The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - A Werewolf in the Dark

A Werewolf in the Dark

Larson and Garrett Adventure the Second by Aaron Dennis

Published April of 2015

Newest Edition December of 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Seven years of Larson's life passed before his eyes in a dreamlike haze. A great many things changed in Flotsam after the defeat of the reaper. It started with the death of Mr. Thatcher; old age had finally claimed a new victim. Then, Largo and Nyomi married. Largo sold the Ross house and farmland to other residents of their hamlet, and the brothers moved in with the Etreeses. By the time Larson had finished his schooling, five of those seven years had eased on by. A little later, some of the townsfolk moved to other towns like Sujam to the south or even to the city of Pallisade. Others came in their stead, and the story of the trio who defeated the reaper grew all out of proportion; that tickled Largo pink. He was viewed as the town hero, but to his chagrin, his manhood came into question on a personal level as he had been unable to father any children.

By then, Larson had grown to the age of thirteen, and since his schooling was complete, he took up the slack on the Etrees ranch, which had grown considerably from the money resulting in the sale of the Ross house and land. Tending cattle was tedious, though, and the teenaged boy longed for the high adventure of fighting monsters. A devastating change came two years later when Nyomi and Largo decided to separate.

The elder brother's inability to sire caused a great upheaval in his marriage. Larson was fifteen then, and with few options on the horizon, Largo consulted him in a very private matter; the older brother needed to put space between himself and Nyomi, but loathed the idea of leaving Larson in Flotsam, especially since their dad had never returned. The brothers agreed to venture off to Pallisade.

"After all, " Largo stated with a feigned smile, "I'll get the chance to immerse myself in work and make some money while you can join the guard. I know you long for adventure, brother, and soldiers get their fill of it in one way or another."

Larson scrutinized his brother. He had aged quite a bit in the years that had passed. Largo had shaved his head, giving himself a menacing visage, and that coupled with his hard eyes, solid jaw, and framing facial hair, he had been molded into someone unrecognizable, save the scar on his cheek where the reaper's flaming remnants had scorched his skin; the real badge of a warrior.

"Why would I join the soldiers, " Larson scorned.

Largo looked over his brother, who had turned into a near replica of their father, Mathew. His jaw had squared in adolescence. His cold, blue eyes seemed to shine with sheer resolve. He was thick and broad shouldered like a lumberjack. Larson still kept his hair long and pulled into a tight ponytail that accentuated his squared head. The teenage whiskers on his face and chin stubble provided him the look of a troubled youngster poised on the verge of manhood, but Larson was a real man; he had proved it seven years prior.

"You mean to tell me you don't want to keep Pallisade free of bandits, street scum, or whatever else, " Largo asked in a half-joking tone.

All that sounded fine to Larson, but soldiers had no volition of their own. They were merely tools at the nobility's dispense—a sword to be swung at their will—especially since the King of Ruvonia was said to never venture outside of Stormguard, the country's capitol city.

"I'd rather be a merc…or some traveling warrior, " Larson smiled. He heard himself voicing something so juvenile and laughed before adding, "And maybe save a damsel or two in distress."

The boys laughed for a moment, a thing they rarely did anymore, but a decision had to be made, and so they gathered up what little they owned and took the hard packed soil road to Pallisade. Finding work was easy. They were both strong, and getting away from Flotsam had a rejuvenating effect on Largo. Both brothers found employment in the city's poor district—or more commonly called with a twinge of banality, the worker's district—at a construction manager's warehouse. Larson worked inside and around the perimeter, keeping equipment, lumber, tools, and the like, clean and organized for the workers while Largo learned masonry and carpentry. Finding housing was an altogether different matter, a disaster even.

Houses in Pallisade were excessively expensive. None of the workers owned homes unless they belonged to large families wherein nearly everyone worked liked a dog, mule, or hog day in and out. The others were relegated to the warrens, a sort of mass housing where one at least was given a cot and a trunk for personal belongings. Others yet, the sick, the meek, the beggars, those touched in the head, roamed the streets and sewers. The brothers managed to find room in the cramped warrens since they were neither meek nor ill. The biggest change of all, however, occurred when Largo was drawn into a confrontation with the construction manager.

Larson had not witnessed the event, but when his brother found him hoisting lumber onto a pallet, he explained the problem. Largo had been promised time off, which he needed to help his new girlfriend's family rebuild their farmhouse way out in the outskirts of Pallisade, but the day before Largo was set to leave, the manager had called him over to renege. The elder Ross was fuming, and the commotion had swelled to involve other workers. The manager fired him on the spot, which he claimed gave Largo all the time in the world to help his girlfriend.

