The Krulg tightened its grip and grasped Dean’s throat with a clawed hand. Dean could smell the creature’s foul odor, and its rancid breath was hot on his face. With a growl, it whipped Dean around and smashed him into the tree.
As Dean fell to his knees, the Krulg stepped back and drew a rusted, curved dagger. Dean stared up at the creature, who looked down at him with hate in its eyes. As the beast brought back the weapon, Han bounded from the tree and landed hard on the creature’s head.
With a loud groan, the Krulg fell backward, and Han tumbled on the ground.
“I did it!” Han looked at Dean with a wide grin.
“He’s not out. Help me tie him up. Wait.” Dean unzipped his jacket and pulled his shirt off.
Han rummaged inside his pack and drew out a short length of cord. Dean pulled the shirt over the Krulg’s head.
“Just tie his arms.”
After a few moments, Dean and Han had tied the Krulg’s arms behind its back and lashed a gag in its mouth.
“What’re you doing?” Han looked nervously in the direction of the approaching howls.
“It’s a white shirt. They’ll see him from a mile off. It also has my scent. I’m hoping the Durhunds will follow him, and we won’t have to fight them,” Dean explained.
Dean heaved the Krulg to its feet. It snarled and stared menacingly at him.
“Run.” Dean, pushed the Krulg who just stood and glared back at him. “Run, you stupid jerk,” he ordered again with another shove. But the Krulg just stood and stared blankly.
“Wait a minute,” Han rushed to the base of the tree. He bent down and turned over rocks and branches.
“What are you doing? The Durhunds are almost here.” Dean lowered his sword at the Krulg.
“Here.” Han picked something up and cupped it in his hands. “A Wahelli bug.” He grinned as he held out his hands to Dean to reveal a large, brown bug with big pinchers in the front. “I don’t know if that’s their real name, but that’s what I call them.”
“What are we going to do with it?”
“This.” Han dropped the bug down the Krulg’s pants. “It will make him run.”
As the Krulg yelped and ran around, Han climbed the tree again.
“Good idea.” Dean climbed up after him.
Right after they were up in the tree, the Durhunds appeared. The Krulg’s eyes went wide. It tried to say something but the gag in its mouth muffled the words. The beasts roared and clawed the ground. The Krulg turned and broke into a headlong dash with the Durhunds giving chase. They watched them disappear just as Taviak and six or seven Krulgs crashed through the woods and raced after the barking Durhunds.
After a few minutes, Dean and Han tossed their packs down and scrambled from the tree. They ran in the other direction through the forest. In a mile or so, they came to a large field and slowed their pace.
“It worked.” Han gave a large grin as he patted Dean on the shoulder.
“It wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for your Wahelli bug.” Dean chuckled.
“The Durhunds followed the scent of your shirt. That was smart.”
“I’m just glad it worked.” Dean rubbed his side.
“Actually . . .” Han’s voice rose higher. “It didn’t work for long.” Han pointed as Taviak, on top of his horse, crashed through the brush behind them.
“We meet again, my little fleeing rabbits.” Taviak laughed, and then with a clink, closed the visor on his helmet.
“Split up!” Dean dashed to the right, and Han sprinted for the woods on the left. “After me, tin-can man,” Dean taunted as he flew across the field.
As Han ran, he unslung his bow and tried to nock an arrow. Turning around, he slipped and fell.
Dean saw Taviak change direction and head for Han. Dean turned and raced toward his friend.
The horse’s hooves churned up the ground as it bore down on Han. The lance’s silver tip flashed as it lowered.
Han scrambled to his feet.
Dean knew he couldn’t reach Han in time. He grabbed a rock and threw it as hard as he could.
Han turned to run.
The rock struck against the side of Taviak’s helmet with a clang. The horse pulled to the side, and the lance flew over Han’s head.
Taviak reined the horse to a stop and turned to face Dean.
“Hey, tin-can man. Are you wearing pink under all that armor or what?” Dean sneered.
With a yank on the reins, the horse changed direction and charged straight at Dean.
“I can do this,” Dean muttered. “It’s like the pole at the stream. Except for the four-hundred-pound horse at the end of it . . .”
