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DargonZine Volume 23 Issue 04
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 23
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 4
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DargonZine Distributed: 2/12/11
Volume 23 Number 4 Circulation: 654
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Contents
Editorial Jon Evans
Hubris D'Artagnon Wells Mertz 16-18, 1019
The Far Patrol Liam Donahue Ober 14-17,1018
========================================================================
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of The Dargon Project, Inc.,
a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
Please address all correspondence to <dargon@dargonzine.org> or visit
us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/, or our FTP site
at ftp://ftp.dargonzine.org/. Issues and public discussions are posted
to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
DargonZine 23-4, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright 12 February, 2011 by
The Dargon Project, Inc. Editor: Jon Evans <thegodling@verizon.net>,
Assistant Editor: John White <john.white@DREXEL.EDU>.
DargonZine is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs-
NonCommercial License. This license allows you to make and distribute
unaltered copies of DargonZine, complete with the original attributions
of authorship, so long as it is not used for commercial purposes.
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
To view a detailed copy of this license, please visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0 or send a letter to
Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford CA, 94305 USA.
========================================================================
Editorial
by Jon Evans
thegodling@verizon.net
Welcome back, readers! It's a new year, 2011. And this year,
I want to start by talking about leadership, specifically the leadership
of this Project. No, I'm not talking about me. As the Editor, my job
is quite simple -- I arbitrate over any issues that arise, and I help
determine which stories go in the print queue, although I haven't had
to perform the latter task since I took the helm: Liam Donahue is the
official assembler of this periodical, so he does most of the work.
I write the occasional editorial, and generally only just in time.
No, the leadership I want to talk about is not a figurehead, like
myself, but those who actually lead by doing. The aforementioned Liam,
who for years has taken on the task of assembling and publishing our
zine, is just such an example. He was also Editor for a couple of years,
and by rights holds more authority than I do. He picks the stories,
formats the issues, and tries to get me to write the editorial on time.
He also double-checks all the material, and rallies the troops. He's the
current bedrock upon which DargonZine rests. (Ornoth Liscomb, who
founded FSFNet and helped create DargonZine, is the previous bedrock.)
Another author who shows great leadership for this project is
Victor Cardoso. Vic is a visionary for new ideas and designs, and helped
initiate the new face of DargonZine. He is also pushing for movement
into new technology for easing the production side, as well as reaching
out to new authors. His latest drive is helping spur the authors with an
internal writing challenge, and we will be announcing an external
writing challenge in the near future as well. All because of Vic.
Jim Owens. Now there's a man who also shows leadership. Jim is an
integral part of the zine who helped found the mentor program, welcomes
in new authors, and always tries to push the bounds of how we operate.
This occasionally causes friction, but friction is good. It opens us to
new possibilities. And Jim is always thinking about new possibilities.
The last author I want to put up on a leadership pedestal is
probably the first one who will laugh when he sees his name: John
"Dafydd" White. It's very simple: Dafydd leads by doing. He is possibly
the deepest-thinking author on the project, creating some of the most
intricate stories and characters. He brings a level mind and
well-thought argument to every issue we raise, and he does exactly what
we need: he writes. He currently has seven stories in the editing queue,
and there are more coming. We've joked in the past about renaming
ourselves "Dafydd-zine" because his content kept us publishing issues.
These four members are the real leaders of DargonZine, and I want
to recognize them here, and thank them publicly, for all that they bring
to our community. Without them, we probably would not be here today.
As for this issue, we have two new stories for you. D'Artagnon
Wells continues his Kiev series with Hubris. It's a must-read. And Liam
graces our pages once again with The Far Patrol, an excellent adventure
on the outskirts of Dargon.
Enjoy! -Jon
========================================================================
Hubris
by D'Artagnon Wells
dartagnonwells@gmail.com
Mertz 16-18, 1019
Tanbry Cortinas walked across the yard outside the retired stables
being used by the Esoterics as their base of operations and living
quarters. The morning was fresh and carried an excited energy on the
northern wind coming in from the Valenfaer Ocean.
Dyann Taishent, Dargon's preeminent mage, was walking with haste
the opposite side of the courtyard to meet her.
"My dear Tanbry, are you alright? Kalen sent a guard to my house
this morning and told me you had returned to Dargon strapped to your
saddle and near death." Dyann wrapped his tender arms around the young
mage.
Tanbry returned the embrace. "Gross exaggerations, Dyann. Where is
the lieutenant?"
"He's gone off to see to your brothers and the contingent of guard.
What happened?" The mage took Tanbry's arm in his and escorted her back
toward the Guard House.
"It's all a bit hazy, but Kiev escaped. I remember he tried talking
to me. I think it was him who tied me to the horse. What do you know
about Kiev?"
"Just what I've told you before: a powerful, violent mage. Every
time he's been in Dargon, a storm cloud of violence darkens the city."
"Why didn't you tell us he's Kalen's cousin?"
Dyann was silent for a moment. Tanbry was unsure if he was ignoring
the question.
"Would knowing that stop you from doing what needed to be done?"
Dyann asked at length.
"I think it would have directed us to act differently had we
known."
"Family ties in this situation have no bearing on what Kiev has
done or his fate."
"You're a liar," Tanbry replied. Her voice was gentle and without
malice.
"Excuse me?"
"If I had to hunt down either of my brothers, family ties would
change everything. If it was your son or grandson you had to hunt down
and haul back, your ties would alter the hunting ground, your methods,"
Tanbry explained. "Family ties play a large role here."
Dyann was silent once more.
"Perhaps you're right." The elder mage conceded.
"I think that ... I think Kiev's actions were justified."
"One more remark from you may just send me to the asylum."
"We questioned him. Vable didn't want to, but Arvyn and I are
academics, we need to know everything. Kiev had a very compelling facet
to the situations he was in and I feel he has a good, strong case to
take before the duke."
"For whatever his reasons or circumstances, he still killed those
people. The law needs to be satisfied, as do the families who suffered
the loss of their loved ones."
"Do you even know what happened?"
"Perhaps you should tell me." Dyann sat on the stone and wood bench
in the courtyard. Tanbry joined him, pouring out the events of her
journey.
Kiev and Jaxon finally stopped their marathon through Baranur late
in the afternoon putting much-needed leagues between them and the Dargon
Guard. Their journey took them to the coast south of Dargon and off the
beaten path, eventually making camp at the base of a small embankment.
Jaxon was laughing riotously, roasting a skinned rabbit over the fire.
"When do you think they'll wake up?" he asked.
Kiev was laughing slightly at the memory of what they had done to
the guards when he had escaped.
"They probably already have. I kind of wish I could be there to see
their faces when they do," Kiev admitted.
"I'd like to be there when they stroll into Dargon." The two
companions burst out even louder at the thought of Vable and his men
walking stark naked into Dargon and explaining what happened.
"Hey, do you hear that?" Jaxon asked, sobering quickly and
listening.
"What?" Kiev was still snickering and laid back against the bank of
earth they had stopped by.
"It sounds like a horse coming up the path." Jaxon started to climb
the embankment.
"Don't let that rabbit burn."
"You don't hear that?" Jaxon was standing at the top of the mound
searching the trees. He let out a grunt then toppled back down, rolling
through the fire.
"Jaxon!" Kiev grabbed him, pulling him from the fire quickly. There
was a gash on his forehead bleeding into his eyes.
"Jaxon, wake up!" He was non-responsive. Kiev turned to head up the
embankment when he saw Vable flying down at him.
"Where is she?" he screamed. Vable tackled Kiev, bearing him to the
ground.
Kiev slammed a fist into the dirt, calling forth a small pillar of
earth that collided with Vable's face, sending the angry man to the
side. Kiev stood and brought his maces to bear. Vable took the hit in
stride, rolled to his feet and set his batons in front of him
defensively.
"I guess you're here to arrest me. Right?" Kiev snickered.
"Where is my sister?"
"Who?"
"Tell me!"
"Well, I don't have her. I mean," he looked at Vable with a
sinister, lustful eye, "I *had* her -- *we* had her -- of course, but
not any more." His smile peaked at his ears and he brought his tongue
slowly across the edge of his top teeth.
"Bastard!" Vable came in, leading with his batons.
"Wait, I give up. Please, arrest me and take me back to Dargon,"
Kiev laughed, parrying the vicious onslaught Vable was delivering.
"I will kill you! Tell me where she is!" Vable spun around, his
left hand bearing the baton toward Kiev's head.
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you, but you won't believe me." Kiev blocked
the attempt and sidestepped Vable's follow-up jab.
"Where?" Vable kicked at the taunting mage.
"After I was done with her, I couldn't take her with me." Kiev's
smile was noxious even though he was sorely pressed by Vable's fury.
Kiev was fast, but his maces were heavier than the ebony batons and that
gave Vable an advantage.
"Where!"
"Dargon," Kiev laughed.
"Liar! What have you done with her?"
"Really. Stop, stop now," Kiev retreated a few steps, feigning
submission. Vable paused his attack. "I sent her to Dargon."
"Really? You sent her on to Dargon?" Vable's fury subsided
slightly.
Kiev snickered again, sending another wicked grin across his face
and Vable into another fury.
Vable was done fighting with his batons. He opened his mind to the
boulder next to him, feeling the hum of the universe siphoning through
it and his body. The boulder cracked into smaller, jagged pieces the
size of a man's head.
Kiev took note of what was about to happen.
"So be it," Kiev whispered. He slipped his thumb into his belt on
the small ruby mounted there. The attributes of the hard mineral washed
over him as the first missile made to collide with his face. He brought
both maces to the granite as he spun to the side, shattering it into
rubble. He spun, ducked and leapt over the missiles as they came angrily
from Vable. The last of rocks sent Kiev to a defensive crouch with his
back exposed to Vable.
Dreading his position in relation to Vable, Kiev spun back around
to face him. The rooted stump of a fallen tree hit him in the chest,
embedding him into the bank now lined with the boulder fragments. Kiev's
exposed hand faded back into flesh, the ruby tune receding.
Part of the embankment collapsed in on Kiev burying him completely.
Vable could feel pieces of his essence shredding away as the energy he
funneled passed away back into the living world around him.
