by Keith Ahrens
26
Each step is getting harder than the last. My right leg is numb now and threatening to buckle with each step. I'm losing speed and can't seem to draw enough air to fill my lungs. Panting hard, my chest feels constricted by my armored breastplate. Sweat is now running like a salty rain down my face and my back. That damn water dragon is relentless. He's hounding my steps and gaining ground while I tire.
There! Up ahead of me, I finally see what I've been looking for—a thick copse of old-growth trees. Maybe fifty yards, tough to tell in the darkness and with the lack of oxygen. I might have to rethink my stance on 'cardio' when this is all said and done.
I dig deep for my second wind, or is it my third wind? Whatever. I grab whatever willpower I have left, put my head down, and give it an extra burst of speed. As I get closer to the grove, I notice it spreads further to either side than I can see in the gloom, and it seems to go back quite a ways. Perfect.
Now that I'm no longer zig-zagging, that damn dragon is catching up again, also picking up some speed. For a change, that’ll work in my favor—I hope. It’s close enough now that I can hear air whistling through its ruined nostrils. It might be my imagination, but I can almost feel its fetid breath on my legs. Looking back would only slow me down, so I concentrate on just running.
My boots are ripping up loam and small plants as I leap over thin logs and stumble through unseen depressions in the ground. Twenty-five yards or so to go and a loud hissing growl from behind almost makes me miss my footing. This helps to motivate me to run even faster.
At ten yards out, the thing takes a fast swipe at my legs with its clawed foot. I dodge more from luck as I catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. A quick leap to my right and the dragon pulps a small tree instead of me.
Five yards to go, I pull out the absolute last of my reserves. Still at full speed, I plant my left foot on a fallen log and launch myself up and between the thick boles of two ancient oak trees. And promptly ricochet off the next tree. I take the impact on my right shoulder and spin off into the darkness of the forest.
I lose track of all the new and exciting bruises I'm picking up while tumbling through the trees and down the hill. Of course, the ground sharply slopes downward here, so I manage to hit every rock, root, and tree on the way to the bottom of this shallow gully. Somewhere during the uncontrolled tumble, I feel that strange weight rip from my back. At first, I think it’s my armor, but then I hit my shoulder on a rock and feel the familiar bang and dent of my coverings.
I roll to a stop on my back, breathing heavily and staring up at the treetops, my head spinning. Loud splintering and frustrated roars echo through the trees. I'm shot with no energy to even roll over. I just lay there for a few minutes, listening to the water dragon try to bash through tough old, large hardwood trees. Small twigs and dead leaves fall from the branches above me, sprinkling the small clearing I'm reposing in. I can still move my feet, but both legs have currently gone numb.
I hear a low groan coming from somewhere off to my left. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not coming from me.
I stay still and try to quiet my breathing. Not easy to do since my lungs are burning. My legs are dead weights, and every inch of my body is swollen and bruised.
Soft mutterings in Elvish reach my ears. Dammit, I can't handle another fight right now. I'm not sure I can walk or even stand, for that matter. My whole plan was to just lie here in hopes that the water dragon would get bored and wander away. Hey, it’s the best plan I got. Don't judge me. Now, that may not be an option.
Loud rustlings of dried leaves and a dragging noise are followed closely by a thump. It sounds like someone crawling and then falling again. I turn my head in that direction, but any other sounds are covered up by the raging of the dragon. I move my hand to my belt and feel the familiar handle of my mace, still hanging from the steel ring.
As I squint into the darkness, trying to see anything, a soft light begins to glow. Its yellow-orange radiance fills the area like a late sunset. I get a clean look at the charred face of the fire mage I just fought and left for dragon food.
The pieces click into place—the fire raining down from the trees when I turned to run, and at the time, I figured it was just blowback from whatever spell he threw at the reptile. Then, of course, there was the strange weight on my back, the one that got heavier all the time but fell away when I hit that tree. The son of a bitch hitched a ride on my back! He turned himself into a fireball and latched onto my armor. In retrospect, I guess that’s why the flames didn't burn my flesh; he needed me alive.
