Hamerber Dreadlok

I don't take adventurers into the Wastes. They're all fools, every one of them, and while the world would be better off without them, she won't take them out on my watch.
Besides, she might miss.

— Hamerber Dreadlok

The Right Stuff

by Terry Cassis using Imagine AI

It might be the piercing grey eyes or the deep wrinkles on his leathery face. Perhaps it's the chapped lips from the cold or the grey beard nestled in the snug warmth of his fur lined hooded coat. Maybe it's the flinching twitch of his right eyelid when he hears the tone of your voice change when you disembark and discover this ice filled place has only fur covered temporary structures to protect from the bitter cold.
Whatever it is, he sees right through you. He can tell within moments if you're made of the right stuff. The stuff that stays aware. That listens and remembers. That acts instantly when threatened.
The stuff that might keep you alive in the Northern Wastes.
He doesn't say much, at least not directly to people. He writes though, words on a page, painting the only picture most of us will ever see of the beauty and wildness of a tortured place that kills faster than a thought. He is one of the few who knows this place. Well, knows is an ambiguous word. But he's gone into the heart of the maelstorm almost twenty times now and returned alive. He's made of the right stuff.
And that, of course, is why you're here.

Sigurd's Craw

Hamerber Dreadlok sat back from the short table that was covered with a spread of meat and hot tea. He examined the apparently younger man in front of him who returned his look confidently, but with an air of questioning.
"Orion, is it? And why exactly do you think you need to reach Cairne? That's no casual trip, it's a long way into the Wastes," he asked.
"There's something I need to retrieve," Orion replied evasively.
The old man shook his head decisively. "You're just an adventurer, and I don't take adventurers into the Wastes. They're all fools, every one of them, and while the world would be better off without them, she won't take them out on my watch." He paused. "Besides, she might miss."
"You've been there yourself. Doesn't that make you an adventurer?" Orion asked with amusement.
Hamerber laughed then put his finger to his lips in a hushing guesture then leaned forward and pointed at the man. His voice dropped theatrically. "Don't say that too loud. They might hear you."
The young elven woman with Orion made a quick motion with her hands to him, and he nodded slightly.
"Who is they?" he asked the old man.
"You know, or you wouldn't have come for me. The leys. The ones the old fools got riled up at the Cataclysm. There's danger in the predators, but there are predators everywhere. It's the leys, the magic, that makes this place so deadly. Draw their attention they'll kill you. No mercy, no thought. The only ones that will even give you a chance are the waterley and the fireley."
Orion nodded. "I know enough to know that I don't know enough. To know I need you Hamerber. I have to ask again. Will you guide us to Cairne and back?"
The old man shook his head. "We would have to cross the territories of two silver dragons and a pack of Hartz lehoiak to get there. And Cairne is overrun with Izotz-harrak. Do you even know what you're looking for and where it is?"
"It's in the reliquary," Orion replied.
"You've lost your mind. Find yourself another guide to indulge your death wish. No one goes into a reliquary and comes out alive."
"I have." Orion reached to his sides and unsheathed the two short handled cleavers from their sheaths, then laid them on the table in front of him. "When I retrieved these."
The spines of the ugly butcher knives glowed, and ancient faded runes rose to visibility from within the steel.
"You're the Butcher?" Hamerber asked in startled amazement. Thoughts raced visibly across his face. His eyes narrowed distrustfully. "If you can enter and leave a reliquary, why do you need me?"
"This is too dangerous to go alone. The cold is bitter and persistent - I can't just get in and out of it quickly here - it takes skills and knowledge I don't have to adapt to it. I won't go into the land of the Izotz-harrak without companions. Jewel is smart and strong and competent enough to stay alive under almost any set of circumstances, but the Wastes are different, and I can't leave my protégé alone while I traverse the portal. We need a guide who can get us there, then stay alive and keep her from dying while you wait for me to get what I need and get out."
Hamerber considered, then shook his head. "Butcher or no, I don't do adventurers."
"I'm not on an adventure. I'm on a mission and I need to get to Cairne in the next month. I need you. You're the only one who can get us there."
Hamerber shrugged. "Means nothing to me. And don't bother offering me money; that doesn't mean anything to me either. Money doesn't spend when you're dead, even if I wanted anything it could buy me, which I don't."
Frustration finally landed on Orion's face. "What's the problem? You go into the Wastes all the time. You practically live there. Why would you -"
Quick as a bullwhip the old man's hand lashed out at the younger man's chest - and stopped abruptly, trapped mere inches from his body in Orion's iron grip.
"Who sent you? What is this really about?" Hamerber asked, his eyes fixed on the other man's face, both men fighting silently through the motionless fist.
Orion leaned forward and whispered something unintelligible in his ear.
The old man sat back, pulling his fist back to his side. "What would he..? Why...?"
"The Sheildbearer has been killed. The eldritch are coming."
The startled look on Hamerber's face gave way to consternation, then resignation. He looked over at the younger man then replied in a very serious business-like tone.
"All right. I'll take you, under conditions. This is going to cost you, and I don't want to hear any whining about it. You have to do everything I say instantly - Your lives depend on it. I am always the authority, no arguing, no second guessing. No magic of any kind - keep those ugly knives of yours sheathed." He shot a look at the elven woman. "No passives, no spells, no charms. None. It angers the leys. Now, we have preparations to make. Three days, that's as fast as we can be ready. We have to get sleds packed and the dogs and reindeer ready. I'll need to see all your gear, both of you. Understand?"
Orion and Jewel nodded.
"You both seem fit and intelligent enough. No promises, but we might make it back alive."
Suddenly Hamerber threw back his head and laughed broadly, his eyes crinkled and glowing with excitement, "but even if we don't, this is going to be one hell of a trip!"

How Did we Get Here?

And Then What Happened?