Chương 7: Giant Jim

That evening Eoin returned, clucking over her like a worried mother and trying to help her repair the damage the device had done to her fórsa flow. Her fórsa felt like it had specks of dirt floating in it - remnants of Solas's Mind fórsa, Eoin guessed. The transfer must have left some trace of his own power behind. Miriam had shuddered at the thought of being polluted in any way by that disgusting goblin, but she soon got over it - there was nothing to be done.

They danced the basic water forms together as she stitched more fórsa up her hand.

"A ship will pass by the swamp in just under one month," Eoin instructed her.

"You must break free by then and find passage on it."

"I have no money. Does the Tír use money?"

"You'd better believe we use money," Eoin said with a crooked grin.

"But you could trade every scrap of junk in this hovel and not have enough for passage. You have to sign on as a deckhand."

"They need a deckhand?"

"They will by the time they get here," he said cryptically. Solas didn't come for her the next day, with no word or explanation as to the cause of the delay. Miriam spent the time warily weaving her fórsa, nervous that Solas might pop in with no warning and see what she was doing. She had very little notion of how this weaving was working against him, but she reasoned that him not knowing about it was likely in her best interest.

Very quickly Miriam tired of waiting helplessly for Solas to wring the power from her soul. He would not be the first predator she'd had to put down, and sometimes the most complex solution was not the best. During one of the many wars the menfolk of her village had been forced to participate in, she had found herself as the only member of her family with hunting experience. The fields had been rimed with frost, and their meager herd of cows down to only two saved for milking.

Miriam had been forced to enter the woods on the hunt herself. The Callihans had two rifles and one shotgun. Forced to choose between precision and power, she had chosen the former, and carried the rifle slung over one shoulder. It would be difficult to deploy in a desperate situation, but she didn't intend for one to arise. If all went well, the rifle would be for mercy, not stopping power. Also slung to her back was an iron contraption she had worked with the blacksmith to make.

No one on the frontier was a stranger to traps, but these were of a special kind that didn't get much use in the West of the newly formed Haverstam Province. They were used mostly in the North - and in the wilds outside of Marybel, on the other side of the world. People in Willowcrest never carried bear traps - it was almost sacrosanct to kill one. Unfortunately, one such beast seemed to be refusing to go down for the winter.

It had claimed the territories around Willowcrest and driven off the moose and caribou who used to huddle up for warmth near the hot springs nearby and had served as the citizens' usual last-ditch meal. Now the great bear was the Callihan's only option - that or try to brave the pass during winter to get supplies from Haresgarten, which was far riskier. Miriam was just past forty, and she was feeling every year that had passed. The trap on her back was a millstone, the rifle an anchor.

She huffed up the hill where he had most often been spotted, looking for tracks and scat which might lead her to their resident troublemaker. Just at the top of the hill she came face-to-face with the great beast, nicknamed Giant Jim by the local woodsmen. If he were standing, he would tower over her at nearly ten feet tall. Instead he lay curled in the snow, sleeping. His black body was dusted with snow, like a winter's sky of stars. Miriam was faced with a tough choice.

She had not expected to get the drop on him. The temptation to take a close-quarters shot with the rifle was high, but she knew that no matter how good an aim she had - and she was a fine shot - she could not be certain of killing him in one blow. Had she chosen the shotgun, she might have made a different plan, but she had what she had. She backed carefully and quietly down the hill again, desperate not to startle the sleeping giant.

Near the base of the hill, she unlimbered her trap and began to stake it to the ground. After that she bound a long chain to a nearby tree and locked it tight to the iron. From her pack, wrapped tight in oilskin, she quickly withdrew the last of the Callihan's meat larder - a skinny snow hare Miriam had bagged just yesterday. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Miriam set the trap, baited it with her prey, and waited.

For nearly two hours she sat still, eyes fixed on the top of the hill, waiting for Giant Jim to catch a whiff. She very nearly missed the sound of the great bear padding up behind her, its footsteps muffled by the snow. She bolted from her hiding spot, just as one giant claw raked the ground where she had knelt. Miriam had the rifle at the ready, but missing her shot would be doom for her.