In the few moments it takes me to come to this conclusion, the light brightens and casts strange shadows through the shallow clearing. It also alerts the damn dragon as to where we are. The beast renews its screams and attacks with more ferocity through the trees, eager to get at us. A loud crack sounds, I look up to see a moderately huge tree snap into splinters and topple down.
“Put out that light, you moron!” I hiss at him, as I try to roll to my feet. I get as far as my knees when the pain in my back halts any further movement.
He tries to focus his eyes on me, and then I see his face go pale under the charring and soot. It’s good to be recognized.
The elf is down on his hands and knees, huddled over a small crystal that he cradles in his right hand. He leans back and fumbles at his robes before producing a small dagger.
I sigh and point at his lit crystal and then emphatically point back up the hill in the direction of the water dragon. As if on cue, it roars again and knocks down another tree. This one falls closer to our direction, and we’re treated to a small spray of leaves and branches.
“Put. Out. That. Damn. Light! Idiot!” I say and point again at the glowing stone.
“I speak your language, you shaved primate! Do not speak to me in such a manner!” he sneers. Great, I hurt his feelings.
“Then use your damn head! That light is attracting the dragon. Extinguish it!”
He continues to stare me down as he gets to his feet, the dagger held upright in his fist. I use my mace as a crutch and bringing myself back to a standing position. It occurs to me that if this guy had any juice left, he would've just roasted me where I am. I'm thinking those big blasts of fire used up all his reserves. He's running on fumes, just like me. Rock beats scissors, mace beats dagger.
Assuming a fighting stance sends hot wires of pain from my lower back down to my leg. I can only hope his burns are hurting him just as much. He stands, facing me with his dagger leading like a fencer, the light held behind him, casting his face into shadows.
A mere five yards separate us, just outside striking distance for him; I can cover it in a step or two and have plenty of room to swing my mace. We both stay in place, each of us waiting for the other to make a move.
Except, the water dragon makes the first move. With a bone-shaking roar and the pounding of its tremendous paws, it crashes hard into the few remaining large oaks and topples them like dominoes. Our world now consists of flying branches and hundreds of feet of old trees crashing all around us. Leaves and small branches cloud the air, and splinters fly like flechettes from a shotgun.
In the confusion, I bump into the elf while we are both dodging timbers. A lizard screech rips through the air above us, and we both turn to look. The water dragon, face mangled and burned, stands on the rise above us. A few measly smaller trees are now all that separate us from the beast.
The elf grabs my arm and says, “Run!” Then he tosses the glowing stone toward the slavering creature. It lands on a fallen bole and bounces once and then cracks. In the blink of an eye, it erupts in a geyser of white-hot flame.
The flames spray out high in the air and splash like water. Every tree and leaf it touches ignites, and the fire begins to spread through the dried leaves underfoot, and fast!
I look back and see the elf climbing up the hillside away from the fire. I don't need another hint, and I take off after him. If that fire keeps increasing at
this rate, it could overwhelm us with ease. And, of course, fire climbs up faster than it travels down hills. I ignore my body's pains and protests, moving as fast as I can after the elf.
It’s already getting hotter around here.
Haynes, Olivia, And Jesse
Jesse halts his horse and dismounts a safe distance from the burning trees and foliage. The wagon clatters to a stop behind him, the team of four horses nervously dancing at the sight of the fire.
“Sergeant! The clearing should be just beyond yon fire. Then an open hundred yards to the stockade. We mustn't tarry; the moon hangs low,” Jesse points up to the moon as it makes its slow crawl toward the horizon.
“Okay, cut the horses loose; we have to blaze a trail around that fire. Everybody off the wagon! We go on foot from here. When we hit the clearing, spread out and move fast, no clumping together. Jesse, you’re on point. Grayson, take rear-guard and don't let anyone sneak up on us. Move out!” orders Haynes.
Using his saber, Jesse begins hacking away at the dense foliage to make a trail. He cuts a path that just skirts the edge of the conflagration. The live, wet plants don't burn very well, so the fires seem to be winding down on their own.
