The Lampwatcher Ch. 05

The Lampwatcher: Chapter 5

By Aersnow96

Author's Note: Before this project, I have not been able to put out a finished work for more than a year. I started more than a dozen projects but each one I haven't been able to finish. I would get into the smaller details, adding and adding but never being satisfied with it.

Until I get too frustrated and tired and move on to another project.

I have folders just lying in my desktop untouched and unfinished.

So I tried something different with the Lampwatcher.

After I put out all of the chapters here, I'll do a revision and editing to smooth out the entire story.

I have to admit, I got nitpicky with this chapter which is longer than the previous chapters. There were times, where I feel overwhelmed with how big this chapter was.

No sex scenes just yet but there is action.

Thank you for your understanding and take care.

She was in the backwaters of the country now. These lands were supposedly tamed. Mapped even. But she couldn't help but feel a certain wildness in these parts.

She had never realized how big the country was. It's almost like uncharted segments of a map. From the western border to the southern whole were covered with the greatest mountain range of the known world. It was so impassable and dangerous and there really was nothing of value here, save for the expansive pasture lands perfect for a great variety of livestock.

The village of Swindlecotte was nothing of note as Nicolette reined her wagon in.

Which might explain as to why she was not able to find its name or location in her maps, which were the most updated among her family's possession when she made her "early departure". She was certain it would not be missed. She left a trail that suggested she might have headed east. That would have been a logical choice for her, in their perspective. They really have no idea how expansive their own countryside can be. As evidenced by Swindlecotte and half dozen villages she passed through to get here.

The village was a quaint little collection of houses. Habitations of dirt and stone so small, she was surprised at the number of people that lived within. Won't they be cramped? She had it heard but never once got to see the looks of the inside. It was all so not quite private. She had thought that such habitations were from a bygone era, almost a hundred years ago but no, these structures were still quite of use to this day. The things one learns every day. She passed by an archway that had been dilapidated by the weathers and time, almost a mere memory from olden times.

Being in the hilly rural parts, the houses and roads were uneven. As in swooped to and fro and sudden extreme curves. It was quiet here too. Niocolette had been used the constant rousing of several thousand people, animals and what not. She was unnerved by the underlying silence of it all. Still the people seemed busy in their own little lives that they were unperturbed by a new arrival.

One would've thought that being in the farthest reaches of the map, they would get sparse visitors, but that doesn't seem to be the case here.

Wagons of various shapes and make have stopped here.

She made her way looking for the most westward path out of the village. And true enough she did find what she was looking for. Though she noticed some folk eyeing her as she did. Odd, they barely cast a glance when she passed through the center of the village but here in the outer rim of the village, they seem to cast a wary eye on her.

Nicolette passed a rather imposing man who towered over her despite being seated atop the wagon. It was in the way he carried himself, that confident stride in his step, the kind one would see in a leader. The village headman, she deduced. He seemed to about to speak up to her but cast a glance behind him and gave a small, somewhat tired, sigh.

Her wagon bounced with every little rock they passed on, which was plentiful. The path was rough. a great pastureland lies out west of the village, along with other scant domestic holdings who preferred these parts of the village.

She raised an eyebrow as a young man approached. He was young but her attention was focused to the fusil he carried. She had thought that this was just another quaint mountain village but from the looks of that fusil he carried, it seemed to be of custom-make. Looks well maintained too.

He was rather quite convinced of monsters that lived into the ravine and out of the mountains. Another local superstition, she helped herself from crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at the poor young man.

He seemed the gullible, earnest sort. The kind where you had to put far away from others and kept busy with some menial task. She felt sorry for the boy.

When she reined her wagon to keep onward, the boy stepped out on the path.

A vein popped on her forehead and her eye twitched at the pluck of this buffoon. She gripped her hand tightly on the reins, lest she smack the idiot for barring her way. She reminded herself that she was not Lady Nicolette La-Minnings. She was just another settler among thousands vacating the troubled east duchies.

A brief meeting with her beloved carabine sent the fool skittering to the side, allowing her to proceed unhindered. Nicolette couldn't help herself. She must applaud the young man's audacity, these county folk sure are a superstitious lot.

She passed by the tower. It was an ancient structure. Sturdy but old. Her path took her to a steep downward slope, leading all the way towards the ravine. As everything west of the village, the land itself slowly grew steeper and steeper until the very mountain range itself barred no further travel.

It had been way past noon when she arrived at the mouth of the ravine. The sun had been casted behind the peaks.

The mouth of the ravine was like a small gnash, an open wound on the side of the mountain.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her ox to pass through. With further encouragement that was borderline threats, the old beast had no choice but to shamble on through.

She decided against lighting a lantern. The steep walls were liveried with roots and a small stream of water ran through the ravine.

She passed by thirteen lampposts of great antiquity.

The path was uneven that every few feet she jumped on her rump.

