by Rose Estes
“I know you’re all wondering what this is all about—who this army belongs to and why they are following us,” he began. A loud murmur assured him that this was true.
“There is a lady in yon wagon,” Mika continued. “A lady who lies in a magical sleep from which she cannot be wakened. We have been charged with taking her to Eru-Tovar where there is said to be one who can break the spell.
“It would seem that someone would like to prevent us from reaching the city, but I am pledged to see that she reaches it in safety.”
The nomads leaned from their horses and conversed among themselves with angry murmurs and much gesturing. Mika continued, speaking more loudly to draw their attention.
“We are abandoning the wagon so that we may travel more quickly. We are making for the hills along the southern march. It should take us two days to reach them. We hope to lose the army in the hills and enter the city unharmed.”
“Abandon the woman!” called one of the eastern nomads, a dark, hawk-nosed man unfamiliar to Mika. “Give her to those who follow and spare us a needless death.”
“I have given my word,” said Mika. “I will not leave her.”
The man spat contemptuously on the ground, his comment on the value of Mika’s word.
Mika was spared from answering the silent challenge by the appearance of Hary and Recknass as they emerged from the wagon.
Hary descended first, jumping down lightly, then held his arms out as though willing to take the princess from the giant. But Recknass ignored him, standing tall and straight atop the wagon, staring each of the nomads in the eye, challenging them to deny him and his fragile charge their right to life. None spoke.
Only when he had stared them all down, even the eastern nomad, did he step down, cradling the princess in his arms like a tiny waif.
It would have taken a very brave or a very foolish man to have challenged Recknass, for the giant appeared even larger and more frightening than he had inside the wagon.
His face was now a mass of purple, yellow, and black bruises, and his nose was still flattened against his cheek. He stared at the men with his one good eye. They drew their horses back a step and lowered their eyes, unwilling to aggravate the brute.
Mika had eyes for the princess alone, having seen more than enough of Recknass. But she was completely swaddled in the soft pink coverlet and all that could be seen of her was a few glossy curls.
Hary and the driver Cob passed almost unnoticed in the small drama, fastening bulky trunks and bits of luggage to the sides of the mules that were being unfastened from the wagon.
“What are you doing?” asked Hornsbuck.
“It is the princess’s luggage,” replied Hary. “We cannot leave it behind. She will need it when she wakens.”
“If she wakens,” growled Hornsbuck, striding up to the mules and unceremoniously stripping the luggage from their backs.
“This is no garden party, no pleasure outing. The gnolls and trolls back there will grind your precious princess between their teeth and not appreciate the difference between her sweet flesh and your stringy meat. Mount up and leave this foolishness behind.”
Hary stepped back, dropping the trunk on the ground as though it had burned his fingers. Mika smiled sympathetically, glad that it was not he who was the object of Hornsbuck’s anger.
Recknass strode over to the largest of the mules and, without shifting the princess or even stepping on a stone, threw his leg over the animal’s back and seated himself carefully. The mule sagged beneath the man’s great weight and its legs wobbled as though they might give way.
“That will never do,” muttered Hornsbuck and ordered Marek, who rode a huge roan stallion, to give the animal to the giant. Marek frowned and looked as though he might argue, but at that moment, the wolves began to howl, their tails curled high above their backs. A quick glance behind them told them that the gnolls were gaining rapidly.
The time for talk was done. Marek handed the reins of the roan over to Recknass who mounted and settled the princess across his legs. In a rare mood of concern, Mika rode up next to the giant and handed him the fragile gold chain with the crystal bead that always hung from his neck.
“Take it,” he said, after looking around to see that no one noted the unusual gesture. “Put it around her neck. It has been lucky for me. Perhaps it will bring her luck as well.”
The giant stared suspiciously at Mika. Then, seeing nothing other than honest goodwill, he nodded curdy and slipped the gold chain over the princess’s head.
All around them, men were whipping their mounts into hasty retreat, with the exception of Marek who crawled with ill-concealed bad grace onto the back of the mule. They rode off swiftly, leaving nothing but the empty wagon and a pile of baggage behind.
There was a loud outcry when the army of monsters reached the wagon a short time later. Shrill cries pierced the air, along with furious barking yaps as though the hyenas were fighting over some delectable prize. But it didn’t hold them long.
Mika and Hornsbuck positioned themselves atop a ridge a short time later and looked down on the entire horde.
They were spread out over the plains in a ragtag smear without any sign of order or organization. The hyenas and the larger hyenadons loped at the fringes of the mob, and the shambling figures of the trolls brought up the rear.
A multitude of weapons ranging from great bows to pole arms, long two-handed swords, battle axes, and morning stars were clearly visible.
Here and there, soft pastel bits of silk—the tattered remnants of Julia’s finery—rippled from the tops of barbed pikes or swathed the necks and heads of hairy, slope-browed gnolls. Scarcely three miles separated the vile army from Mika and the others.
“Got to do something,” muttered Mika. “Hornsbuck, do you think we could fire the prairie? It worked on the kobolds, it might work here.”
“Maybe,” said Hornsbuck. “Wind’s coming from the west. It would blow in their direction. It’s worth a try.
Dismounting, Mika and Hornsbuck struck their firestones and lit a grease bush which instantly burst into flames.
“Remount!” cried Hornsbuck as he yanked another bush out of the ground. “We’ll have to do it from horseback; they’re spread out too widely!”