As the horse thundered down at Dean, everything seemed to slow: the grass flying up behind the hooves, the weaving of the silver lance tip, and the pounding of his heart in his chest. Dean spun sideways, but the lance ripped into his leather jacket. The jacket yanked tight around his body and knocked his breath out of him. The force pulled Dean off his feet. He crashed to the ground and dragged along the dirt.
“The rabbit is snagged.” Taviak laughed as he pushed the head of the lance into the ground.
The horse suddenly whinnied and shied. Dean saw Han grab Taviak’s leg and scramble up behind him. The Elvana grabbed Taviak’s black helmet and, with a grunt, turned it sideways.
Dean grabbed the lance, which Taviak still grasped firmly, and pushed it to the side. With a muffled howl of rage, Taviak tumbled from his mount and crashed onto the ground. Taviak’s helmet came off and rolled along the ground.
The horse reared into the air and Han grasped its neck. He held on for dear life as the horse turned, bucked, and bolted across the field, disappearing into the woods.
Dean pulled the lance free and jumped to his feet as Taviak rose, swearing.
“You’re dead, boy,” he screamed.
“Try to catch me, tin-can man,” Dean jeered as he walked backward.
“I don’t need a horse to kill you.” Taviak bent over, grabbed his helmet, and put it back on. His hand flashed, and a knife whizzed by Dean’s ear.
“You want to throw things? Well, I hope you want to catch them, too.” Dean growled as he heaved a rock that rang off Taviak’s shoulder.
“Stand and die,” Taviak challenged as he ran toward Dean.
“I think I’ll go with run and live.” Dean smirked as he bounced another rock off Taviak’s armor. Howling in rage, Taviak got closer to Dean. Dean pranced backward and threw stone after stone at him. Taviak ran faster, gradually gaining speed. Dean turned around and jogged, then ran, and finally burst into a sprint with Taviak close behind.
Dean dashed into the shelter of the woods with Taviak at his heels. When he turned around, Taviak was nowhere to be seen. The forest was hushed. Dean stayed low and tried to calm his breathing. The woods were completely silent.
A sword swept around the tree, straight at Dean’s neck. He ducked and the blade cut deeply into the tree. Again the sword slashed out, and Dean jumped to the side. Dean swung his silver blade, and it crashed into Taviak’s sword. The sound of metal on metal filled the forest.
“Decided to fight, boy?” Taviak jeered.
“Yeah, because I think you’re wearing a dress under all that fancy armor.”
Taviak screamed, and as his sword crashed and locked with Dean’s, Taviak punched Dean in the face with his gauntleted fist.
Dean spun around and fell on his stomach. His head rang, and a trickle of blood ran from his lip.
“You hit like my nanny,” Dean growled as he rolled, jumped to his feet, and lunged.
Taviak turned the blade to the side. “Insolence,” Taviak howled. His weapon crashed into Dean’s, and the force knocked Dean back to the ground.
Dean landed hard on his back. His hand pressed into the dirt.
“Now die, boy.” Taviak raised his sword over his head.
Dean flung a handful of dirt into Taviak’s visor. Taviak’s hand went to his face, and Dean thrust upward with his sword. T
he silver sword struck Taviak’s armor, sparks flew, and the blade bounced aside.
“Fool.” Taviak laughed. “No blade can pierce my armor.”
“Crud.” Dean rolled to his feet and ran. The forest opened up to a small clearing with a high mound of large rocks and a single tree in the center.
“Stop, rabbit,” Taviak taunted.
Dean sprinted forward but Taviak quickly gained on him. Dean ran for the stone mound. The sides were steep, but Dean grabbed the rock and hurriedly pulled himself up.
“Don’t hide, rabbit,” Taviak sneered as he stopped at the base of the mound.
Dean stood above him, out of the reach of Taviak’s sword. Taviak slowly walked around the base, and Dean kept turning to face him.
“I’m not technically hiding since you know where I am,” Dean said as he tossed another rock.
“You’ve found my weakness, rabbit. I cannot climb. Now I must wait to kill you. Don’t be happy, though. Now you must wait to die.” Taviak walked to the base of the tree and sat down.