The group trudges quickly in a single file line over the rough-cut trail, each person alert and straining to hear or see any sign of trouble. A few glance up at the waning globe of the moon, an obvious reminder of how little time they have left.
Haynes holds up a closed fist at shoulder height to call a halt; they've reached the edge of the clearing. He crouches down on one knee to assess the scene. Pieces of burning rubble lay scattered across the field. Closer to the wooden stockade, bodies and parts of bodies lie among the debris. The bodies of the ogres and goblins are dwarfed by the massive corpses of six water dragons, all in various states of decay and wholeness. The stockade wall itself is still smoldering in places and is incapable of keeping a stiff breeze out, much less a determined group.
The bonfires keep burning and throwing stark shadows beyond the sundered gate. Yet, there's no movement on the field, nor on what’s left of the walls.
Haynes beckons Jesse over and says to him, “Jesse, sorry to ask this of you, but I need to send you and Olivia across to scout the wall. I don't see any remaining defenders, but that doesn't mean they're not some hiding up there.”
Jesse nods and replies, “Aye, I haven't a worry working with the lass. Tough as pig iron, that one.” He gestures to Olivia, and the ESU officer joins them, crouching down with the two men.
“Pig iron?” she asks with a sarcastic grin.
Haynes ignores her comment but says, “You and Jesse are gonna do a fast recon of the wall. Just a look, don't engage if you don't have to. Any sign of trouble, you hightail it back here in one piece. I'll have Vince cover you. Stay low and move fast.”
“Just make sure that a-hole doesn't shoot us in the back, okay?” she says with a crooked grin. She pulls a small bearded ax from her belt and gets a good grip on the three-foot haft before looking at Jesse. “Ready to go when you are.”
The Sergeant scans the field one more time and then nods to his two scouts. “All right, move out.”
Without another word, the pair step from the concealment of the trees and out into the open. They spread out about two arm's length from each other and crouch low, but move swiftly as ordered.
The pair make it about three-quarters of the way across when they encounter the first body. Jesse moves close enough to kick it and jump back, pistol leveled, waiting for a reaction. The body doesn't stir after a moment, so they move on. They 'kick-test’ a few more just to be sure, but it looks as if the dragons left no one alive. They hit the wall at a slow run and throw their backs to it, each one on either side of the sundered gate. Soot and embers rain down on them. Jesse pokes his head around the corner to take a fast look and pulls back right away. He glances at Olivia and shakes his head, so she risks a look as well.
She turns back and shakes her head with a shrug. “Looks all clear,” she whispers to her partner. He nods in agreement and then leaves the cover of the wall. Walking in front of the bonfire, he stands tall and waves both arms above his head, signaling the others that it is 'all clear' and safe to cross.
The back-lighting of the fire makes it easy for the others to see him, but it also makes it easy for a goblin archer to pick him out. A bolt flies too fast to spot, but the dull bang of it passing through Jesse's armor and the meaty thud of it tunneling through flesh is clearly heard.
“Oh, bloody hell.” With a curious look, Jesse glances over his shoulder and stares at the fletching with bemusement. The bolt sticking out from his right shoulder at a downward angle, he slumps to his knees. Slowly and carefully, he takes the pistol from his own right hand and tosses it over to Olivia. “Here, Lass. I fear I cannot use it myself just now.”
She catches it on the fly and disappears behind the stockade wall. Pistol raised in front of her, she rounds the corner and races up the crude staircase leading to the top of the wall.
Gun barrel leading, she dashes up to the walkway and fires two quick shots. The heavy gun bucks in her hand as the reports thunder across the walkway. The first misses, the second catches the goblin as he's struggling to reload his crossbow. Its thin chest implodes, and the body flies off the wall, screaming until it impacts with the ground.
A furtive movement in the shadows causes her to fire another two rounds. She’s rewarded by a hiss of pain and another body falling. It lands, motionless, in front of her, so she kicks it hard in the skull, just to make sure. Then she spins around to cover the rest of the wall. No other targets present themselves as the sounds of the black-powder shots echo and fade. Olivia glances over the barrier just in time to see the rest of the group reach the entrance to the cavern. They grab Jesse and drag him to cover at the base of the stockade.