"We're out of here, " Largo yelled.

Larson arched his brow, set down the lumber, dusted off his hands on his gray trousers, and looked at his brother. The man was shaking with rage.

"What are you talking about, " Larson asked, puzzled.

"That horse lover went back on his word then fired me!"

Larson didn't know what to say. He just stood there and awaited the explanation rather than venturing a question. Finally, Largo demanded they go to the warrens and discuss their next step in life. It was only after they reached the dingy and dark quarters that Largo plopped down like a sack of potatoes on his cot that he spoke again.

"We have to move out of here. I hate it, " he said in a constricted voice. He was obviously close to tears, and that made Larson feel an unwanted anxiety in the pit of his stomach, but Largo took a deep breath and continued. "I think we have enough saved up. We can travel to Port Shau and sail wherever they're goin'—the farther the better."

"Calm down, " Larson said and sat next to him.

While they looked at each other, the others in the warrens, which weren't many as it was still working hours, leered at them with blank looks and slacked jaws.

"I'm done, " Largo heaved.

"Done?"

"With everythin'. I think I like the idea of being travelin' warriors, but not here. Maybe in some other country, eh?"

"So, we're just up and moving?" Larson was astonished. "Just like that?"

"Looks that way…I mean…if you want to come with me."

The younger Ross looked away and shook his head in disbelief. He certainly had no attachment to either the warehouse or Pallisade.

"Sure…why not, right?" Larson feigned a smile.

Largo patted his brother's shoulder then claimed he needed a drink at Barry's Bar, which was the working man's tavern between the warrens and the construction warehouse. He instructed his brother to get everything ready and have a rest because he was coming in an hour or so with an actual plan. Larson shrugged and let his brother be.

While Largo left, and Larson packed what little they owned, he wondered about Sarabelle, Largo's new girlfriend. She coming with us, or is he just leaving her? It didn't matter to Larson one way or the other; in fact, he figured an extra body might mean the three of them had a better chance of finding work and a home wherever they were going to wind up. As promised, Largo returned an hour later, but he wasn't angry anymore, or drunk even; he seemed tired, practically defeated.

"What's wrong?"

"I was speakin' to Barry about our plans, " Largo said, but trailed off. Larson motioned with a nod of his head and the raising of his brow for his brother to continue. "He says that a trip by carriage to Port Shau is at least ten silver pieces. That alone is more than we have, and a ship ride out of Shau is easily five gold pieces."

Larson undid his ponytail and readjusted it before saying, "Well, we can walk to Shau."

"It'll take us a week, " Largo interrupted.

"So, it takes a week…. We can settle down for a bit in Shau before figuring our next move…maybe we can even find information about Dad there."

Largo shook his head in desperation, saying, "You've got to give up on Da', Larson. He's gone, vanished without a trace. We asked everyone in Half Pine and plenty of people here."

"Not everyone here, " Larson argued. "And no one in Port Shau."

After a moment, Largo agreed that asking the people in Shau was reasonable. The older brother then gave a halfhearted smile.

"Listen, " he said, placing his arm around Larson's shoulder. "I think it would be best if you stayed here and kept workin'."

"What?"

"Just listen a moment, meat head, " he joked. "I'll travel on to Shau and start workin' there. When I have some kind of a plan in place, I'll send for ya'. I'm sure it won't take more than a month. I'll get the scoop in Shau, and learn about trade routes or somethin', and when I've got an in, I'll send for you, and we'll know our next move. Trust me. Besides, I'll need you to talk down Sarabelle…if I know her, she'll be mad like the daemons of Harad over my disappearance, and there's no way she's comin' with us on account of her sick ma'."

There was a long silence. Larson had never been alone. He expressed his feeling of inadequacy; that he was certainly brave enough to fight reapers, but not wise enough to survive without his brother's advice for an entire month.

"You've got to trust yourself, Larson, " Largo conciliated. "That second guessin' and worryin's got a place in a man's life. Jumpin' in the fire like an arsehole's only goin' to get you so far, hear, so worry and fret, but keep your wits about, and don't second guess yourself when it comes time for big decisions."

At the end of that night Largo expressed his love and admiration for his brother, nabbed his belongings, and started walking out of Pallisade. The city had a few walls in place, surrounding the exterior, where atop them the soldiers marched around too drunk to pay any real attention to the perimeter. Under twinkling stars, and a scant, few, wispy clouds, the brothers trudged out in silence. By the road heading southeast, Largo hugged his brother, handed him their father's short sword, and told him to wait patiently, to immerse himself in wine, work, and women. Larson watched his brother's figure slowly wander off until he was swallowed up by the darkness.