Vable fell to his knees overwhelmed by the buzzing pain in his head
and the fear of his father's fate grasping his soul. The raw energy he
manipulated ripped through his body eroding away his mind. The time at
the docks with the crab was a mere whisper when compared to what he had
just done.
The buzzing increased, dementia took a firm root into the crevices
of the mage's hyper-extended mind and everything that was Vable in a
mental sense was shattered.
Dark madness enveloped the mage while his consciousness spun out
into the aether. Decades, sennights, menes rushed past him when a faint
light eventually appeared. It called out to him inspiring the shards of
his soul to regroup and reassemble fitting together as best they could
under the stress of being on the edge of oblivion.
Finally the forest came back to Vable as Vable came back to
himself. His eyes landed on the pile of tree and earth that buried Kiev
without initial comprehension what he was looking at but an irritating
hint that it had some profound importance danced on his mind.
As he became more aware, realization of his actions knitted his
brain together. He was physically exhausted, and felt hollow, from the
arcane exertion combined with the guilt of Kiev's death.
More than that, Kiev had been right and that truth stung more than
the degrading mental condition and the blood on his hands.
Kalen and his men had just found the trail where Kiev and Vable had
veered from the path. The sun had passed its zenith and was bearing its
spiteful heat on the weary group. About a bell had passed when they
happened upon Vable riding the recovered horse. He was dragging Jaxon,
tied up and gagged, a few cubits behind him along with the other horses.
"Where's Kiev and who is this?" Kalen asked.
"This is Kiev's traveling companion, he helped him escape. Kiev is
..." Vable trailed off.
"Is what?"
"I killed him."
"You what?" Kalen asked, shocked.
"He had ... done things to my sister and fought me. The situation
escalated."
"Tanbry didn't tell me anything about this. What had he done to
her?"
"Tanbry told you? Where is she?"
"Dargon. She rode in early this morning; it's why I'm out here.
What did he say he did to her?"
"He said, I mean it was the way he -- he led me to believe he had
violated her."
"He goaded you into a fight, you mean."
"Yes."
"Take me to his body."
They quickly made it back to the scene of the fight, Vable walking
them through what had happened.
"You will answer for this. I expect more from my men, especially
one in an already precarious situation. What do you think this has done
for the Esoterics?"
"Lieutenant --"
"We took you on as a resource for the rare circumstances involving
magic, not as a troupe of vigilantes. We had this very conversation
before I sent you to Armand to retrieve him. Is your memory that dull?"
"This was self defense," Vable responded weakly.
"This," Kalen pointed at the large tree embedded into the bank, "is
a fair bit more than self defense." He turned to his men.
"You three, take the extra horse and stay here. See if you can dig
out the body. I'll need that for the duke. Get the lad on a horse and
ensure his binds are tight. We ride for Dargon. Mount up."
Arvyn and the others had been given the sparest of clothing and
were sent back to Dargon on foot. The sun was about to dip below the
western horizon when they finally made it back to the city. They had
trickled into the city in small groups. Those that could, made their way
to their proper homes or homes of their kin to get clothes and food
before heading to the Old Guard House. Arvyn and one other weren't so
fortunate and had to walk through the city clear to the Old Guard House
with naught but a shirt wrapped around his waist.
Tanbry was at her desk, putting the last of her writing supplies
away under the last of the dusk light when Arvyn crossed into the
stable.
"It feels good to finally be home, such as it is," Arvyn sighed.
Tanbry stood and hugged her brother. "I'm so glad you're back. Are
you okay? What happened? Where's Vable?" She pulled back from him. "Why
are you naked?"
"Whoa, settle. All in due time, like after I get dressed, fed and
in bed. I've never been this tired in my life."
"Where is Vable?" Tanbry asked, more concerned.
"He went after Kiev."
"After everything --"
"He thought he had taken you," Arvyn explained.
It dawned on Tanbry then. "Kiev was right."
"Let us hope not. Kiev might be a good fighter, but Vable is ...
well, he's Vable. His hubris runs deep."
Colton Swilman was standing a distance away from the tree that
buried the mage. They had spent the better part of the afternoon
removing the rocks that pinned the tree and were now trying to pull it
free with the team of horses.
"Roan, get those horses moving!"
Roan was coaxing the horses forward with a few shouts and a
well-placed sapling. The tree scraped the ground, finally breaking free,
which sent more dirt and rocks to fill the void. The team pulled it out
a ways when Colton called them to stop.
"Good. Get the horses off the tree then get over here and help us
dig."
"Gong of a thing," Trent, the other guard left behind, commented.
"What I wouldn't give for a spade."
"Straight," Colton agreed. "Well, let's get to it. We'll lose our
light soon."
They turned in unison toward the mound of earth and found Kiev
standing there, dirty, busted and bleeding. Colton and Trent drew their
swords only to be buffeted in a maelstrom of dirt, rocks and maces.
Kalen and the others rode in late the following afternoon. With a
scornful, disappointed eye he dismissed Vable to the old stables.
Tanbry, Arvyn and Dyann were there, waiting eagerly for him to return.
He embraced Tanbry first and intensely.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered.
Tanbry pulled back. "What did you do?"
Vable avoided her gaze, kept his eyes to the ground.
"Kiev is no longer a threat."
"What did you do?" Tanbry knew in her heart what Vable had done,
but wanted, needed, to hear it from Vable.
"Kiev is dead." Vable found his resolve once more and looked his
sister in the eyes. "I killed him."
Tanbry's eyes squinted with spite. She slapped her brother twice
then walked resolutely back inside the stables.
"It doesn't matter too much now," Arvyn started, "but you should
know that Tanbry took Kiev's case to the duke."
"Is that so?" Vable was still staring after his sister.
"He issued an order for Kiev's release. It was hard pressed, but
the testimony of that girl, Rynn, sealed it."
"You're right. It doesn't matter." Vable walked toward the stables.
"What happened out there?"
"Nothing."
Arvyn caught up to his brother. "Stop. Look at me." The brothers
locked stares and Arvyn could tell right away the light was diminished
in Vable's eyes. "You did it again, didn't you?"
"The situation escalated," Vable muttered.
"The situation always escalates. Piss, Vable! You saw what happened
to dad and you aren't half the mage he was."
"I've already killed one man, you want to make it two?" Vable
fingered his batons.
"That's not ok." Arvyn glared at his brother, unfazed by the
comment.
"I'm sorry," Vable sighed. He shook his head coming back to the
moment.
"That's a terrible, ugly thing to say. Do you see what you've done
to yourself?"
"I need to meditate and renew."
"I'm going to forgive you for saying that because I know it's not
my brother talking it's your damaged mind choking out reason and common
sense. Vable, get your head right." Arvyn turned away from his brother
and went to the stables.
The light of the full moon shone into the stable bright on Vable's
face. It was about the third watch and he had just recently been able to
get to sleep, the battle with his conscience finally ending in a draw.
His world tipped and jolted. The hammock was torn from its moorings
and wrapped around his neck. The mage made to scream out but all that
would come forth was a rasping whisper.
"Struggle and die," the voice whispered vehemence carried on the
back of a breath that smelled foul, full of dirt and bile.
"Kiev?" Vable rasped.
"Where's Jaxon?"
"Who?" Vable asked honestly, not knowing the boy's name. The
hammock tightened around his neck, threatening to tear his head off.
"The boy you brought here. Where is he?"
"Locked in the Guard House. The cells are in the --" The binding
tightened.
Kiev sniffed lightly a few times right next to his ear.
"Do you smell that, Vable? That's the rotting corpse of your
morality. I had your life in my hands that night I escaped. I could have
done anything to you, your brother and your men. You repaid that favor
-- that benevolence -- with killing me."
"You live," Vable retorted.
"You thought me dead. You left me there not caring about my fate
leaving me to be crushed, feeding the worms. I wonder if I should be as
benevolent now."
"Please," Vable pleaded through his crushing larynx. The hammock
tightened more, sending him to darkness.
Vable slipped away haunted by images of being crushed under the
tree that buried Kiev. Dirt, rocks and roots spinning wildly around him
as he was crushed deeper and deeper into the earth. Somewhere his name
echoed back to him through the turmoil of the debris. He grabbed onto it
mentally and pulled himself toward it.
He woke with Arvyn shaking him awake, repeating his name and Tanbry
muttering imbued phrases over him.
"Vable, can you hear me?" Arvyn asked.
"Kiev!" Vable bolted up, scanning the stable as if expecting the
vicious battle mage to come out at any moment to slaughter them all.
"Kiev?" Tanbry asked. "He was here?"
"That can wait," Arvyn insisted. He thrust Vable's gear into his
brother's arms and shifted his own pack to his shoulder. "We're needed
at the docks. A fire has broken out that means to claim the entire
port." He pulled Tanbry along with him as Vable stumbled behind, putting
his boots on as he rushed.
They caught up with the tail end of the guard flowing from the
house with all haste to the pier. People were rushing every which way,
mostly toward the fire, but some away in fear and ushering those not
able to fight the fire to safety.
Sven Behrens was there, directing his men and women to aide in
fighting the fire and escorting others to safety. He saw the Esoterics
arrive and rolled his eyes.
"You three have done enough. Get out of here," the gruff sergeant
scoffed.
"We can help," Arvyn offered.
"Your kind of help I don't need right now."
"Sergeant," Vable started, "my brother and sister will be crucial.
Don't let the pier be lost due to a grudge."
"Grudge? I have to constantly remind my recruits that we are the
enforcers of peace, not the judge. They all know what you did and it's
caused nothing but discontentment amongst my ranks. Everybody thinks
they can go off killing whenever they damn well please to."
"I'll leave to help the others retreat a safe distance. But you
would be foolish not to use Arvyn and Tanbry in your efforts," Vable
conceded.
Sven leveled a look to Vable, then to his siblings. "Very well. But
you get out of here. Where can you two help?" Vable caught up to a
retreating octogenarian limping away from the fire as his siblings took
up the cause.
"Tanbry, let's get the tides shifted a bit," Arvyn started. "I'll
start there where the fire is the most intense. Keep directing the
efforts and we'll find the rhythm where we're needed most, sergeant."
