“Even a cow should have enough sense not to fall in a hole!” Kamun yelled down into the thin ravine. The cow was terrified, the fall had been hard and the group of men that had gathered to rope her and pull her out was adding to her fear.
Kamun continued to yell. The cow would avoid the ropes and fight with anyone they tried to lower down to tie them off. Saverous sat away from the men, he couldn't help now, but they would need him when they were ready to pull her out.
Kamun's young daughter had been staring at Saverous all morning. She was all of six years old and the sight of a man over 9 foot tall, with dark gray skin covered with rust colored tattoos was something she wasn't used to. The tattoos weren't anything she recognized, no pictures of anything from this world, just glyphs and symbols. But even a six year could tell that they were evil. Saverous tried to cover the ones on his arms with his shirt.
With her father's attention fully on the cow she slipped over, pretending to gather some of the small flowers that were growing at the ravines edge. She came close enough that she could talk to Saverous without her father hearing, but stayed out of his arms reach. She was curious, but still scared.
“Are you a man?” she asked. The question took Saveorus by surprise. He was used to being asked where the tattoos came from, or why he was so tall. This question was much more direct.
“I am a man, but I am definitely not from around here.” Saverous answered, and she rewarded him with a small smile.
“I'm from the Pilgante hills, where they call my people the Doviello, or the Tusk Hillsman. Have you ever heard of the Tusk Hillsman?” She shook her head no.
He went on to tell her about the family nature of his tribes, how they were all much larger then the Bannor and known for being good hunters. He didn't tell her what were even more renown for, their skill as warriors.
The Doviello carry crude weapons into battle, a throwing rock bigger than a man’s head or a stout branch. They use these makeshift weapons because they are temporary. The first opponent killed became the weapon of choice. Grabbed by the ankles they would be swung like a meaty flail. Blood sprayed over opponents and every swing would lose more and more of the corpse until another was needed to replace the first. At this point in the battle the “weapons” were always readily available. Occasionally an opponent would be grabbed while still alive. The effect of being beaten by a bloody body that was screaming at you while it happened is traumatizing to even the most hardened warrior. Few armies were willing to face even a few hundred Doviello.
But instead the giant man and the girl talked about the wild Yak that roamed the Pilgante hills, the flowers and birds. He told her about the games the Doviello children played. She smiled, laughed and told him about the games she is going to play with her new baby sister, when she is older.
Kamun looked over and seemed to be about to warn his daughter away. The concern flashed briefly across his face but he fought it back, seeing her smiling and his face softened.
“Are you ready to put those tree sized arms to work?”
Saverous replied that he was, told the girl he had to work and walked over to the ravine. They had tied two ropes around the trapped cow. Kamun and Saverous grabbed the one tied just behind the cows front legs. Four other men took the rope tied just before the cows back legs.
Kamun made sure everyone was ready and they pulled, straining to lift the cow out of the narrow ravine. The cow was heavy and being lifted scared her even more than falling into the ravine. She began kicking and trying to get loose of the ropes. She couldn’t, but her movement made it even harder to pull her out. Tephus, a boy barely 16, was at the front of the rear rope and reached into the ravine to continue pulling. Just as he got his grip the cow bucked madly, sending the back rope slack and then yanking it back. The jerk sent Tephus staggering forward and into the ravine. He smacked right into the cow, eliciting another buck and a deep howl from the frightened beast. The ravine was so narrow that he barely had room to fall by her but he slipped by and slid down to the V shaped ravine floor.
The cows bucking became even more aggressive and with Tephus's help gone the three men began to lose their grip on the back rope. The cow’s hind quarters dropped toward the trapped Tephus. He screamed as one of the cow’s hooves kicked the arm he held protectively in front of him.
Saverous looked around for anything that could help. Kamun's terrified daughter stood wide eyed, witness to what was going on. There was no one else.
“Kamun, help them!” Saverous shouted, signaling for him to switch to the back rope. He let go of the front rope and Saverous strained to hold it on his own. Grabbing the back rope the tug of war stopped, the cow stopped moving either up or down although she continued to kick and flail wildly. Tephus's yells weren't cries of pain, he had learned to lay flat on the ravine floor to avoid the dangling cow held just inches above him, but pleas for to get him out of there, and not drop the cow.
Saverous wrapped the ropes around his arms, ready to pull but then realized the real trouble they were in. The effort in stopping the cow from dropping had drained the men on the back rope. All four of them looked back, their arms already trembling from the effort of maintaining the cow where it was. The silent message was that they wouldn't be able to do this, they would have to drop the cow.
This is where stories talk about people summoning some great strength within themselves. They tried, Tephus's terrified calls urging them on. They all pulled with everything they had. The cow bucked, ropes dug into their flesh, burnt through the thick leather gloves they wore and nothing changed. Saverous was covered with sweat and even his muscles were beginning to spasm uncontrollably.
Saverous turned away from the ravine, putting the rope over his shoulder and digging into the ground. He felt a slight movement, the rope had budged. He looked up to see Kamun's daughter staring at him. She was more terrified of Saverous than what was happening. He closed his eyes, he couldn't worry about that now. And Saverous pulled against the rope. There was a burning across his back and out into his arms. It went beyond the pain of a muscle pushed past its limit, it was the fire of magic. His runes flared and Saverous heard a gasp from the cow as he heaved forward. Unnatural light danced on his skin and the four farmers on the back rope would have dropped the cow and fled if Tephus wasn't trapped beneath it.
The cows front was dragged up and over the edge of the ravine as Saverous pulled forward. The back followed and Saverous collapsed exhausted in the grass and flowers. The runes flickered, paled like coal taken out of the forge and went dark.
