just on the edge of sight, hiding in the frost-capped peaks, watching over them.
Cairan’s Animals Entry on the Mountain Man-Ape
The man-ape that resides in the mountains of distant Hoon Major is a sad creature. Black eyes are the highlight of a weathered, almost human, face. The burned skin tone like that of the Hoonites themselves makes the creature all the more human.
White fur covers them from head to toe. The males of the species have hair on the cheeks and chin. The females have smooth faces. Shorter body hair covers the female and exposed nipples peer from behind dense fur. The males have more hidden nipples but their genitalia are far more exposed. This too is covered in thick hair, preventing frostbite and other dangers in the deep cold and heavy snows that stay year-round on the peaks of the mountains.
It does have some primitive language, but it is unlike those of more modern men. It speaks to others of its kind in howls and grunts with short bursts that nearly sound like words just out of the ability to be understood. Certain linguistic gestures, such as a curt nod for affirmation or a brief shake of the head for negation, are familiar to most men of the world, and these creatures make use of these gestures along with the gutteral noises of affirmation or negation.
Though stories abound that these creatures still reside in the mountains around Hoon, it is unlikely. It has been some time since one was confirmed and of the two my travelling companion and I witnessed, only one was alive when we came down. If others reside on the mountain, they are much higher up where men cannot breathe the air.
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