Sven nodded. "Hop to. Neilson!" he barked. "By the mustache of our
duke, get your men into a semblance of order!" He marched away, leaving
Tanbry and Arvyn to their tasks.
Tanbry ran down a dock that wasn't on fire. Once satisfied with her
position, she knelt down to the water. It was just barely out of her
reach. She sighed, stood, stripped her outer robe off then dove into the
ocean.
Arvyn ran up to a group of guard and citizens who were in a water
chain sending buckets up and down the chain. He reached into his pack
and produced a few leather balls and eyed the building, the fire licking
up the walls.
"Who has a good throwing arm?" he called out. Two guards motioned
toward him and left their position in the line.
"Good, here is one for you and another for you." He handed them
each an orb. "Throw these into the upper window, both of you. On my
mark." He palmed two more, eyeing the doorway. "Three, two, one, now!"
They all hit their prospective targets. As soon as the orbs hit the
flames they ignited and burst, small explosions flared up then stole the
air from the fire, knocking down the flames.
Tanbry broke the surface of the water with her eyes closed. She
bobbed there momentarily then started to lift with the rising tide. The
edge of the dock came inline with her brow and then disappeared under
the ebbing waters of the Valenfaer. Fire and salt water met in fierce
battle, sizzling discord throughout the building.
The young woman thrust her hands up sharply, sending a thin curtain
of water up to the sky. It arched over the building, showering down to
extinguish the majority of the wicked flames. Sven looked on, impressed
despite his earlier apprehension.
"Well, I'll be a bearded sow." He looked around at the others, town
folk and guard alike, staring in the same disbelief. "Alright, you
one-handed monkeys. Get back to the fight. The fire's been knocked back
for sure, but let's not let this advantage go to waste." The others
spurred forward to the burning building with a renewed vigor.
Vable had helped the old man to the other retreating group and
stepped in beside a guard carrying a child beside a mother and her other
children.
"Some kind of luck, hey," the guard commented. "We jut get the
docks rebuilt from those Beinisons then this happens."
"Yeah," Vable absently agreed.
"I was about to get off shift too. At least I can get first dibs on
the comfortable cot, hey."
"See, its not all gong and woe," Vable offered.
"Yeah. And I'll bet I can get to sleep before everyone else comes
back."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, every last man is down at the docks or the old causeway. The
bunkhouse will be nice and quiet for a bell or two, allow a person to
fall asleep right quick."
"Everyone is at the dock." Vable took a moment and thought about
Kiev's visit. "No one is at the Guard House."
"That's what I'm saying. Peaceful quiet."
Vable quite gruffly sent the old man to another guard and rushed
through the throng toward the Old Guard House. Menes flew by, his feet
taking him through the door and downstairs to the hold. Lamps had been
put out and the thick dark was an obsidian curtain. He drew his batons
and eased forward to the bottom of the steps. The mage set a hand
gingerly on the wall and imbued a large stone with a soft white light,
illuminating the room.
On the floor was the sole guard left behind to tend the prisoners,
unconscious. Only one cell had a man in it, the others were empty. Vable
rushed to the cell, recognizing at last the man who had been brought in
for public nuisance. Jaxon was gone.
The mage knelt by the guard to see if he was dead or alive. The man
grunted and rolled to his side, thankfully alive.
"Where did he go? I'm going to bash the bastard's face through the
back of his thieving head," the guard vowed.
"Can you stand?" Vable wrapped an arm under the guard's armpit and
lifted.
"No. The chair is just there." They made it to the chair and the
man slumped with a huff and a groan.
"What do you remember? Did they tell you anything?"
"There was nothing. The lad started in about my weight and being
vulgar. I turned to give him a lesson in respecting his elders and
authority and the like, then the room went dark. Everything went dark."
"I know where they're going," the man in the cell said.
"Where?" Vable walked to the bars. "Where have they gone?"
"Let me go and I'll tell you."
"You aren't getting out of here that easy, Gareth. Ignore him, sir
mage. He'll naught but tell you lies."
"Where?" Vable pressed again.
"You let me go?" Gareth asked.
"Yes, you'll get your freedom."
"They thought me sleeping. The large man makes for the keep."
"Piss my rotten fate. Let him go."
"Sir?"
"Let this man go then get word to Darklen that Kiev is headed to
the keep."
"Breaking into the keep is going to be a fair bit harder than
breaking into the guard house, sir mage."
"Just do it!"
Jaxon and Kiev walked along the bank leading north from the Doravin
encampment. They tripped along the foliage until Kiev was satisfied with
his position.
"Here we go. Jaxon, get to the shadow boys and hide."
"The gong you say. I'm not leaving you."
"Things are about to get hairy."
"Hairier than they have been? Besides, I'm too old for the shadow
boys and when I left ... well, I didn't exactly leave on positive
terms."
"Piss."
"You're one to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, just to say that you are the paragon of bridge burning."
"Straight," Kiev laughed.
"How are we going to get across?"
"It'll get wet. Get your pack off, we'll need to arrange some
things." The battle mage started to remove his clothes and armor. "Get
all my gear into the pack. I need to take a moment." Kiev walked to the
edge of the river.
"What are you doing?"
"This isn't as easy as the other rhythms I fall into. This takes a
lot more willpower and discipline. Shush."
"Shush?" Jaxon started folding and shoving Kiev's gear into the
pack. Once it was all secured he tied the pauldron onto the exterior of
the pack.
The teen walked down to sit beside Kiev who was kneeling and in a
deep trance. His knees were touching the water and his hands were
pressed together at his chest as if in prayer. Jaxon had a look of
slight surprise when Kiev started to glow. Well, became transparent,
reflecting the light around him as would a pool of water.
"Quickly now, I haven't much time," Kiev stated in an urgent,
splash-filled tone.
"Whoa," Jaxon gasped reverently.
"Yeah, it's a divine sight to be sure," Kiev quipped. "Hold on." He
grabbed the straps of the pack and the two waded into the river.
Once the mage was submerged, they quickly flew through the water.
Jaxon found it easier to turn to his side to find breath around the
spraying water. A few menes passed and they were on the other side. A
great splash of a puddle landed on the bank revealed a whole Kiev and a
very wet Jaxon.
"That was fun," Jaxon coughed up water.
"Speak for yourself," Kiev panted and puked up his share of the
river. Jaxon started digging out Kiev's gear, that was now wet.
"So much for keeping the stuff dry."
"The point wasn't to keep it dry, it was to keep it together," Kiev
replied, taking his pants. "Where's my belt?"
"Uh, it's there with your pants," Jaxon stammered, digging through
the pack.
"If it were, would I ask for it?"
"Well, it isn't in here," Jaxon offered.
"Piss." Kiev stared at the far bank.
"You don't think it's at the --" Jaxon stared off at the bank as
well.
"That's more than annoying." Kiev's ire floated on the back of his
voice.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Inconvenient, but it'll be fine. Let's move."
Jaxon closed the pack and followed Kiev along the wall of the keep.
The mage finished up the last adjustments on his brass and iron pauldron
and let out another curse of frustration at the loss of his belt.
"Kiev, what are we doing? Let's just leave, head back to Armand."
"We can't. Not while the duke has it in his head I'm a fugitive. I
can't rely on the duke being so bogged down by regal duty that I'll just
be forgotten. I had a life worth living before all this and I want that
back, unhindered by the judgments of Dargon."
"Okay. Then why are we *sneaking* in?" Jaxon asked.
"You think after what happened on the trail I'll just get face time
with the duke? It should be here somewhere," Kiev muttered.
"What?"
"There is a tunnel that leads into the keep. Some secret escape,
sewage tunnels or something."
"If you know about it, how secret can it be?" Jaxon scoffed.
"Straight," Kiev sighed. "Here." He peered over the cliff facing
the Valenfaer. "Go hide at the base of the wall and keep an eye out.
I'll scout it out a little and come back for you. Any sign of more
trouble than we can handle and I want you to get out."
"But --"
"Jaxon," Kiev scolded softly. "If things get carried away they
aren't going to mince about with us. They will kill us. Of all the blood
on my hands I don't want yours too."
"Okay." Jaxon nodded, conceding the point.
"But," Kiev stated sharply, "remember to look out and that I will
be right back. Okay? You ditching me is just a contingency, get it?"
"I don't know," Jaxon purred, stroking his chin. "You already said
I could leave."
"Nice." Kiev smiled.
"I'll be here." Jaxon sprung off toward the base of the wall. Kiev
peered over the side, found a few holds on the slippery rock and started
down.
The mouth of the cave entrance was just a few cubits down and even
though there was a close call that nearly sent him to the rock and
beating surf, he managed to enter the cave.
He got his footing and took a step toward the bowels of the keep
when a light emanated from deeper within the tunnel. A few blinks
adjusted his eyes to see the glowing rock.
And an angry Vable.
"I can't say that I am overly surprised," Kiev admitted. "But I am
curious how you knew to start here?"
"Kalen told me this is how you broke in the first time," Vable
said, voice steady. A slow stream of blood flowed from his nose,
unchecked to cover his shirt.
"Ah. Creatures of habit, I suppose. So," Kiev sighed, holding his
hands out wide. "What now?"
"Now I take you in," Vable said.
"Really? Just you? I thought you would have a vast contingent of
men. Just like last time."
"They're dealing with this Doravin crisis."
"Right, right. So it's nothing to do with what happened last time
you were given charge of the duke's resources?" He smiled.
"No," Vable spit.
"I'm not going to let you arrest me." Kiev had his maces at the
ready. "Know that if you stand against me, I will kill you. And your
little magic trick of a detector won't be able to register any guilt on
my conscience for it either."
"Put your weapons down." Vable had his batons out, swinging them in
a sharp, elegant dance.
"Step aside," Kiev warned. He recognized what Vable was doing. It
was a rune dance similar to his that usually called on an element.
Similar, yet different enough that Kiev was unsure what element Vable
was calling on.
A small pillar of light erupted between the mages. It danced to and
fro until Vable finished the dance, upon which the pillar attacked Kiev.
