Jax was led to the deepest section of the semi-subterranean earth-lodge...
The brute barked an order at the other thugs to guard the entrance flap, then kicked a pile of furs into the corner to make room around the fire pit.
These hidden dugouts were usually used by the neutral traders to hide stolen goods or arrange illicit deals away from the eyes of the high chieftains, but the environment was incredibly vile.
Jax, however, had survived in much worse conditions before Frodo took him in.
He sat on a mammoth skull acting as a stool, waiting for the brute to speak.
"You disappeared for quite a few moons," the brute grunted, flashing a grin that revealed several missing teeth. "Since the River Clans were shattered and scattered to the wind, you never once showed your face at the fighting pits. Even if you don’t run with us anymore, you could have still shared a skin of fermented berry-wine with your old brothers, right?"
His name was Broken-Tooth.
He was the undisputed enforcer of the ’Bone-Scrapers’ a sprawling network of scavengers, thieves, and beggars who plagued the edges of the neutral trading camps.
The Bone-Scrapers survived by picking the meat off abandoned carcasses and trading whispered secrets to whichever warlord or chieftain offered the most fat.
But unlike a loyal hunting hound, these scavengers had no honor...
They would spy for Kael’s Blood-Walkers today and betray them to the Salt-Gatherers tomorrow, so long as their bellies were full.
"Save your breath," Jax said bluntly. "Tonight, you will gather Weasel, Mud-Eye, Flint, and little Mouse in this lodge. I have a task that needs to be handled immediately."
"Just those four?" Broken-Tooth raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Will that be enough for this deal of yours?"
"I said this is a monumental opportunity," Jax shrugged, keeping his hand resting near his dagger. "I came looking for you because your Bone-Scrapers have ears in every corner of this freezing gorge."
According to the unwritten laws of the Ice Age underworld, dealing with scavengers required speaking to a pack-leader first.
The leader determined if the risk was worth the calories, and then assigned the task to his quickest runners, taking the largest cut of the meat for himself.
Of course, in this brutal era, there were no written contracts...
If a scavenger took the meat and ran, or simply failed the task, the only recourse was a slit throat in the dark.
Before Frodo had elevated Jax to the elite Reconnaissance team, the young teenager had survived entirely by running messages and stealing scraps for these very same rats.
Because of this, Jax knew exactly which packs were the most influential in the eastern gorge, allowing him to entirely skip the dangerous process of finding a trustworthy contact.
He chose the Bone-Scrapers because, while entirely greedy, they weren’t as bloodthirsty as the cannibal packs deeper in the woods.
"Can I ask you, whose totem do you wear now, little shadow?" Broken-Tooth asked, his eyes darting to the furs Jax wore beneath his outer cloak. "You look incredibly well-fed for a dead boy."
Jax didn’t give him a direct answer. Instead, he pointed his thumb back toward the west, in the general direction of the Mammoth Mountain.
After the River Clans fell, most of the scavengers assumed Jax had either frozen to death or been dragged into Kael’s slave pits.
By pointing west, Broken-Tooth would naturally assume Jax had found a wealthy neutral chieftain or a crazy mountain spirit to serve. Jax hadn’t lied; Frodo was the Lord of the West. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping . com.
"I see," Broken-Tooth nodded slowly. "But Weasel and Mud-Eye are gone. Can I pick my own runners for this?"
"What happened to them?" Jax asked.
"Dead," Broken-Tooth spat into the fire. "Before the first snow, a skirmish broke out with the Red-Paw pack. They found a frozen elk carcass near the northern ridge, and Weasel tried to claim it. During the brawl, Weasel took a flint spear to the throat. Mud-Eye was pushed into the freezing rapids and swept under the ice."
Jax frowned slightly.
In the brutal hierarchy of the trading camps, the neutral guards would often deliberately let the scavenger packs slaughter each other over scraps just to keep their numbers low and manageable.
A dead thief meant one less mouth stealing from the caches.
"That is fine," Jax said dismissively. "But remember, whoever you pick must know how to whisper to the refugees without drawing Kael’s scouts."
...
Jax took a deep breath after pushing his way out of the earth-lodge.
The sstench of the Bone-Scrapers’ den made him want to vomit.
Only when his lungs were filled with the winter wind was he able to dispel the dark feeling of his past life.
Although Broken-Tooth had invited him to wait by the fire and share a piece of rotting marrow, Jax had no intention of staying in that claustrophobic pit for too long.
