by K. J. Hargan
Ronenth spun and whipped the paricale out behind him. He quickly cut three garond soldiers in half with its distinctive grinding, clanking sound.
Ronenth could see the fleeing garond getting smaller in the distance.
Keep them off balance, Ronenth thought to himself with a grimace. Let that one go. Focus on those around you.
He spun and let the paricale shoot out like a spear to impale a garond on his right. He pulled at the speared body to give himself momentum, as he wrenched the paricale from the dead garond. With the forward energy, Ronenth whipped the paricale out and killed three more garonds.
Their circle is ragged and they have no leader, Ronenth thought to himself. Let's see how easily they can be fooled.
Ronenth stumbled and let himself fall to his knees, the paricale clattering from his grasp.
Sure enough, the garonds charged the dark haired, glaf boy.
Ronenth grasped the paricale and twirled it up at the surprised garonds, as he rose to his feet, spinning it over his head. Ronenth slaughtered five garonds with his ruse, leaving only five left among the butchered bodies dead on the bloodied sand.
The remaining five garonds spread far out, screeching and barking at each other.
I cannot stay here, Ronenth thought to himself.
He whirled the paricale over his head in a lethal loop to give himself some distance from the garonds, and then walked away from the beach.
Ronenth saw a stand of shrubs near the beach and headed for it, the five remaining garond paced him in a wide circle, neither attacking, nor fleeing.
Ronenth smiled to himself.
He rushed the garond nearest the shrubs, and had that garond pinned with nowhere to escape. But instead of killing the garond, Ronenth turned and caught, with a flash of the silver segments, the three behind him who had rushed to aid their fellow soldier.
Then Ronenth spun and caught the garond he had pinned, who had found his courage and charged. Ronenth played the paricale out, and the end segment embedded in the soldier's head. Ronenth took a moment to extract the end of the paricale and missed the opportunity, the last garond soldier ran for it, like the other garond.
Ronenth frowned. Two got away. He had to find Frea quickly now, reinforcements, if not the whole army would be on him in a matter of moments.
Ronenth gathered his paricale together, and cradling the elvish weapon, marched in a straight line inland, up over the short turf of the Far Grasslands.
Frea could hear the garond soldiers struggling down the narrow passage.
"Is there another way out of this cave?" Frea asked Dond.
Dond quietly shook his shaggy, garond head in fear.
Frea looked about the cave. It held deep, blinding shadows that could be used in ambush. Frea hefted the sword she and Wynnfrith had dug from the earth. The odd, black blade was light, but felt comfortable in her hands. She stepped to Wynnfrith who was standing peacefully still in the center of the cave, holding the dark stone, the Ar.
"We can hide," Frea said, pulling at Wynnfrith. "We can attack from the shadows."
"There is no need," Wynnfrith said with a smile that unnerved Frea.
"Garond soldiers are coming down the tunnel," Frea said again pulling at Wynnfrith. "Mudsang, their deranged religious leader is with them. There is no way out of the cave, except to fight."
"We will be unharmed," Wynnfrith said with certainty. "You may hide if you wish."
Frea wasn't sure what to do. The Ar had honed both her, and Wynnfrith's, instincts and intuition. If Wynnfrith, holding the Heart of the Earth said they would be unharmed, then she should trust her.
But fear was getting the better of Frea. They had never been cornered in the Far Grasslands. There was always the option of running, most humans could easily outrun any garond over long distances, but not here.
Frea stepped back into a shadow. The cave was deep and they could hide, but for how long?
"I'll take them one by one as they come down the passage," Frea said as she faded into a dark corner of the cave.
Dond stood stupidly staring at Wynnfrith.
The first garond soldier grunted his way out of the confining hole into the cave. The shadows of the lone candle Dond had lit played across the painted shapes of the horses, aurochs, and stauers that adorned the cave's walls.
The soldier garond took one step towards Wynnfrith, club raised. Then he stopped. His club dropped to the cave floor with a thud. He seemed to be listening to music. His eyes closed and his head tilted back.
Wynnfrith turned to smile over at Frea where she was hidden.