She breathed a sigh of relief she had not realized she was holding.

It was much wider. But much of it of the distant was covered in small hills and thick groves of trees.

The faint silhouette of the looming mountains at its side were visible through the cloudy haze.

There was a muffled silence here and only the mere clashing of water against rocks in the stream was the sound here.

She gulped.

Who knows what lies here? How come no one had ever thought to explore these area of the country? Right in their own backyard nonetheless.

She could not see how far this place reaches. Thick groves blotted out what lies further beyond. But there were sparse field of grass. A prairie. Ideal for setting up a home or a field for crops.

The possibilities were endless.

She guided her wagon to a clear plot of land. She passed by another small house and cottage.

It was built inside a mound and was so primitive, she had to look longer to discern that it was the home of a man. She saw an old man peek out.

Go back! He screamed.

She merely shook her head and went to find a place she could settle.

The land was almost clear. Green grass good for grazing.

Again the old man came hobbling towards her.

He yelled go back! It isn't safe for you here!

A threat?

A warning shot from her rifle drove him off.

She eyed on horizon and on the setting sun.

It was to be the start of a new chapter on her life.

She settled her wagon and set up camp for the night.

She unhooked the ox from the cart and set it to feed on the grass not far off to the side. Then she set out to set camp for the night. She would have to plan how what to do for the next couple of days. Just her and the nature. What she would have to build those primitive houses had some practicality to term. Which begged another question why they didn't cut down some lumber? They have a great number of supply so close. Must be another superstations of theirs. She merely shook her head.

She got a fire going. The stars here were unlike anything she had ever seen. So clear and so brilliant. The more she traveled deep in the country side the more she got to see these night sky.

The stars were beautiful. There was boundless freedom here. It was a beauty.

She slept that night.

******

John was now beyond the Thirteenth Lamppost, feeling exposed. The sun would be setting soon.

There was a place his grandmother had shown him. A billet box she had called it. Barely enough to fit a grown person in. It was built with stone and into a small hill. It was stuffed inside but it should keep him safe. There was a partition wide enough so that he can aim his fusil but small enough that no attack can come towards his way.

There were age old claw marks on the stone and he wondered how safe this place was. The billet box was disguised blend into the surrounding small hills and foliage and situated atop a small rise to give a better perspective of the land.

It was built for one and one alone. A person couldn't even lie down properly and had to adapt.

It was here that he stayed the night. John could see not that far off in the distance, in a small clearing the light of a campfire. Fusil in hand he watched. Hoping that nothing could go wrong with the night.

*****

She was awoken by the sounds of crunching, the sound reminded her of mother when she ate carrots. That audible crunch was unmistakable. A cold shiver ran through her spine as she listened in the darkness.

Nicolette laid there just for a good bit; eyes still bleary. Sleeping beneath the wagon stave off much of the worst of the elements and if it should come to it, beasts. Her thoughts ran back to what the young man said.

Could it be...monsters?

Preposterous. She had been spending too much time among these boondocks. Still, it would be prudent to have her weapon handy, the mere sensation of the wood reassured her and steadied her breath.

She listened. Making sure she wasn't in any dreamlike state.

There! There it was again. That crunching noise.

It was by instinct that she felt something was wrong. Her hand gripped the clasp around her carabine.

The fire had died out, all that remains is the smoldering embers a couple of feet away. Not a cricket's song nor the croaking of toads can be heard. The faint whisper of the nightly chills grazed her nape, making her clasp her collar tightly.

A sweat trickled down her brow, feeling the suspense heat as her eyes danced from every direction.

With a careful step, she crawled out of her wagon. The crunching was muffled.

It was coming in the direction not far off to the right. The direction of her ox. Her brows furrowed at that, the beast should be asleep at this hour.

Her next step could have echoed throughout the silent dark.

A hunkered shadow reared its head upon her. Its eyes settled on her. Every hair on her body rose on tis end. Her heart stopped for a beat as those giants eyes landed on her.

And then it rose to its full height., the questionable liquid glistened and drooled out of its head.

Recalling much of her nerves, she aimed and fired.

The blast shattering the night followed by a horrendous beastly shriek of pain.

*******

The unmistakable blast of a fusil woke John from his drooling slumber. He rushed out of the billet box at full sprint towards the direction of the woman's camp.

Ever since he had begun his office as a Lampwatcher, failure had followed. One after the other.

He hated it. He forced his legs at full sprint, lungs burning, as if wanting and willing to burn that fear and failure away. Sweat rolled down his back and his throat was dry upon hearing the sound of something large and angry yowling in the night.

Cold where his hands, fear set upon his blood, not knowing for certain if they were cold or hot.

Only in theory did his grandmother ever taught him how to engage in combat with the creatures beyond the ravine. She really was intent of him not living this sort of life.