Recognizing the threat too late, Kiev fell into the brass tune of
his pauldron. The tune held right when the white fire clung to his
armored arm. The pain was excruciating, the white fire burned brighter
and hotter than anything Kiev had ever witnessed. He wound his one mace
around, grasping with every ounce of his will to focus on the task and
not the burning. He finished and a gust of wind burst through the
tunnel, chasing the sentient fire off his arm toward Vable.
The other mage ducked, focus failing on the fire and the lit
boulder, wrapping the cave in darkness once more. All light was gone
save for the slight moonlight washing in. And the glowing metallic arm
of Kiev.
A hand wrapped around Vable's neck, lifting him to the wall of the
cave and choking the life from him.
"You win. I guess I *don't* understand you as well as I thought."
Kiev's voice was filled with pain, wavering to be held together. "This
makes the third time I have held your life, literally in my hands. This
time you will be given a reminder of my grace and your station, Vable."
A glowing hand came up to Vable's face with its finger extended.
The finger placed three scorched divots on his forehead. When the finger
was done, the hand moved to his chest, fingers splayed out wide. Brass
met with shirt and ignited it, burning through to connect with flesh.
Vable tried to fight back, but the pillar of brass was unyielding.
Fighting to regain his focus he called out mentally to a rock. The rock
shifted, he could feel it. Just when he felt he could get a good mental
hold on it, the searing stopped and he was dropped to the cave floor.
"You will always remember me," Kiev rasped. "Three times I had you,
three times I have let you live."
"Toss off," he growled. A boulder crashed through the cave and
connected with the metal mage, rolling him up in its angry velocity and
out the entrance to the sea floor.
An explosion sounded off in the distance. It was hard to tell from
where in relation to the keep for the crashing waves and insulation of
the stone tunnel.
The shards of Vable's delicate psyche shattered into the vast
oblivion on the rapids of madness. The mage sat there bleeding, losing
his identity and sense of reality while the dementia found an easier
hold on his mind. The little portion of him that was mildly aware
wondered how long he would be in the tunnel before someone realized he
was there.
Then that small conscious light was snuffed out by the enveloping
madness.
========================================================================
The Far Patrol
By Liam Donahue
liam_the_red@dargonzine.org
Ober 14-17, 1018
The village of Marrack's Crossing was aptly named. It amounted to
little more than a gathering of houses at the meeting of two roads: a
large trade road that led southeast from Dargon to Narragan and a
smaller road that crossed it. Cael regarded the village from a hill he
had just ascended. It sat nestled in the small valley between his hill
and another, beside a large pond. This was his first glimpse of the
place where he was supposed to meet his companions. He was surprised at
how tiny the village seemed. It wasn't really that much smaller than his
own hometown of Heahun, he reflected. After having spent the past three
fortnights as a member of Dargon's Town Guard, Cael found himself using
Dargon -- the large port city that served as the duchy's capital -- for
comparison.
It was as a member of Dargon's Town Guard that Cael found himself
at Marrack's Crossing. As part of his training, he had to take a tour
with Dargon's forest patrol: the men and women who watched the back
roads of the duchy for threats to Dargon's travelers. Knowing he would
have to make the rotation eventually, Cael had volunteered, hoping to
complete his time before Dargon's hard winter settled in during Nober.
Now, looking at the gray clouds clinging to the peaks of the Darst
Range, the mountains that stood to the east, Cael wondered if he
shouldn't have tried his luck and hoped his turn wouldn't come until the
spring. There was nothing for it now, he decided as he pulled his heavy
wool cloak tighter around his shoulders and began his descent toward the
village.
Up close, Marrack's Crossing proved to be even less impressive than
it had from a distance. The larger road was heavily rutted by wagon
wheels, which made for uneven footing even when the ground was hard. It
was no doubt worse when the spring rains gathered in the valley,
allowing those deep ruts to form. The crossing road was little more than
a footpath. One branch led toward the Darst Range, to the southeast. The
other rambled past some hilly farmland until it disappeared into dense
forest. In the middle of the village stood a traveler's inn that was so
small Cael had mistaken it for a house from the distance. Looking at it,
Cael hoped the patrol he was meeting would be on time. Then he caught
himself and laughed. He had become too used to the comforts of a large
city.
Still, it was with some relief that he spotted a small group clad
in the same blue and gray uniform that he wore. It was similar to the
uniform of Dargon's Town Guard, but with a heavy travel cloak and a
stiff leather vest. One, a young woman who was short and slender, stood
talking to an earnest-looking couple from the village. The other two, a
tall, rangy man who held an unstrung bow loosely in one hand, and a
woman who was broad across the hips and shoulders, had noticed Cael's
approach and were exchanging comments.
The woman held Cael's attention. Clearly, she was the sergeant,
Jenna, that he'd be reporting to. From the way she stood, it was evident
that her bulk was more muscle than fat. She was solid and, Cael saw as
he moved closer, weathered, as if she had spent long years patrolling
the back roads of Dargon duchy. She looked at least ten years senior to
the young woman who was off chatting with the locals. As Cael
approached, she looked him up and down, nodded once as if pleased with
her appraisal, and held out a hand.
"You'd be Cael, then?"
Cael grasped her wrist and felt her strong hand close around his
own. "Straight. That would be me."
"This here's Westerly," she said, releasing Cael's wrist and
pointing to the man beside her. The two men clasped wrists and nodded a
greeting. Cael saw over Westerly's shoulder that the younger woman had
finished her conversation and was moving to join them. He turned back to
the older woman.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, sergeant. I'm looking forward to
serving in your patrol."
The woman smiled in response, but it was a half-grin of amusement
rather than a smile of pleasure. She glanced at Westerly and they both
smiled as if at some secret joke.
Before Cael could ask what was so amusing, the young woman
approached, glanced at the other two guards and then turned to him.
"Straight. Cael, is it? Good to have you with us. I'm Jenna, your
sergeant. I see you've already met Westerly and Maylis."
At this, the older woman snorted, and Westerly emitted a short
laugh before biting his lip. The young woman glared at them.
Cael nodded, beginning to understand the joke. "Straight, I was
born in a small village, but not that small a village." Looking at the
two who were desperately trying not to laugh, he said, "I know all about
having a little fun with the new guy, but if you want to try to tell me
this skinny young girl is the sergeant, you can at least try to do it
with a straight face." He started to match their grins, only to notice
that theirs were fading. In fact, by the time he finished speaking, both
of their mouths stood agape, and Westerly was shaking his head. He
turned to the younger woman, who was now glaring at him.
"Despite my age and my size, I am the sergeant. Is that going to be
okay with you, Cael, or would you rather wait until a patrol comes by
that's led by someone a little larger and older?"
Cael felt his cheeks begin to flush. "N-no, I --"
"Good. How do you feel after your journey? Tired, are you?"
In fact, Cael was fairly tired. He had been afoot since leaving a
small caravan at Fennell Keep. It had taken the southern road to
Narragan, while he had needed to follow the eastern road that had taken
him here. He had been walking for bells before arriving at Marrack's
Crossing. However, he shook his head, uncertain how to respond to the
young sergeant.
"Straight," she said with a nod. "We've got leagues to cover before
nightfall."
"Leagues?" asked Westerly. "I thought we were going to stay here
tonight, Jenna."
"I was hoping for a warm bed tonight myself, Wes, but those folks
have some family arriving that are way overdue. We need to check it out.
I want you to hear their story for yourselves, ask your own questions."
Jenna led them over to the two villagers. "Straight," she said. "I
want you to tell them what you told me, and answer any questions they
have. That will help us find your missing kin."
Cael looked to the man, who was round faced with wisps of
reddish-brown hair clinging to his scalp, but the man just wrung a piece
of cloth in his hands while his lower lip trembled. The woman spoke up
instead. "You'll have to forgive my husband, but it's been a difficult
few sennights for him. His people are from Arvalia, an' his sister -- we
just received word that she died. Lung fever, it was. Her husband never
come back from the Beinison War, an' that leaves only his brother,
Nevin, to look out for her two children, Kala and little Dory. Only
Nevin's a merchant, an' he travels about half the year. A trade caravan
is no place for a child to grow up, so he's bringing them to stay with
us. Only they was due two days ago." She choked back a sob, clearly
fighting to remain composed. Her husband slipped an arm around her and
nodded.
Jenna spoke. "Straight. Who has a question? Cael, how about you?"
Surprised that she would look to him after he had insulted her,
Cael glanced down. He noticed in passing that the piece of cloth the man
had been wringing was, in fact, a cap. Thinking of his own travels on
the roads of Dargon, he asked, "How do you know they are missing? Travel
is sometimes difficult. Losing two days between here and Arvalia isn't
unlikely."
"True, sir," said the woman, "but Nevin was bringin' them on his
own caravan. He sent a man ahead on horseback to make some arrangements
in Dargon. That man stopped here to let us know Nevin was less than a
day's travel from Marrack's Crossing. That was three days ago." She
actually did sob then, just once. Then she looked away, wiped her eyes
on her sleeve, and turned back to face the guards.
"What do you know about the caravan?" asked Westerly. "Any idea how
big it was or how many guards Nevin traveled with?"
The woman shook her head. "I think he had three wagons the last
time he come through, an' there's always a few armed men with him, but I
never really counted."
Maylis cleared her throat. "Can you tell us what the children
looked like?"
"Oh, aye," said the woman, "though we haven't seen them since we
took the trip down shortly after little Dory was born. He has hair like
my husband here, only more of it. He'd be eight now. Kala's older,
thirteen, and she has the prettiest straight blonde hair and bright blue
eyes. Oh, the poor little things ..." She turned and buried her head in
her husband's shoulder and he wrapped his arm more tightly about her.
Jenna nodded to the three guards. "Let's get moving." She turned
back to the couple and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "We'll do our
best to find them."
They set off down the east road, at a pace that made Cael's calves
ache. Jenna led the way, small and determined. Westerly seemed to have
no trouble keeping up, but his lanky frame seemed built for covering
long distances. Maylis plodded along behind them at a solid clip, and
soon dropped back to walk next to Cael.
She looked concerned. "Are you all right, Cael?"
"I'm keeping up. Jenna sets quite a pace though. Does the forest
patrol always move this quickly?"