Two more garond soldiers pushed into the cave with the same results. Initially belligerent, they both dropped their weapons and stood stupefied, in a trance.
Frea could hear Mudsang huffing and exclaiming as he worked his way into the cave.
"Heathens! Unbelievers!" Mudsang called out as he straightened himself, adjusting his crown of upright, red painted feathers.
For a garond, Mudsang was lean, muscular, slightly taller in height, and he shaved the copious fur the average garond grew, giving him an oddly sleek body that he covered in fine oils. His carefully groomed appearance made him resemble a kind of hybrid between garond and human. On his torso were tattooed mystical signs and symbols.
He raised both his arms in an attitude of supplication to the great spirits. His snarling, simian face glowed in the meager radiance of the single candle lighting the immense cavern.
"Those who fight against the Great One, Deifol Hroth, will surely fail," Mudsang intoned with a polished, oratory flourish.
The three garond soldiers who had been in a trance suddenly opened their eyes, but remained still and waiting, clearly frightened and confused.
"What are you waiting for?" Mudsang shouted at the garond soldiers. "Pick up your weapons! Kill the infidels!"
The three garonds were like little children, innocent and afraid. They had been touched by the power of the Ar, while standing on sacred ground, and their souls, so blackened by the Dark One and his priest, had been washed clean. But fear remained. Fear was pervasive, and needed to be confronted moment by moment.
Wynnfrith understood.
She stepped forward and addressed the frightened garond soldiers.
"You may go," she softly said. "No harm will come to you."
The three garond soldiers looked back and forth between Mudsang and Wynnfrith.
"Those who waver in their faith will burn forever in the fires of the next life," Mudsang said with pious venom. "You cannot be with our great Lord, Deifol Hroth, and act against him. Those who fail in their faith will be destroyed in body and soul."
"I wonder," Wynnfrith calmly said, "if your pawns ever get tired of the disease of your words."
Mudsang almost shouted in anger, but controlled himself.
"Seize the human scum," Mudsang said to his soldiers.
One of the three garond soldiers turned and climbed back into the tunnel.
"He will die a most horrible death," Mudsang said of the departed garond soldier to the other two. "There is only one path to redemption, and that is through our Great Dark One. All other gods are false and will lead to destruction. Seize the human."
The two garond soldiers looked at each other, hoping the other would make a decision.
Mudsang picked up a fallen club and swung it hard at one of the hesitating garond soldiers. The soldier didn't make any move to avoid the blow, almost as if he were relieved to be unburdened from having to make a choice.
The slaughtered garond oozed blood onto the smooth white, stone surface of the cave.
Dond emerged from his hiding place.
"You have defiled a sacred place," Dond said with uncharacteristic anger. "You should not have done that."
The remaining garond soldier uneasily picked up a club.
"I truly am sorry for what will happen now," Wynnfrith said, still cradling the Ar in both hands. She slowly closed her eyes and bowed her head.
; Frea stepped from the shadows with her sword up. "Throw down your weapons!" Frea commanded. "You are now our prisoners."
Echoing from the mouth of the tunnel into the cavern, the sounds of fighting from up above rang with the distinctive clanking of the paricale.
"Death to unbelievers!" Mudsang shrieked as he raised his club. Then, the Cave of Animal Spirits came alive.
The paintings of animals in reds, yellows, and browns began to move as though running in place. The spirits of the animals pulled away from the cave wall, glowing an eerie pale, transparent blue. It seemed as though the whole cave was standing still in the middle of a ghostly stampede. At first the apparition of the running animals seemed like smoke, but then they grew more distinct, with greater detail. The scene was intoxicating. Perspective was completely useless. The spirit of an animal that appeared far away easily ran through one of the garond soldier's hands, who pulled his hand away in terror.
All in the cave were shocked to immobility.