It was too let for regrets now, for he cannot leave this as it was. Cresting upon the last hill, the sight made his blood run colder at the sight.

All he could see was movement. A large swathe of shadow, so virile and agile that he felt blood leave his face. He was going to face that?!

He had no tower at his back nor any good light to keep the darkness at bay. Only this dangling lantern at the end of an eight foot pole. It was heavy and clumsy. Used only as a means to douse the fire on the lampposts.

*********

In one swift motion, both her pistolas were on her hands, blasting. Almost as one, she let loose their loads into the beasts that it might have as well been one single shot. A whipping clamor and a swirl of shadows, and she was suddenly five feet off the ground, hurtling.

She slammed back towards the dirt, stopping just short of a few feet from the wagon.

Her mouth was agape like a fish out of water, trying to get in air. The creature yowled in pain, rolling in the dirt, shaking the earth with little quakes underneath her. A searing pain bloomed out towards from her chest, kicking dirt with her heels to get up.

She might as well be a fish trying to slop back to safety, a pathetic attempt.

The beast reared its head unto her, searing her mind with that reptilian ruby gaze.

With a roar of rage, it lunged towards her.

She could not outrun this thing. She put all her will in one push of her arms skidding backwards underneath the wagon.

She refused to think she was going to die.

She wanted a new chapter in her life. How ironic it would be over before her own adventure would start.

It was battering her wagon, trying to get to her.

Hastily failing numerous attempts at unsheathing the stiletto hidden on her boot heel.

A claw gained purchase, trying to lift the wagon. She discouraged that with a vicious thrust and was rewarded with another howl.

Her small triumph was shortlived. With renewed zest, it thrashed against the wagon with the fury of a hurricane. She screamed, hands clutching her ears at the loud noise.

The wood buckled, pieces were breaking. A vicious looking claw pierced through. Easily the length of her own hand. And glowing yellow eyes, the eyes of a cat.

She ram through her sabre through the cracks in the wood. Slowly the wagon was losing its integrity. It would soon crush her.

Seeing the wagon barely holding together, she hoped that she would be crushed instantly rather than be mauled and torn to shreds by some horror of the night.

She waited for that death, feeling every moment when it would end.

Fire burst, flashing the night in one brilliant moment. A wave of heat washed over her face, shutting her eyes closed.

Then the crack of a fusil and the sound of boots on dirt, running closer.

She was disbelieving what was happening. Help? But who?

*******

He hit close but not close enough. He had only one good shot.

But the problem now was the creature's attention was on him now.

It watched. Waiting. He raised his rifle. The crack of a whip.

He sweated all over. He clutched

He shattered his lamp, dousing the creature in flames. He was lunged by the creature, but managed to fire off a shot before the creature could land a final blow.

The lampwatcher was injured. She felt nothing as she looked around on her broken and burning possessions.

She sighed, thankful that she was just alive.

*********

The fire blaze around them, some settled on her possessions. For a brief moment she saw what the creature really was.

She should have been afraid. The heat of the blaze was intense, even when was way out of its way. Whatever concoction it had been it was more than effective.

Then she stumbled on the young man. Even in this dancing light of the flames she could see a pool of liquid forming from the watcher.

A faint rising of his chest sent relief flooding through her. He will live.

She should be depressed. Even angry even. No one said this would be easy. Then again, things worth your while never were.

With her fusil loaded and resting loyally by her side, she lit a pipe.

Tomorrow's problems can wait. That's for her future self to handle. For now, she could just be lulled to sleep with the stars above, amidst the burning wreckage of fresh start.

*******

It was a serpent like tail coiling around him, near crushing but just stopped short. He was easily hoisted off the ground, one arm pinned and the other beating uselessly against the thick muscle.

The beast, hoisted him up just above its jaw. And he saw of the fate that awaited him. He pounded faster, desperate.

He couldn't reach his knife. Only the lantern. A desperate idea flicked. He bit the lantern ring with his teeth and

The beast gaped its maw with such length, his eyes widened. And nearly trembled loose the lantern. His fingers were cold. He unlatched the lantern and hurriedly uncapped the oil.

With one shaking arm, he poured it right at the gaping maw and some of its face.

It was annoyed.

John hoped as he was lowered towards its jaw.

He whacked the flickering wick.

It was undeterred. His legs were now within well into its maw. He tried to ignore the breathe.

He lost count how many he did, but he saw a thin trailing light snake its way on the beast's visage.

And with shocking realization that half its face was burning.

John was hurled roughly against the earth. Where was his weapon? He needed his weapon. He tried to put his legs under him but couldn't move it. He dragged himself away from the thrashing beast. He watched as it stumbled further to the already burning wreck of the wagon.

And with one last roar, galloped out into the night and into the woods.

He needed to stay awake, somewhere he felt something wet and sticky, he tried getting up once again, only to o hit back right into the dirt and into darkness.