Maylis gave a tight-lipped smile. "No, but there may be lives in
danger. We move quickly for that. But I wasn't asking about the pace."
"Oh," Cael said, feeling his cheeks begin to redden again. "That. I
did make a terrific first impression with my new sergeant, didn't I?"
This evoked a short chuckle from Maylis. "Don't be too concerned
about it. Most people underestimate Jenna. I think she's come to expect
it. She's probably already forgotten about it."
A shout from Jenna drew their attention. She stood facing them.
From the distance, Cael realized he and Maylis had fallen farther
behind. "I'm glad you two have enough energy to enjoy a chat," she said.
"I'm sure you'll have enough left to stand your watch tonight. Maylis,
you'll take the first watch. Cael, you're on midwatch." She turned and
continued on.
"Then again, maybe not," Maylis said with a shrug, and then rushed
ahead to close the distance to Jenna and Westerly.
Cael followed, wondering if he would ever recover from his misstep
with Jenna. He'd learned from the other Town Guards in Dargon who had
done a tour with the forest patrol that the patrol stood watch at night
in three shifts when they slept in the open. The first was right after
supper, which meant staying up while the others went to sleep, but you
could sleep through the rest of the night. Likewise, the last watch
allowed for some solid sleep before having to get up early. The worst
was the midwatch, with only two or three bells worth of sleep to either
side. Cael knew everyone had to take a turn at it, but he also knew the
midwatch was often given as punishment. He spent the rest of the day
trudging silently behind the others, wondering how he was going to keep
the same pace the next day without a full night's rest.
Evening came quicker than Cael expected. Jenna sent him for
firewood and she and Maylis prepared camp; Westerly strung his bow and
went in search of dinner. After a few menes, Cael returned with one
armload of damp wood and went in search of more, thinking that it would
be a cold supper and an even colder night if he couldn't find something
a bit drier. His second armload was, if anything, wetter than the first,
but by the time he returned with it, Maylis already had a small fire
going. Cael dumped the wood near it, and began brushing away the leaves
and bark that clung to his clothing. Westerly returned with a few small
birds, so they had a little meat to roast over the fire and enjoy with
their bread and cheese. Little was said over supper; everyone seemed too
tired to carry on a conversation. After he ate, Cael tried to find a
comfortable spot near their small fire and settled down with his heavy
cloak wrapped around him, and his head resting on his small pack.
What seemed like only menes later, Maylis was shaking him awake. He
could tell by the dim light from Nochturon -- the moon was waning past
its last quarter -- that several bells had passed. He sat up, and shook
his head to clear the fog of sleep, then stood and made his way to the
bushes to relieve himself. When he returned, he was surprised to find
Jenna sitting up by the fire, checking the edge of her weapon by the
firelight. She, like Cael, carried a short sword favored by many of
Dargon's Town Guard. She glanced up at him for a moment as he joined her
by the fire, but then returned her gaze to her weapon. She took out a
small stone and worked on a few spots along the blade. Cael sat in
silence, watching her as she worked.
After several long menes, she looked up again. "If there's any
danger, it'll be coming from out there, Cael." She gestured with her
weapon into the darkness.
"Straight, I -- sorry," Cael muttered as he turned his gaze in the
direction Jenna had pointed.
"It's best," she said, "to stand your watch away from the fire,
unless it's too cold. That way your eyes will adjust to the darkness and
you'll be better able to see someone approaching. It's also better to
stand your watch on your feet. You'll be less likely to fall asleep."
Cael nodded, and rose, taking a spot some distance from the fire,
and peering out into the darkness, intently aware Jenna was behind him,
watching him.
After a few moments, she spoke again. "Cael?"
He almost turned back, but caught himself. If he looked back at
her, his eyes would have to adjust to the gloom all over again. "Yes?"
"Are you able to stand this watch? Don't try to impress me. I need
an honest answer. I will be a lot less impressed if I find out you dozed
off and left us all in danger than I will if you tell me now that you're
too tired."
Cael thought before answering. He would have liked nothing more
than to sleep through the night, but he knew his duty. "I can do it."
"Good man. I have the next watch. If you start to feel like you
can't keep your eyes open, you wake me early. Otherwise, wake me in
about three bells. Straight?"
"Straight." He glanced skyward, taking note of the stars'
positions. Like many who were from small towns without bell towers, he
was adept at telling the passage of time by the position of sun, moon,
and stars. Behind him, Cael heard Jenna shifting around, likely settling
back to sleep. He began a slow circle that would take him around the
perimeter of the camp, always directing his eyes away from the fire.
"And Cael?" Jenna's voice called out again.
"Aye?"
"Thank you for taking the midwatch. We've been short-handed for
about a sennight. Baren, our fourth, turned his ankle, and we had to
leave him at an inn to rest it."
"I -- oh, I thought ..."
"That I was punishing you for calling me a 'skinny young girl'?
That was part of it, but I was probably going to ask you to take the
midwatch anyway. Don't worry, Westerly will have it tomorrow. And Baren
will get more than his share after a few sennights spent in a cozy inn
with his feet up!"
"But won't he be heading back to Dargon?"
"What? No, Baren's not on rotation. He's forest patrol like Maylis
and me. You were actually supposed to be Westerly's replacement, but I
had to ask him to stay on while Baren recovered."
"Was he disappointed?"
"Not really. He's taken pretty well to it. You saw how good a shot
he is with a bow, and he's a very good tracker. His talents were being
wasted back in the city. Goodnight, Cael."
Cael thought he had heard a trace of contempt in her voice when
Jenna said "city", but he decided to let her sleep rather than ask about
it. Once he had been away from the fire and on his feet for a while,
Cael found it easier than he had expected to stay awake. His watch
passed without incident, and he made sure a good three bells passed
before waking Jenna. Then he curled back up by the fire and immediately
fell asleep.
Daylight came too early, and with it the smell of ... eggs? Cael
sat up to see Maylis huddled by the fire. She glanced over at him.
"Ah, there you are. Thought I was going to have to give you a kick.
Westerly got up early and found a late nest. There's not much, but it's
better than just dried meat and cheese."
It was, and Cael ate heartily. Soon after, they cleared the camp,
doused the fire, and were on their way. As they pressed on through the
morning, they drew closer to the Darst Range. The road grew hillier, and
the forest more dense. They walked slower than the day before, and
occasionally stopped to listen. Westerly checked the ground for tracks
from time to time, as well. Once, as he stood after close examination
from the ground, Cael heard him mutter, "Shouldn't be long."
"What's that?" Cael asked.
"Shouldn't be long," the tall man repeated. "The rider who came to
Marrack's Crossing said they were less than a day from there, on this
road. So, it shouldn't be long until we see some sign of them."
"Good point," said Jenna, as she scanned the woods. "Let's have
bows at the ready. Westerly, you're point. Cael, you keep an eye out to
the left. Maylis, right. Let's go."
They continued that way, walking in silence, until they heard the
unmistakable cawing of crows. "Carrion birds are never a good sign,"
Westerly muttered.
The cawing was to their left, but Jenna kept them on the road as
the sound of the birds drew closer. Then Cael saw something through the
trees; it looked like the top of a small wooden building, with something
odd protruding from the two corners he could see. It took him a moment
to realize those somethings were wheels, viewed on end. "Wagon!" he
hissed. "It's overturned."
"Straight," said Jenna, her voice low. "I see it. Good eyes, Cael.
String your bows and stay together everyone. With the crows being so
calm, it should be safe, but best not to take chances."
Cael unslung his bow and strung it, while the others did the same.
He noticed that Jenna and Maylis carried small bows like his. Westerly's
bow was much larger. Clearly, the tall man had trained as an archer in
his youth; Cael doubted that he could even draw it.
"I don't think we'll be bringing back good news," Maylis said, as
she drew an arrow from her quiver. Her voice was tight.
"There," said Westerly. "Up ahead there's a side trail." He pointed
to a small, somewhat overgrown track that led off the main road toward
where Cael had seen the wagon. They followed it toward a small clearing,
alert for any danger. Before long, Cael could see the lower part of his
overturned wagon. It looked like a pile of trade goods -- bolts of
bright cloth, shattered pottery, and various sized casks and boxes --
had spilled out of it. He spied three other wagons as well. As they drew
closer, he detected the foul odor of meat left in the sun too long. The
crows began to caw more angrily and some took a few reluctant hops away
from their approach. Cael could see why the crows would not want to
leave. Someone had left them a feast.
Cael could tell from the unhitched wagons and the remains of a
large campfire that the attack had come at night. The circle of bodies
around the burned out fire told him it had come quickly, as well.
Whatever had attacked these people had been brutal. The bodies were torn
open, with big chunks of flesh missing. Cael looked closely at one
tattered and bloody throat hoping to determine what sort of animal had
attacked the camp, when a glimpse of the face above the wound caused him
to pull back with a gasp of recognition. He took a closer look at the
dead man's face, and knew where he had seen it before. It was a younger
version of the man they had spoken to at Marrack's Crossing. The corpse
had the same reddish-brown hair, only more of it, and with less gray.
"I've found Nevin," he called to his companions. "He's here by the
fire with five -- no, four others." He corrected himself when he
realized one of the bodies had been ripped in half.
"Good job, Cael," said Jenna, who was examining one of the wagons
that had not been overturned. "See if you can find any clue about who or
what attacked these people." She raised her voice loud enough for
the
other two to hear. "Any sign of the children?"
"No," said Westerly from where stood at the perimeter of the
clearing, looking down at another body.
"Maybe they hid somewhere during the attack," said Maylis from some
distance away. "Should we call for them?"
"Not yet," said Jenna. "We need more information before we go
shouting names into the woods."
Cael saw a heavy cloth purse at Nevin's belt, and bent down to
untie it. He heard the unmistakable clink of coins from inside as he
did. Once it was free he looked inside, and was surprised at what he
saw. There were a few copper and brass coins, but it was mostly silver
Rounds along with two gold Marks. A fortune! He tucked it into his belt
and continued looking.