The garond soldier dropped his club, but it was too late. The pale blue horns of an auroch spirit sprouted from the garond soldier's chest. There was no blood, but the impact the garond soldier felt was real. The garond soldier twisted with pain, but also seemed to be in a kind of ecstasy, his head back, mouth open. The garond soldier fell to the pale, sandy floor of the cave. Then he seemed to be hit by hundreds of unseen hooves; shaggy doderns that also threw their one long horn as they passed; heavy stauers with crushing hooves; and many aurochs with a merciless flow of many hooves. The garond soldier's body was a bloody, trampled mess laying on the white cave floor.
Dond pulled Frea to the cave wall. Frea could feel the breeze rushing past from the stampeding animal spirits. Some of the doderns eyed her suspiciously with their large, black, ghostly eyes.
Mudsang futilely swung his club at the ethereal forms moving past and around him. His face contorted with fear and indignant rage. The animals seemed to all be small as though they were far away with the weird, altered perspective of the sacred cave. Then, the animal spirits turned, and charged. Mudsang's crown of upright, red feathers fell into his eyes and then from his head as he swung his club harder and harder at thin air. The spirits of the animals momentarily dispersed like wisps of smoke with Mudsang's strokes but quickly reformed and continued their ghostly flight, never moving, running forever in place, an energy of the earth manifest in a hallowed place.
A realization came over Mudsang. He turned to Wynnfrith and raised his club high. He could not harm the animal spirits, but he could kill the human standing before him.
A ghostly dodern horn burst from Mudsang's chest with a splash of blood. Unlike the garond soldier, who died from simply being in the way, the animal spirits actively, aggressively targeted Mudsang. The garond religious leader shook as though he were being carried by the massive one horned dodern, although Mudsang never moved a pace from his original place. His feet raised up off the sand of the cave's floor as he quivered with the ghostly momentum of the spirit animal. Mudsang's face went from a twist of fear to empty slackness.
Mudsang fell to the floor of the cave as more animal spirits gored and crushed him, moving in pale, transparent streams of blue ectoplasm. The violence was so total and quick, Mudsang never had a chance to utter a single sound, other than pained groans.
The last of the animal's spirits moved through the cave. Wynnfrith, who stood stock still in the middle of the ghostly stampede, untouched and unharmed, fell to her knees, exhausted and drained.
"Hello?" a human voice called down through the tunnel into the cave.
"Ronenth!?" Frea cried and scrambled for the mouth of the exit from the cave.
"Frea!" Ronenth's voice echoed with worry. "Have they harmed you? Are you safe?"
"We're safe!" Frea called. "We're coming out!"
Frea and Dond helped Wynnfrith to her feet, and both helped her struggle through the tunnel up to the surface.
Wynnfrith felt Ronenth's strong hands pull her up out of the last length of the tunnel. The air was fresh, and the daylight of the late afternoon was blinding.
"I have a small ship to take us back to Wealdland," Ronenth urgently said. "We must be quick, some garonds have escaped to report our presence."
Wynnfrith looked about at the dozen slaughtered garond soldiers ringing the entrance of the tunnel.
"You did this?" Wynnfrith said in astonishment to Ronenth.
"I saw them standing together," Ronenth said in embarrassment. "I thought they were eating-" Then Ronenth stopped rather than consider his awful conclusion.
"We have to get to the boat, quickly," Frea reiterated. "Can you run, Wynnfrith?"
"I can try," Wynnfrith said. "Will you come with us, Dond?"
Dond shook his head. "My place is here, in my land. Give me your shoes," the garond said to Ronenth.
"I don't-"
"He means to lead them away," Frea said, understanding.
"They will come here," Dond said, "with the larger force. They know of the cave, and know that Mudsang came here."
Ronenth handed his shoes to Dond. "I hope to see you again, friend," Ronenth said. "In more peaceful times."
"Yes, thank you," Dond said. "May you find peace and safety at home. Now go, go!"
Dond pulled a branch full of leaves from a bush and began sweeping the humans foot prints away from the sandy soil.
Ronenth and Frea, each supporting Wynnfrith on either side, ran as quickly as they could for the beach.
Ronenth looked back. He saw Dond pull the small human shoes half way over his large garond feet, and then the garond ran in the opposite direction of the shore.
Ronenth stumbled often, his bare feet catching sharp stones and jutting roots. He had to be extremely careful as he carried the razor sharp paricale curled up in his free arm.