If a fight broke out, or if Kael’s men suddenly raided the camp, he would be trapped underground.
Instead, Jax decided to wait in the shadows of the high ice-cliffs, watching the chaotic movement of the neutral traders.
As for the ten spearmen he had left in the pine forest, they were Tor’s elite hunters.
They were more than capable of surviving a freezing night without lighting a fire, so he didn’t need to worry about them breaking cover...
When the moon finally crested the jagged peaks of the gorge, Jax returned to the earth-lodge.
At this hour, the lodge was filled with shadows and hushed whispers.
Dozens of scavengers huddled around small smoke-holes, trading stolen goods.
Jax navigated the chaotic bodies and found Broken-Tooth sitting near the back wall.
On the dirt in front of him lay a polished bear skull... the marker of his pack.
When Jax walked over, a filthy youth scrambled out of the way to offer him a seat on the furs.
"Let me introduce the replacements," Broken-Tooth grunted, tossing a bone aside. "You know Flint and Mouse. But this one is Varn. He only recently joined the Bone-Scrapers after the River Clans burned."
"Varn?" Jax’s eyes stopped on the gaunt man sitting opposite Mouse. Varn offered a slow, incredibly sparse nod of greeting.
"In our line of survival, there are very few who willingly trade a hunter’s spear for a scavenger’s knife," Broken-Tooth laughed. "He used to be a master spearman of the River Clans. But Kael’s elites slaughtered his wife, and the warlord took his sons to the slave pits. He traded his weapons for fermented berries to drown his grief, and now he scrapes the bones with us."
Flint and Mouse were typical street rats. But Varn... Jax felt a strange, lingering chill as he looked at the broken warrior.
His face was gaunt, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Yet, hidden deep within the man’s hollow eyes was a dormant spark that Jax couldn’t quite grasp.
It was like staring at a buried ember in a pile of ash.
*Whatever,* Jax thought, dismissing the feeling. *He used to be a warrior, so he knows how to follow orders. Besides, my only task is to manipulate the refugees into the forest. There is no combat risk involved.*
"Listen closely. The hunt you have to perform tonight is not complicated," Jax began, lowering his voice. "The high chieftains of the neutral caravans do not want to see the starving refugees continue to multiply at the edge of the gorge. The meat caches are running low. If the hunger spreads, it is only a matter of time before the refugees form a desperate mob and riot, making it much harder for the caravans to leave peacefully. Because of this, my Lord has devised a way to lure them away from the gorge."
"What do you need us to do?" Broken-Tooth asked.
"It is very simple. You will walk among the starving refugees tonight, and you will whisper a rumor into their ears," Jax explained. "Tell them that the Lord of the Mammoth Mountain is reclaiming the western valleys. Tell them he is accepting all refugees... the weak, the sick, and the young. Tell them there are warm caves and endless meat, and an armed escort is waiting in the western pine forest to guide them there."
Jax leaned forward. "You only need to spread this message among the fools outside the camp. Feel free to add whatever glorious details you want. The more desperate and attractive you make the mountain sound, the better."
"But..." Flint hesitated, looking nervous. "If the freezing refugees march out into the western pines tonight, and the armed escort isn’t there, they will realize it’s a lie. Spreading false hope like that will cause a panic."
"Of course the escort will be there," Jax smiled.
"Ah?" Flint looked startled. "Is it really true that a Western Lord wants to take thousands of starving weaklings?"
"You absolute fool," Broken-Tooth barked a laugh, slapping the back of Flint’s head so hard the boy almost fell into the fire. "If you want to play a trick on starving animals, you have to commit to it! Once those refugees march out into the deep western snowdrifts looking for this phantom escort, do you really believe they will have the strength to walk back to the gorge? As for how they die in the snow, let the Western Lord get a headache about the rotting corpses!"
Broken-Tooth looked back at Jax with a sinister grin. "This is indeed a very simple task. No blood, just whispers. But the reward..."
Jax reached into his cloak. He didn’t raise two fingers; instead, he pulled out a premium slab of pure mammoth fat and dropped it onto the bear skull.
Then, he flashed Orok’s green stone token in his palm.
"Twice the usual fat," Jax said, watching their eyes widen at the wealth. "My new Lord possesses endless meat. He does not care about the cost, unlike the stingy caravan guards. He only wants to see the gorge emptied of refugees by tomorrow morning." Jax smiled.
"Didn’t I tell you this was a monumental opportunity?"