Near the fire, he saw some heavy prints. They seemed larger than
could be made by any of the people who had been by the fire. There might
be a large guard or drover or what was left of him, somewhere in the
camp, though. Cael decided to leave the track interpretation to
Westerly, though, and went to investigate one of the upright wagons. He
came to one with a heavy tarp tied down over it. Peeking under the tarp,
he saw goods similar to what had spilled out of the overturned wagon,
all undisturbed. Another wagon held several barrels tied in place in the
front, but the back held bundles of clothing, blankets, cookware, and
food: obviously the caravan's traveling supplies. A look through the
bundles revealed some undersized clothing.
A call from Jenna interrupted him. "Gather up! Let's see what we
have."
Cael, Westerly, and Maylis all joined her by the fire. Everyone
looked somber.
"First," she said, "any sign of the children?"
Everyone stood silent, as if afraid to speak. Finally, Cael broke
the silence. "I found some clothing, in that wagon. Looked to be the
right size."
"Tracks," said Westerly. "Around the camp. Not going anywhere, and
never running." He shrugged. "There is a trampled spot over there. Their
tracks could be lost in it."
Maylis just shook her head.
"Straight," said Jenna, with a nod. "What else? Who or what did
this?"
"Animal," said Maylis. "Maybe a bear? I don't know. It seems too
savage for a bear. The horses ..."
"What about the horses?" Jenna demanded.
"Torn open. Pieces bitten out of them."
"Same with the people by the fire," Cael said. "Something tore into
them. Ate them. One was torn in half. Had to be some kind of animal."
"Unless the local bears have started using weapons," said Westerly,
"I have to disagree. I found this." He held up what looked like part of
a sword: hilt, guard, and about two hands length of blade, broken in a
jagged line at the end. The blade looked strangely dull. "Found the rest
buried in the chest of a man over there. Punched straight through a hard
leather hauberk."
"Bandits with trained animals, then? Big attack dogs?" Maylis
suggested.
"Can't be," said Cael.
"Why are you so sure?" Jenna asked.
"Nothing's taken. All of the wagons are full. And why would bandits
kill the horses? They're valuable."
"Maybe they only took what they could carry?" Jenna suggested.
"What if they stick to the mountain trails, where horses would have
trouble?"
Cael pulled out the pouch he had found. "They didn't look very
hard, then. This was tied to Nevin's belt. There's gold in it." He
paused to let that sink in. "You could give up life as a bandit with
what's in here."
Jenna nodded, then turned to Westerly. "What else can you tell me
about that weapon? It looks strange."
"It is strange," he replied. "I don't think it's metal."
"Not metal?" asked Cael.
Westerly tossed it to him. "See for yourself. I think it's stone."
Cael caught it and looked closely at it. It did seem to be made of
stone, but with a sharper edge than he ever thought stone could hold.
"Stone ... the Doravin!"
"The what?" Jenna asked.
"The Doravin. Strangers in Dargon. They're repairing the causeway.
Supposed to be master stoneworkers. Their tools are all stone, and
there's even stone in their clothing. Many people are suspicious of
them. I've never heard of them going this far from Dargon before,
though."
"Hm," said Jenna. "Well, that's one theory. Ever heard of them
using trained animals, Cael?"
He shook his head.
"Straight. Well, everyone was bitten to death, even the horses,
except for the one man Westerly found."
"No, sorry," said Westerly. "There were three others over there,
all killed by sharp weapons. There was just the one weapon left behind.
All four looked to be guards."
Jenna nodded. "So, the Doravin, or whoever, attacked the guards,
but then set animals on the rest of the camp? I can believe that. But
what about the horses? Why set their animals on them?"
"To keep them quiet?" suggested Maylis.
The smaller woman turned to her. "To keep them quiet, they set
savage animals to attack them? I don't think I believe that. Let's take
a closer look at these horses."
They followed to where the dead horses lay. Jenna bent over one,
and looked, then motioned Westerly to join her. "What do you think?"
He bent down and looked. "I don't think this bite killed this
horse." He took hold of the horse's muzzle and lifted its head. "Its
neck is broken. It's more like something killed it, and then took a
bite."
Cael moved to join them, looking over the bodies of the horses.
"They aren't nearly as torn apart as the people by the fire."
Jenna stood up. "This isn't getting us closer to finding those
missing children. They're not here, and the only tracks leaving are over
there, Wes?"
The tall man nodded. "Big footprints, maybe five or six sets."
"No animal prints?"
Westerly gave her a lopsided grin. "I'm not sure I'd say that."
Jenna scowled. "What do you mean?"
Westerly pointed down at the trampled area. "Well, look at these
prints."
Cael moved to join them, looking at the ground, which was trampled
by heavy prints. "I saw some prints like this near the fire. They're
just heavy boots, aren't they?"
"Look closer," said the other man.
Cael bent to examine the tracks more closely. They all looked the
same. A large print, like what a big man in boots would make. He looked
for differences, to see if he could tell how many attackers there were.
One print had marks near the front: four indentations, evenly spaced.
Some sort of raised feature on the sole? He looked for others. They were
there, as well, and on the opposite boot. He looked to either side. The
same features appeared on the other tracks as well. The same person,
making multiple trips? Many men with the same markings on their boots.
Or, could it be ...?
He looked up to see Westerly and Jenna looking down at him. "They
almost look like ..." Cael paused, not wanting his idea to be laughed
at.
Westerly finished his thought for him, though. "Claws. Four on each
foot." He pointed toward the back of one print. "And look here. This
rounding could be from a boot heel that's worn away, but they're all
like that. Whatever did this was barefoot. And big."
Cael put his own foot down next to one of the prints. It was larger
than the sole of his boot. "Very big," he said with a nod. He looked at
Jenna. "What do we do?"
The sergeant looked in the direction of the tracks and then at
Westerly. "How many?"
"I'd say five."
She nodded. "Hm. I don't like that. Still, we need follow them.
There are more of them than us, but they don't know we'll be following.
And I don't think they have bows. They've probably taken the missing
children, who may still be alive. More importantly, though, we need to
see what did this."
Cael opened his mouth to object, but Westerly and Maylis were both
nodding in agreement, so he stayed silent. He was by no means a coward,
but following creatures that large into the wilderness when they were
outnumbered just didn't seem wise.
"Westerly, you take point," Jenna said. "Cael and Maylis, you're
flanking. I want to you keep an arrow to the string, and keep your eyes
open."
Cael did as he was ordered and took the left flank. Westerly began
following the tracks, moving quickly. They followed the tracks for
several bells, seeing nothing more dangerous than birds, tree rats, and
a solitary deer. The creatures, whatever they were, had left the
campsite along the same route they had come; the same large tracks went
in both directions, although sometimes the back trail wandered away for
a while. As they continued, heading east toward the Darst Range, the
ground grew rougher and more uneven. It was well into the afternoon
before Westerly drew up short, standing at the apex formed where two
trees had fallen in different directions.
"'Ware!" the tall man hissed.
Cael immediately spun to his left, scanning beside and behind them
for danger, suddenly wondering if his small bow would be any use against
a creature as large as the ones they were following.
"What is it, Wes?" asked Jenna.
"The tracks just stopped, and there's no back trail here. They
might have doubled back."
"Straight," she said. "Cael, Maylis, see anything?"
As he tried to peer through the foliage, Cael imagined eyes
watching from the underground, fierce creatures ready to charge, but he
saw nothing. "No," he replied. Maylis reported the same.
Jenna stood beside him, looking back along their trail. She called
over her shoulder to Westerly. "Could they have climbed over those tree
trunks? Maybe the tracks continue on the other side."
"Or maybe one of the fallen trees is obscuring the trail?" Cael
asked, suddenly imagining a monster large enough to push over a tree to
hide its tracks.
"Good thought," said Westerly, "but the tracks stop well short of
the trees. I'm going to take a look on the other side."
"Not alone, you're not," said Jenna. "If they did double back and
set an ambush, they could be waiting for us to split up to look for the
trail. Come on, you two."
They explored the area around the two trees. Westerly led them
through the two massive root balls. Cael could see that both trees had
fallen away from a small hill. There were no tracks to be seen there,
though, or anywhere along the two trunks.
Westerly shook his head. "Either they suddenly decided to start
hiding their trail, or this is a false one, but I'm having trouble
believing they did either one."
"Why?" asked Jenna.
"If they were going to hide their trail, they should have started
much earlier than this, like back at the camp."
"Unless they just figured out we were following them," said Cael.
"No," said Jenna, with a gesture toward the surrounding brush. "If
they knew we were here, I think they would have attacked by now. I doubt
five of anything that big are going to flee from the four of us. They
certainly had no qualms about attacking the caravan when they were
outnumbered." She turned back to Westerly. "Why not a false trail?"
"To do that, they would have had to back down their own tracks
here, and then done the same thing at a back trail. The last time we saw
a back trail was a while ago. I think I would have noticed if they had
been walking backwards in their own footprints for that long."
"Can you look again and see if you missed anything?"
Westerly's mouth drew into a half-smile. "Maybe, if we hadn't
walked all over them. Still, I suppose the false trail is our best
option. We should retrace our steps." He looked to Jenna, who nodded.
The trip back down their trail was slower. Several times Cael felt
his shoulders bunching as he tensed for a sudden onslaught, but none
came. Westerly bent to the ground frequently, looking for any signs the
creatures had doubled back. There were none.
Soon the shadows grew too long, and Jenna called for a halt. They
lit no fire that evening, and dined sparingly on dried meat and cheese.
As it grew darker, they huddled together for warmth. Jenna said they
would stand watch in pairs. Cael and Maylis had first watch.
Cael sat, with Maylis at his back, staring into the darkness. The
nocturnal animals of the forest began to move around them. To Cael, the
rustle of every branch was the threat of an impending attack. When a
twig snapped nearby, he almost screamed. Whatever had made the sound
moved on, though, leaving Cael to his imagination. He pictured enormous
creatures, twice the height of a man with broad shoulder and arms larger
than human legs, surrounding them and creeping closer, ready to burst
forth and tear him and his companions to pieces.
A sound returned his thoughts to reality. It was a scream, distant
and high-pitched. Cael looked over his shoulder and exchanged a glance
with Maylis. Then they were waking the other two.