The smell of the ocean wafted over the dunes.
"We're close," Ronenth said. The soughing of the sea could be heard on the salty breeze. The ground became sandier and easier on Ronenth's feet, but harder for traction as the three stumbled on.
The day was overcast, and dull. Heavy, gray clouds hung low, dimming the sunlight to a darkened twilight. A light drizzle began to fall, immediately wetting everything.
As they cleared a sand dune, Ronenth suddenly pulled them down.
"What is it?" Frea whispered.
"Garond soldiers around my boat," Ronenth said.
"Did you see how many?"
"Enough to make leaving difficult."
"There will only be more coming," Frea said with grim determination. "If we are to get back home, we must go now. Wynnfrith, stay behind Ronenth and I."
"It will be better if I go out first," Ronenth said with a smile. "You have not seen me use this." He hefted the paricale with a challenging gleam in his eye.
"Then I will help get Wynnfrith in the boat," Frea said, "if it is still sea worthy."
Ronenth nodded with an understanding frown. The garonds might have already knocked a hole in the hull.
Ronenth took a deep breath, then sharply exhaled. The dark haired glaf boy of sixteen charged over the dune, bellowing a war cry.
Frea and Wynnfrith waited and watched as Ronenth whirled the paricale, fully extended, the metal segments moving in a mesmerizing circle over his head, like a large chain of razor sharp, connected, silver leaves.
"Come," Frea pulled Wynnfrith to her feet. The two women ran several dunes to the north, then out onto the beach.
The majority of garonds charged at Ronenth. There were over fifty, and more marching up the beach, from the south.
"Can you do anything with the Ar?" Frea yelled over to Wynnfrith as they sprinted for the sailboat. Several garond soldiers peeled away from Ronenth and ran at the human women.
"I'll try," Wynnfrith yelled and reached into the leather bundle covering the palm sized, black stone. Wynnfrith immediately stumbled and fell as she made contact with the Ar.
"Get up!" Frea screamed.
Wynnfrith tried to get
to her feet, she felt a quivering power all over her body. She couldn't focus. The whole world was a blur. It felt as though she were being struck with a low intensity lightning, coming up from the earth. Wynnfrith fell again to her knees and vomited.
Frea pulled at Wynnfrith as the first garond soldier came at her swinging his club.
Frea easily dodged the arc of the club and ran her sword into the garond's chest full up to the hilt. She had no time to extract her sword with more garonds attacking. Frea wrenched the long dagger from Wynnfrith and slashed at a garond who pulled up just short enough to keep his throat from being slit. Frea lifted up a foot and kicked off the garond still impaled by her sword. Ten garonds circled Frea, and Wynnfrith who was still on her hands and knees.
"Get to your feet, mother of Arnwylf!" Frea bellowed at Wynnfrith.
Wynnfrith blinked and struggled to her feet. Still clutching the Ar, she raised both hands and screamed to the sky. The sand in a wide circle rippled out like a splash in a pond.
The garonds all around Frea and Wynnfrith were violently heaved high into the air and landed with bone crunching thuds.
Wynnfrith collapsed, unconscious, but with a death grip on the Ar.
Frea tucked the long dagger into her belt, and dragged Wynnfrith to the sailboat, clutching the black sword with her free hand.
Frea could see down the beach a platoon of a hundred or more garonds being led by a large garond, whom she easily recognized even from a distance, Ravensdred. Frea involuntarily shivered. She had been held by the garond general over a year ago. And Ravensdred had made it clear he was going to eat the living flesh right off her body. She still had nightmares about those days.
A little way down the beach, Ronenth was the center of a maelstrom of violence and blood. The paricale was ever in motion, turning, spinning, cutting, slashing. But for every garond cut down, two more replaced him, however none could get close enough to Ronenth land a strike. It was a stalemate that would end with the overwhelming numbers the garonds could eventually bring.
Frea pushed Wynnfrith, still unconscious into the boat. Frea checked that Wynnfrith still had the Ar tightly gripped in her hand. Frea pulled the boat down to the water.