Instead she darted towards the trap, trying not to think that all she had accomplished might be to give Giant Jim one more meal. She dove over the iron jaw now somewhat buried in the snow and whirled, daring the bear to come after her. The bear locked eyes with her and seemed to sneer. It walked forward in the face of her rifle. Do it, it's every step challenged. Just try. It reached the rabbit and barely gave the carcass a second glance. His true prey was much bigger. In his arrogance, he batted the rabbit away.

The jaws slammed closed with a sickening crunch. The beast roared, scrambling to free itself, but the local smiths did good work. Miriam backed away as fast as she could, out of fear that she might stray within the bear's range. The giant animal painted the snow red as it jerked the trap out of the ground, raking the teeth over the flesh of its front leg. It pulled at the tree in a frenzy, desperate to free itself. She waited another hour for the beast to tire itself out.

When it lay there, defeated and bloodied, she approached. The bear's hide was a map of old injuries.. Scars crisscrossed the ursine body, and one leg seemed to be festering. Perhaps that was why it couldn't rest.

"I'm sorry," Miriam said to Giant Jim.

"Death is always a tragedy for someone. But this time at least, your tragedy brings my family hope. The winter animals will return when you're gone. It's not your fault, but this is my only solution." Two shots to the cranium. Then more hours of carving meat and wrapping it in oilskin for the long walk home. It was with this in mind that Miriam began to fashion a trap for the next beast she needed to kill. This one she would feel much less sympathy for.

Solas's workshop was a wonderland of scraps, springs and gears. She didn't have the services of Willowcrest's blacksmiths, but there was enough here to give her plenty of options. Miriam could not rely on Solas being as dull as the bear had been - he would see a trap and know it immediately. It was also not something she could set off herself - he would take control of her with his Mind forsa as soon as he stepped inside the ward.

She settled on a plan and gathered her materials - a short pipe, a length of twine, an ashy fire poker, a slim plank of pressboard and a spring. The next morning Miriam huddled in the far corner of the room, just beyond the foot of her cot. Solas stomped down the stairs steadily with no hint of suspicion. His gait as he made his way from the stairs to the edge of the ward was as it had always been - shuffling, with a slight limp.

"No reason to sulk, girl!" he called merrily on seeing her curled up in the corner. The oddity of her position kept his eyes on her - not up towards the ceiling, or down on the ground. He lifted one foot to step over the threshold of the ward. He had done this each time she had seen him cross it. Was it to avoid wiping away the ward from outside?

Regardless, when he put his small, gnarled foot down, it was on the thin pressboard plank which had been hidden under a fine layer of dust Miriam had spent half an hour distributing so that it would be invisible from Solas's vantage point. This plank was suspended no more than a quarter of an inch above the floor, held taut by a length of twine under high tension. Miriam needed the board to make sure Solas didn't accidentally step elsewhere and miss the trigger.

The board clacked to the ground and the twine snapped free a spring that had held back the fire poker, nestled in the housing of the pipe affixed to a rafter in the ceiling. The poker, exposed now to the consequences of gravity, slid down the pipe, lancing towards Solas. The little gremlin's reflexes were faster than Miriam would have guessed and he backed out of the way. Instead of spearing him through the top of the skull, the poker jabbed into his thigh.

Solas screeched, batting the poker away; it wasn't heavy or sharp enough to go deep, but it didn't need to be. Miriam had learned the lesson Giant Jim had taught her well. She couldn't assume her prey would fall perfectly into the trap. She had to have multiple contingencies. Which was why when Solas screamed she leaped backwards away from the corner, twisting in the air to bring down her makeshift knife - a spring straightened and sharpened by scraping it tirelessly against a gear.

A knife she had hidden with her body while curled up in the corner. The tip of the spring-blade stopped less than an inch from Solas's eye. The Wisp began to cackle loudly, holding up one hand with which he controlled Miriam's mind.

"Very clever!" he chortled.

"No Wisp could have done it better!" He twisted his hand and Miriam dropped the knife, sitting primly on the cot. Solas examined the knife and the trap mechanism closely.

"Very fine work! Very fine! Solas is… proud of you! Yes, that's it!" Perhaps he could read her dour expression because he tut-tutted and shook his head.

"You deserve reward for such bravery! We will stay inside today, but I will bring you a glass of wine anyway." He limped back over the ward, but then turned.

"Wisps appreciate ingenuity. But no Wisp worth his salt ever fell for the same trick twice." He stomped up the stairs again, leaving Miriam alone, her plan in tatters.

"Well, hell," she said.