Jenna woke first, and shook her head as if to clear it. Then the
scream sounded again, and she was instantly awake. She gave Westerly a
sharp elbow, which had much better results at waking the man than Maylis
had by shaking his shoulder. She looked at Cael.
"It just started a moment ago," he said. "That way."
"Straight," she said, rising. Then they heard the scream again,
longer this time. "Let's move. Fast, and quiet."
They started in the direction of the screaming just as it ended.
The silence was more horrible than the screams; they had stopped too
abruptly, which spoke of violence. Cael moved as quietly as he could
through the underbrush. His way was lit only by traces of moonlight that
filtered through the thick canopy of branches above him. It would have
been complete darkness in the summer months when leaves still covered
the branches, but it was a mixed blessing; those leaves now crunched
underfoot, slowing his progress and hiding branches that could trip him,
or worse, snap and alert the enemy.
As Cael made his way through the trees -- too slow, too loud! -- he
heard just the sound he had been fearing. A loud crack sounded ahead of
him. He froze, and heard the others do likewise. One, he could not tell
who in the darkness, was beside him, and the other two close behind him.
The sound had come from the enemy, then. He heard another crack. Without
the sounds of his own movements to mask them, other noises began to
emerge.
As a boy, Cael had once witnessed a noble's hunting party take down
a boar. After claiming the head for a prize, the lord had rewarded his
dogs by allowing them to feast on the carcass. That was the sound that
now came through the trees: growling, rending of meat, and the
occasional crack of bone. "They're feeding," he whispered, and felt his
stomach fall away as he realized what the meal consisted of. He felt
rage building within him.
A hand closed on his forearm, and he turned to see Jenna's face,
close to his. "Straight," she whispered, "and if you go charging on
ahead, they will be feeding on you next. On all of us."
Cael opened his mouth to object, but the words died on his lips as
he saw Westerly past Jenna's shoulder, gazing levelly at him. Jenna
hadn't restrained Westerly or Maylis, just him. He nodded to her. "So,
what do we do?"
"We try to take them by surprise. Westerly, you take the left
flank. Cael, you're on the right. Go!"
The sounds of feeding had quieted during their whispered exchange.
As Cael took his position to the right and began to creep forward,
matching Jenna's pace, he thought he heard conversation. It was no
language he'd heard before, though, and the voices were harsh and
guttural. Within a mene or so, even that faded, leaving them creeping
forward in silence.
To Cael, it felt like bells before they reached the camp, or what
was left of it. There was no sign of whatever had been feeding here. He
smelled the remains of their meal before he saw it, and looked away
quickly when he did. A glimpse of long blonde hair shining in the faint
moonlight was enough for him. He focused on the rest of the camp. Huge
clods of dirt and lay scattered about near a rough opening in the side
of a small mound. Atop the mound was a familiar sight: two trees,
recently fallen, with their roots exposed. "We've been here," he
whispered.
"Straight," said Westerly. "This is where we lost the tracks. I
stood on top of this hill. They must have been right underneath me!"
"And now we know something more about them," said Jenna. "They're
nocturnal, burrowing underground during the day. When we lose their
tracks again tomorrow, we will know right where they are."
"Tomorrow?" asked Cael. "But --"
"Tomorrow," Jenna interrupted. "They are bigger, there are more of
them, and they can see better than you at night. You can't save her,"
she pointed to the remains behind her, "all you can do is avenge her, or
die trying to. Which do you chose?"
"But the boy!"
"We can only hope they plan to do the same thing they did tonight,
and eat before they break camp. If we can catch them sleeping, maybe we
can save him."
Cael glared at her, then nodded slowly and looked away. He knew she
was right.
They made camp after burying the girl and waited for dawn. No one
slept.
Morning brought sunlight, but no joy. Grim resolve was painted on
all of their faces. Before beginning their hunt, Jenna insisted they
inspect the cave, wanting to know how they had missed the opening the
day before. She ordered Westerly and Cael to stand watch while she and
Maylis took a look inside. Just as they were inspecting the entrance,
Westerly climbed on top of the mound again, and fell with a cry as it
collapsed beneath his weight. They dug him out quickly, and he emerged
spitting dirt.
"I don't understand," he said, "it held my weight fine yesterday. I
could have fallen in on top of them."
Cael looked at the thickness of the remaining cave wall. It was
only as wide as his hand, and consisted of nothing but dirt and roots.
He looked at the fallen trees again. He thought again of the Doravin,
and what he had seen the strange folk doing as they worked to rebuild
Dargon's causeway. "I think I know."
They all turned to look at him, as he continued. "I think it's
magic. This is no cave in a hill. It's a mound of dirt raised up from
the ground. These two trees fell aside when it was formed. It was held
up yesterday by the same magic that formed it. Now it's no longer
needed."
Jenna looked back at the collapsed mound, and then on the ground by
Cael's feet. "That explains these clods of dirt and why we couldn't find
an entrance yesterday. There was none. It was sealed by the same magic.
We've learned all we can here, I think. Let's get moving."
Their progress was much faster than the day before. With less fear
of ambush, they were able to focus more on the tracks. The creatures
were obviously not concerned about pursuit. They were still headed east,
toward the looming Darst Range. Two or three bells before nightfall,
Cael spotted a likely resting place for the creatures. A small, rounded
hump was raised against the side of a large boulder that had slid most
of the way down the side of a large hill. The boulder's path down the
hill was clear; several trees had been knocked down by its passing and a
large gouge was evident in the hillside. Small plants and trees had
begun to grow in the furrow.
Quickly circling the boulder and the earth mound, Westerly
confirmed the tracks went no further. They had located their quarry.
Jenna eyed the boulder. "Now, there's a bit of luck."
"Straight," said Cael, "now to dig them out, and --"
Jenna shook her head. "No. If we dig, they will hear us coming. And
what will we dig with? Our hands? Our swords? That hill yesterday held
all of Westerly's weight. Even if we do get through, we'll be exhausted
and our blades will be blunted. I have something else in mind. We need
to surprise them when they emerge. For now, gather firewood and lots of
it. We'll show these creatures that we have a little magic of our own."
She turned and started pulling fallen branches from the underbrush.
Westerly and Maylis did as well.
Cael moved beside Maylis and helped her drag a large piece of wood
closer to the mound. "Magic? What is she talking about?"
The heavyset woman gave him a small smile. "That would be me."
"You can work magic?"
"A little. My uncle was our village magic worker. I have a touch of
the gift, but not enough for him to 'prentice me. I can mend broken pots
and torn clothing, and draw fire from wet wood." She snapped a twig from
the limb they were dragging. "Dry wood like this? Well, I think I know
what Jenna has in mind."
They spent at least a bell gathering wood and making three piles
near the earth mound. The boulder proved helpful in two ways. It blocked
one side of the mound, letting them know from which side the creatures
would emerge, and the trees it had toppled proved an excellent source of
dry wood.
Maylis spent the remaining time before nightfall adjusting the
piles of wood, occasionally moving a piece from one pile to the next.
All the while she sang or whispered softly. As she did this, Jenna gave
orders to Westerly and Cael, giving them each a location outside the
ring formed by the piles of wood, and with enough cover so they should
not be spotted as the creatures emerged. She told them to have two
arrows ready, and to be prepared to move in with swords at her word.
Cael selected his two best arrows, and inspected his sword and bow while
Maylis worked on the firewood.
Shortly before sunset, Maylis took a small stick from each woodpile
and took station in the arc formed by Cael, Westerly, and Jenna. She put
the three sticks in a pile at her feet, whispered softly to the pile,
and took cover herself.
The sun seemed to take forever to set, and twilight was
interminable, but full darkness finally fell. Shortly afterwards, sounds
began to emanate from the hill. Cael recognized the rough voices
speaking an unknown tongue. The voices fell silent, and a single voice
called out. It barked a few short syllables, and a hole burst open in
the side of the hill, scattering clods of dirt. Cael heard one strike
the ground near his hiding place and ducked.
When he looked up again, he could see a figure climbing out of the
hole. With the faint moonlight, he could discern no features, but it was
large and manlike. Another emerged, and then another. Cael heard the
sounds of their rough speech, and then the whimpering of a child. He
looked closer, and could see a small shape squirming in the grasp of
another creature as it climbed out of the mound.
To his left, he heard Maylis whisper again. He saw a small flash
and the pile of sticks at her feet was suddenly burning brightly. Cael
heard the creatures call out, and turned back to look at them just as
the three piles of wood blazed to life. The sudden brightness stung
Cael's eyes and made it hard to see, but the affect on the creatures was
remarkable.
They all howled in agony and covered their eyes. Cael drew his bow
as he saw one of them drop the child to the ground. As he let fly, he
got his first good look at the things. They stood taller than a man,
covered in fur that looked reddish brown in the firelight. Their faces
were inhuman, though, with jaws like a wolf or a bear. They were
unclothed, save for straps that held weapons and small packs. Unsure of
whether his first arrow hit, Cael drew and loosed his second and was
rewarded with a louder howl of pain at it struck home, buried halfway to
the fletching in one creature's chest. As he reached for another shaft,
he heard Jenna cry, "Take them!" and cast his bow aside, drawing his
blade as he charged forward.
He followed Jenna between two of the blazing fires. With the fires
now at his back, he could see the creatures more clearly, although they
all still had their faces shielded from the firelight with one arm. Two
had weapons drawn, one struggled to remove an arrow from its thigh, and
a fourth was still trying to climb out of the hole. Cael and the others
charged in, driving the monsters back. Cael struck one across the chest,
feeling his weapon strike bone and glance off. The creature took another
step back, blocking with its gray blade and striking out in return. Cael
parried. It was a weak blow, with only the strength of the creature's
arm behind it, and yet Cael still felt the numbing power of it all the
way to his shoulder. It was no wonder these things had taken the caravan
so easily. They would need to finish this fight quickly while the
creatures were still blind and confused.
No sooner had he thought that when he heard Maylis cry out. When
Cael looked over, he saw one of the things, his own arrow protruding
from its chest, drive her back with a blow from its sword, and then
knock her over with a heavy kick. The monster barked in its strange
language -- it sounded like orders to Cael -- and dashed through the
opening. The others followed, staggering from their wounds, but escaping
into the darkness. Cael cursed at the retreating forms, remembering he
had left his bow where he'd waited in ambush.