Urgent voices argue back and forth for a moment until Thorn ends it with a harsh word. “Poison!”
She holds up a bolt taken from the dead goblin's quiver. A black smear glistens in the firelight. “Get his armor off, quickly!”
Haynes and Des work to undo the straps holding the breastplate to the pauldrons on the shoulder. Des carefully snaps the bolt off and lifts the armor plate over the stub.
The petite elf grabs Jesse's shirt and tears it away from the wound, careful not to jostle the arrow. “The wound is shallow; the bolt lies above the bone. I can remove it easily with a sharp blade, but the flesh and muscle already fester with poison and rot!”
“Well, just heal it, and let’s go already!” snaps Vince as he scans the field.
“I can heal the wound easily enough, you dolt. It is the poison that will take a lot more work. I cannot neutralize it with magic alone, I must have time to fashion a poultice and an elixir if he is to have a chance.”
Haynes looks up at the moon. “I don't think we have that kind of time right now. The moon is almost set. Can you stabilize him for now?”
She thinks for a moment. “I can isolate and hold the poison for a time, but it must be removed and neutralized before he can be healed. It is foreign matter. It will only fester and spread until it is all removed. But I will be able to hold it briefly, perhaps an hour or two, but no more. Toxins are tricky and elusive.”
“Okay, do what you can, quickly for now, and finish it on the other side. Everyone, spread out and cover the area until she's done.”
Olivia rejoins the group and kneels next to Jesse. Without a word, she pulls his satchel off his shoulder and begins rummaging through it. A moment later, she is reloading the pistol with fresh powder and bullets.
Thorn concentrates and begins chanting. With one finger, she draws intricate sigils on Jesse's chest. Each stroke of her finger leaves a faint glowing silver line. Every time she repeats it, the glow grows brighter and more solid.
Jimmy points out into the field. “Movement to the left! I can't make it out though.”
Vince steps up and fires an arrow. A surprised yelp echoes across the fie
ld, followed by an angry growl.
“Stand down, Vince! Hold your fire; it’s the Gnolls!” Haynes calls out, seeing their fellows returning.
“Oh, shit, I didn't know!”
The Gnolls enter the circle of light, crouched on all fours, moving more like hunting dogs than as men. Nian stalks up to Vince, four sets of claws digging gouges in the dirt. Teeth bared, he stands up tall and close to the bowman, noses almost touching. Looking down into Vince's eyes, he issues a low, soft growl. Vince stands frozen in place but gets knocked back a few steps when the annoyed Gnoll thrusts the arrow sideways back at Vince. “You missed, human.”
“Break it up," Haynes tries to de-escalate the moment before any more unnecessary violence happens. "Nian, report?”
Nian holds his stare for another few heartbeats, then says, “We lost his trail after he was separated from his horse. The smell of fire and burning masked all other scents. The ground was trampled by too many dragons; the stench of their death and rot is overwhelming. We… we could not find him.” He states the last words almost ashamed.
“Y'all did what you could, boys. Don't be so hard on yourselves,” Des says, glancing up at the moon. “Maybe we got enough time to make another pass around the clearing?”
Everyone looks to Haynes, but no one speaks. A heavy silence blankets the group, each keeping their own council, some fearing the answer, others ashamed at their own thoughts. No one wants to miss the gate home, but neither does anyone want to leave their friend behind. Haynes stares at the moon for a minute, and then his face firms with a decision. His eyes go hard, and his jaw is set with resolve.
“Olivia, Grayson, Colt, Jimmy and Thirax, scout out this cave and find us the gate. We don't want any more surprises in there. Thorn, stay with Jesse and do what you can. Nian and Des, make a fast sweep of the perimeter; call out if you find anything. Ten minutes, max. If you’re not back, we're gonna have to leave without you as well. Get me? Let’s go, people, move out!”