Dean scanned the open field. He knew there was no way he could outrun Taviak before getting to the safety of the forest. He was trapped.
“Can I ask you a question?” Dean bent down and picked up a large, round stone.
“You may speak, rabbit.”
“Stop calling me rabbit, tin-can man.”
“Fair enough,” Taviak growled. “What’s your question?”
“Why are you so set on killing me?”
“It’s what I like best. Hunting people down and killing them,” he said plainly.
“I think you need another hobby.”
“Don’t think of running again. I will catch you. Why not just come down and let me kill you?”
“Thank you for the pleasant offer, but I sort of want to stay alive a little longer. If you want to see someone die so badly, why don’t you just fall on your sword?”
“You have a sharp tongue. But you fought well, boy. Who taught you how to fight?” Taviak flipped up his visor.
Dean thought of Panadur and his last words to him before he answered. “My father taught me how to fight.”
“Who is he? Maybe I killed him too.”
“You couldn’t shake a stick at Panadur.”
“Panadur! You’re Panadur’s son?” Taviak jumped up. “Oh, it will be a joy to kill you.”
“Don’t get all excited. I’m not dead yet.”
“You don’t think I could best Panadur? Then you don’t know anything about me, boy. I’ve killed just about every type of creature alive. I used to kill Wardevar, before they died out. Some say I’m the reason that the Leomane are so rare.”
“You should take up fishing. No,” Dean shook his head, “I like fish. Why don’t you plant flowers or something?”
“I’m not just a hunter, boy. I hunt things down and corner them, like you are now. I enjoy seeing them suffer. Sometimes I torture them before I kill them. Sometimes I just watch them die slowly.”
“That’s really creepy. You’ve got issues.” Dean walked to the other side of the mound.
Taviak followed him on the ground. “There was only one thing I hunted down and let live.”
“That was nice of you. How about you make it two?”
Taviak laughed. “I let it live because I was paid to.”
“I have money.” Dean reached in his pocket and pulled out the roll of bills.
Taviak laughed harder. “Paper? You would offer paper for your life?”
Dean pressed his tongue against his cheek. “Great. The only time I have money, and it’s worthless,” he muttered.
“Do you know what it was I caught, Dean? It was your uncle, Carimus.” Taviak suddenly turned and dashed over to the edge of the field.
As Dean tried to see what he was doing, he heard a muffled yell, and then silence. When Taviak reappeared, he was dragging Han. One hand held a knife to the Elvana’s throat and the other closed his black visor.
“It’s time for your friend to die,” Taviak said. “I’ll let you watch.”
“Stop. Let him go, and I’ll come down.”
Han shook his head but whatever he wanted to say, Dean couldn’t hear as Taviak’s hand clamped down on his throat.
Dean climbed down from the rock and walked forward. He held his sword in his left hand and hid a rock in his right hand.
“Let him go. Just you and me.”
“Wonderful!” Taviak flung Han like a rag doll to the ground. Taviak stopped six feet in front of Dean and looked up. The night sky was just starting to lighten. “Dawn. That’s a good time for you to die, boy.”
Dean’s muscles tightened. His arm swung back. With all of his power, he threw the rock at Taviak’s head. The stone flew through the air. Dean sprang forward. The rock slammed into Taviak’s helmet. As Taviak’s head snapped back, his neck was exposed. Dean’s sword flashed as the first rays of morning came into the clearing.
Taviak fell to the ground with a loud thud. Dean stood, panting, and his hand trembled.
“Is he dead?” Han scurried away from the body.
“Dead as a doornail.”
“Are you sure?”
“The guy doesn’t have a head. Usually when you don’t have a head, you’re dead.”
“Are you okay?”
Dean shook his head. “I never killed anyone.”
“You killed the Krulgs.”
“They were monsters.” Dean wiped the blood from his sword on the grass.
Han looked down at Taviak’s corpse. “He was a monster, too, Dean.”
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
“The horse got away, but I got our packs. They’re in the woods.” Han gave a small smile.
“Nice work.”