"They got away," he muttered.
"Not all of them," said Westerly. Cael turned to see him standing
over the one that had been trying to climb out of the hole. It still lay
half in and half out, with its skull crushed.
Maylis groaned and sat up. "Sorry. Those things are tough. At least
it didn't knock me into one of the fires, eh?"
"It's okay, Maylis," said Jenna. "It may be just as well they ran.
We might not have won that fight. We slew one of them, and hurt them
badly. Others may succumb to their wounds. They will be moving slowly,
and we should have an easy blood trail to follow. Best of all, I think
we saved this boy."
The child! Cael looked at Jenna, who was helping the boy to his
feet. She cut straps that cruelly bound his arms. He looked dazed, but
unharmed. He wrapped his arms around Jenna, who suddenly looked
uncomfortable.
"I want to take a look at that thing. Cael, can you ...?" She
gestured helplessly.
"Straight," Cael said, as he stepped forward and gently pried the
boy away from her, crouching down to look at him. His hair was red, like
his uncle's, and his face was dirty and tear-stained. "Here now, you're
safe with us. Your name is Dory, right? You're going to be okay now,
Dory. We'll get you to your aunt and uncle soon."
The boy clung to him, and sobbed for a moment into Cael's shoulder.
Then he muttered something Cael couldn't hear.
"What was that, Dory?"
"Dorian," he said, pulling his head off Cael's shoulder. "Dory is a
baby name. Only my grandmother ever called me that." His eyes, wet with
tears, stared defiantly.
Cael almost laughed. "Dorian it is, then. Can you be brave for me,
Dorian?"
Dorian nodded solemnly.
Cael proceeded to check the boy for injuries and clean him up.
Dorian took this stoically.
Jenna and Westerly finished inspecting the creature, and looked
inside the mound. "No sign of a fifth one," Jenna said, "That's a bit of
luck. Wes, go get the bows. Maylis, how long will these fires last?"
"I think I can keep them going until morning, but not as bright."
"Straight. We'll spend the rest of the night here, and get moving
in the morning. One sleeps, the rest watch."
Howls of agony erupted from the night, but they were distant.
Dorian cried out and clung to Cael for a moment, but quickly let go and
stood straight, with his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Cael
grinned to himself, thinking the boy would do well in Jenna's patrol; he
could certainly follow orders.
"What's that about, do you think?" Maylis looked up from tending
one of the fires.
Westerly returned with the bows. "Pulling out the arrows, I'd say."
"Sounds painful," Cael said. Both men chuckled.
The howling went on for several menes, at times becoming more
intense.
"It sounds like at least one of them is dying," Jenna said.
"That, or they're just not as brave as young Master Dorian,"
Westerly said. That elicited another laugh. Even Jenna smiled. Dorian
just raised his chin.
"Straight," said Jenna, "enough joking. Cael, you'll rest first. No
objections!" She raised a finger when he opened his mouth.
"It's not that I mind," said Cael, "but I don't see how I can sleep
with all that --"
The howling stopped. The only sound was the crackle of the flames.
They all stood silently for a moment.
"I think I liked the howling more than this," Cael said. No on
laughed.
"Sleep, Cael," said Jenna. "The rest of us, eyes and ears open. I
don't see them attacking again with the fires going, but be ready."
Cael sat with his back against the boulder. Dorian curled up next
to him, and he put his hand on the boy's shoulder to comfort him. Cael
tried to sleep, but he couldn't relax. He sat there listening to the
hiss and pop of the fire, straining to hear any sound of movement.
Eventually, his thoughts began to drift and he felt himself surrendering
to sleep.
Maylis' voice woke him. "What was that? I thought I heard ..." Cael
opened one eye to see the heavyset woman framed by the fire, peering
past it into the woods. "Probably nothing, but --"
A harsh voice from beyond the fire cut her off. It was barking
strange syllables. No, intoning them. There was a rhythm to the voice.
Cael started to rise, only to be barraged by dirt and grit. It swirled
around them, stinging their skin and blinding them. Cael covered his
face with his cloak and drew his blade, ready for attack. As he rose,
the buffeting ceased as the cloud of dirt seemed to condense into three
swirling pillars.
The pillars settled on the fires.
Two of the fires were snuffed out completely. The third remained,
guttering.
There was a loud animal growl from close by. One of the creatures
leaped from the bushes and landed on Maylis, knocking her flat. In the
flicking firelight, Cael could see that it had changed. It moved on all
fours, and seemed misshapen. Strange lumps stood out from the fur. It
was fast. Before any of them could move, it dipped its head and tore out
Maylis' throat.
"No!" yelled Westerly, releasing an arrow. It thudded into the
creature, but it did not seem to feel the impact. Cael charged and
slashed at it. He felt the blade bite, and saw that he had taken one of
its eyes. Then he was flying backwards, his sword dropping from numbed
fingers. He struck the boulder and landed, looking up to see Jenna
engaging the beast. Behind it, he could see a second creature lurking.
It, too, moved on all fours and had lumps protruding from it.
"Another!" he yelled. He frantically scanned for more movement, for
other eyes glaring balefully in the firelight. "I don't see any more!"
"Take the boy!" Jenna yelled as she ducked under a slashing claw.
"Run!" Her blade struck sparks from one of the lumps; it looked like
stone.
Cael scooped Dorian up in one arm. The boy clung to him. He hated
to leave, but he was weaponless and could not feel his right arm. He'd
be useless in a fight, but might have a chance to get away and warn
others about these things. He turned and ran.
Behind him, he heard Jenna cry out. Westerly called her name, and
then the creature bellowed in rage or pain. Cael ran as best as he could
with one arm hanging limp and the boy held in the other. He staggered,
ducking branches, as his legs and lungs began to burn. After a few
moments, he no longer heard the sounds of fighting. All he could hear
was his own labored breathing.
He considered slowing to catch his breath, but Dorian cried out.
"It's behind us!"
Cael picked up speed, not knowing how. He ran headlong, heedless of
the tree limbs whipping his face and the roots grasping at his ankles.
Even over his ragged gasps, he began to hear it, loping behind him,
panting as it ran. It was getting closer.
"Dorian," he managed to gasp, "can you run?"
"Yes," said the boy. His voice was tight with fear.
Cael knew it was desperation. He was selling his life to give the
boy a few moments' head start. He was dead either way, though, so he
might as well give the boy a chance, however slim. Maybe the creatures
would be satisfied with him and the others and decide the boy wasn't
worth chasing. He let Dorian slip from his grasp, making sure he landed
on his feet, even though it meant Cael went sprawling.
"Run!" he cried as he fell. He rolled, feeling something jam hard
into his gut. He landed on hands and knees, facing backwards, finding
himself staring into the eyes of his pursuer. The creature stalked
closer, angling toward him, its eyes never leaving his. Cael's hand went
to the pain in his abdomen, wondering if he was badly injured. Face to
face with this hideous beast, would he die from his fall?
His hand closed around something cold and hard. The stone weapon!
It was still in his belt. He drew it and rose to one knee. The creature
snarled. One of the lumps, embedded or emerging from below the thing's
left eye gave its head a lopsided look. It stopped and looked past Cael,
in the direction Dorian had run.
"Hah!" Cael managed to gasp between heaving breaths. He needed its
full attention on him if the boy was to escape. Reluctantly, the beast
turned back to him. Still panting, Cael got to his feet, brandishing the
broken weapon. It felt awkward in his left hand. With another snarl, it
leaped, closing the distance between them. Cael dodged to one side,
feeling a heavy blow as one claw raked his back, and spun him halfway
around. He landed in a crouch and turned to face it, and then it was on
him. He blocked a blow to his head with his right arm, still half-numb,
and felt one of the bones in his forearm break. He lashed out with the
sword. The blow was weak, but it drew blood, slicing a shallow cut
across the thing's ribs. Cael's vision went gray from the sudden
eruption of pain in his arm, but he shook his head to clear it. Cael
slashed again with the sword and the creature struck at him again. The
weapon struck one of the rocks embedded in its limb. Sparks flew, and
the sword was knocked from his grip. Weaponless, Cael prepared to die.
The creature howled in pain and spun, lashing at the air behind it,
as if at some unseen attacker. As it turned, Cael saw the cause; an
arrow was protruding from the creature's flank. It turned once again to
Cael, and lurched as another arrow struck it, then another. The beast's
head moved wildly about as it searched for its new attacker. It spied
him just as Cael did; Westerly was crouched behind a tree, fitting
another arrow to the string. Ignoring Cael, the creature bounded toward
him. Westerly got off another arrow, but it glanced off one of the
stones. He raised his bow to defend himself. The creature lashed out,
breaking the weapon. Westerly retreated. As it followed, Jenna burst
from hiding, her sword held high in a reverse grip. She buried the blade
up to the hilt in the back of the creature's neck. It spasmed once and
collapsed.
Jenna sat back against a tree, cradling her left arm, which was
torn open and bleeding. Cael dropped to his knees and one hand, fresh
pain flaring in his other arm with the sudden movement. He watched,
chest still heaving, as Westerly tended first to Jenna's wound, binding
it with strips of cloth. Then he crossed to Cael and examined him.
"That arm will need to be set."
Cael nodded, wincing at the thought. "The boy," he gasped. He
tilted his head in the direction Dorian had run. "That way. Should be
easy trail ... for master tracker."
"I'll get him," he said, and stalked off after Dorian.
Cael looked at Jenna, waiting for his breath to return. She, too,
looked utterly spent. Her face was pale beneath a layer of mud and
grime. She gazed back at him. They sat that way for several long
moments. "Bait," he said at last. "You used the boy and me to lure that
thing away."
Jenna didn't flinch. "Straight. It was the best chance for one of
us to survive and to get word back to the duke. Westerly and I could
never have handled two of them at once. We barely survived the first
one."
"And if the third one had attacked?"
"Then we would have been dead either way."
"It's still out there, somewhere."
She nodded. "Far from us, though, I think. It's my guess that it
set these two on us so it could escape."
"Escape to where?"
"Home," she said, "wherever home is. Maybe to warn his people about
us."
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