“Thank you.” Han walked beside Dean. “I mean . . . thank you for saving my life. If you hadn’t thrown that rock . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve been saving my neck too,” Dean said. “Was that a throw or was that a throw? I was just like Babe Ruth.” Dean laughed as they walked into the woods.
“You weren’t like a little girl. You were great!”
“What? A little girl?” Dean wrinkled his nose.
“Baby Ruth,” Han said.
“No. Babe Ruth. He’s a guy. He’s a baseball player.” Dean laughed.
“Baseball?” Han asked.
“It’s a game. Baseball. Apple pie. Hot dogs. Baseball.”
“Hot dogs?” Han asked, now looking very confused.
“You eat them.”
“Dogs? They eat dogs in the Heavens?” Han shrieked.
“They don’t eat dogs in the Heavens.”
“That’s what you said.”
“I didn’t . . . Oh, skip it.”
“Oh, skip it. That’s what you always say. Oh, skip it. I just want you to know if I go to the Heavens, I’m not going to eat a dog.” Han turned to face Dean, who burst out laughing.
“Don’t worry, you won’t go to the Heavens,” Dean said, and Han’s mouth fell open.
“I won’t go to Heaven?”
“No. I mean, you will someday. Not my Heavens but the Heaven. You know what I mean?”
Han shook his head and looked dejectedly down at the ground.
“Don’t get all bummed out. When I go back, you’ll come to the Heavens with me, I promise.” Dean held up a hand.
“I knew you were from the Heavens.” Han laughed and then took off running as Dean chased him into the woods.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Midget Viking
The Dwarves all stood in a battle line with their massive two-headed battle-axes in their hands and their metal shields slung over their broad backs. A new wave of Krulgs approached them, led by Varlugs, the creatures’ larger brethren who stood nearly eight feet tall. Both sides had taken heavy losses in the earlier attacks; the wicked beasts lost far more, but they had the advantage of numbers on their side, outnumbering the Dwarve
s nearly four to one. The field before them was littered with the dead of both sides. The ground turned a sickly red. The sky was in shadow, and the lack of wind stirred the smell of death now hanging in the air as thick as the darkest fog.
“Bravic, my brother, if I fail to make it through this next attack, I leave to you my belongings.” A tall Dwarf, nearly five feet, laid his hand down on a smaller Dwarf’s armored shoulder.
“We’ll both survive, Braga. We’ll make it through all of this. Besides, you haven’t got anything except me.” The smaller Dwarf chuckled.
The two turned back to overlook the field and braced themselves for the awaited battle horn. Bravic stood with his short, stocky legs set. He had brown eyes and long dark hair that he tied back. His hair was nearly as long as the braided beard that rested on his chest plate. His leather boots, fringed with fur, were over his leather breeches; his gray metal shield was strapped to his back, and in his thick hands was a long, two-headed battle-axe. As the Dwarven horn echoed rich and deep through the mountains, both sides swarmed forward like waves smashing against the rocks.
The Dwarves cried their deep, rich battle cry, and the creatures answered with their wicked guttural screams. At the front of the ranks of the Krulgs, flanked by Varlugs, rode a Tearog, a demon warrior. The creature’s features seemed almost human except for its deathly pale skin and slanted black eyes. It wore midnight black armor with a black moon on its huge shield. It was much larger than any man. When it stood, it was over seven feet tall, but now was riding a beast. The animal was a Ravinulk. It had the body of a huge wolf with the head of a dragon.
As the two fronts clashed, their weapons crackled like lightning, their screams of death echoed like thunder, and their blood poured down like rain. The Dwarves’ line swept around both sides of the approaching force, but the Varlugs, led by the Tearog, ripped into the middle of the Dwarf formation to split it in two. As Dwarf, Krulg, and Varlug fell, the cloud of dust from the dry earth grew thicker, and the sun grew fainter. The two Dwarven brothers stood back to back. All around them lay a ring of fallen enemies. Braga blew his horn to rally the Dwarves to attack with renewed fury. The Dwarves came together, and again the creatures started to retreat. The Dwarves fought to drive the Krulgs back.
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