Leaping on his bay in a single bound, Hornsbuck stabbed the point of his sword into the base of the grease bush and then lit it. It flamed instantly, and he kicked his nervous horse into a trot, passing from one bush to the next, lighting them.
Mika followed suit and soon a whole line of grease bushes sputtered and raged, throwing thick black clouds of acrid smoke into the air. They sputtered and popped as the flames devoured them, tossing fiery sparks up to fall on other bushes. The sparse dry grasses and soon the entire prairie behind them were being consumed by the ravenous flames.
“That should keep them for a while,” yelled Mika as he watched the flames being swept toward the gnolls by the intermittent west wind.
“Hah!” yelled Hornsubuck, wearing a wide grin on his bearded face. Shaking loose the flaming remains of their torches, they wheeled their mounts and raced after their fleeing comrades.
They rode as hard and as fast as they could for the remainder of that long evening, leaving the gnolls behind them hidden by a stinking curtain of black smoke. Finally, mules and horses nearly dropping with exhaustion, they were forced to stop.
The land had begun to change. Not that it was any less empty; if anything it had fewer grease bushes and little or no forage for the animals. But there were slight hills now and then, folds in the land and empty stream beds that told of water in other, happier seasons. For now, they were empty and dry and the waterskins were falling dangerously low.
Hoping to escape the sharp night vision of the gnolls, Mika led the party into one of the deepest of the arroyos.
Hornsbuck instructed the men to water the horses and mules and then feed them. Once this was done, they were hobbled and muzzled so that no careless whicker would give the
m away.
The men themselves sprawled against the banks, enervated by their fatigue. Few spoke. Hornsbuck gestured to Mika and led him a short distance away from the temporary camp, peering intently at the ground.
Soon, a slow smile spread over his broad bearded face, and he pointed at the ground. Mika looked down but saw nothing. Tam, however, had no such problem. Shoulder to shoulder, he and RedTail, Hornsbuck’s big male wolf, pawed at the earth beneath the rocky overhang. Earth flew in all directions. Then, ceasing their activities, they crouched low and Mika heard the sound of lapping tongues. The wolves drank their fill and then moved aside and began grooming themselves.
“Water,” said Hornsbuck. Noting the puzzled look on Mika’s face, he laughed. “There’s usually water in places such as this; you just have to know how to look for it. See there—footprints of mice and lizards.”
Looking more closely, Mika could see the tiny footprints in the sand, the curved sign of a dragging tail converging on the hidden water.
“It could save your life sometime,” said Hornsbuck.
“I’ll remember,” said Mika as he knelt to drink.
The water was warm and brackish and thick with sand, but they drank their fill and wiped their wet hands over faces that were tight and cracked from harsh exposure to sun and wind. And it spared them from drawing on their own meager supply of water. When they finished, there was naught left but a hole filled with damp sand. This, Hornsbuck filled with sand and rocks.
“No sense leaving them beasts anything if we can help it,” said Hornsbuck. “They need water same as us. I hope they’re suffering.”
But if they were suffering, it was not apparent. During the night, the army of monsters had circled around the line of fire and could now be clearly seen on the lower slopes.
Drawing strength from the brief respite, the small party mounted and began climbing the steep incline as swiftly as their tired mounts could carry them.
Chapter 13
AND SO BEGAN A LONG PERIOD of hurried flights interspersed with short periods of rest. Eru-Tovar, while only a few days distant, might as well have been on another world, for it seemed that the army of monsters never slept.
They dogged the nomads’ footsteps, following whatever path they chose, whether by night or by day, and they were not deceived by false trails or the most clever of traps.
The nomads tried all of Hornsbuck’s tricks—from deadfalls to sweeping the trail behind them—and they even used one of Mika’s spells of illusion, creating an exceedingly realistic chasm where none had previously existed. But nothing worked.
The gnolls showed an uncanny amount of intelligence for creatures that were not known for their ability to think. It was almost as though they knew what the nomads were planning and were taking steps to anticipate their tactics.
They were well into the hills now and all were glad to see the last of the empty prairies. The hills were barren, mostly stone and hard-packed earth, but here and there were soft green patches of grass and these the mules and horses cropped greedily.
There were also small pools of water to be found, and the nomads did their best to see that these were either emptied or concealed before they moved on.
Everyone was tired. Horses and mules showed their exhaustion in the curved bend of their necks and their slow, shambling gaits. The men rode loosely, often slumbering in the saddle. Even Mika and Hornsbuck felt the lack of sleep in their muscles, which were stiff and slow to respond, and in their eyes, which felt as though sand scraped beneath their swollen lids.
Only Recknass seemed untouched by the lack of sleep and food. His back remained straight and his eyes alert. His arms still held the swaddled princess in a tight embrace, and he glared forbiddingly at any who rode near.
The wolves themselves were showing signs of exhaustion—their tails dragged the ground and their tongues lolled from their mouths dispiritedly. They flung themselves on the ground and panted whenever they stopped, licking their footpads, which were sore and cracked from the rough terrain.
In spite of his promise to Hornsbuck, Mika still thought about Princess Julia. The giant was an abomination. Nothing that ugly should hold someone that beautiful.
Mika thought of Julia as he rode throughout the long endless night. Her delicate beauty filled his mind and the subtle scent of her body lingered in his nostrils. He craved her as he had never craved another woman, even Celia. And the thought of her was the cause of his every action. Just thinking of her dowry filled him with a warm glow. He was determined that he would have her yet.
A sliver of a moon, cold and white, shedding no warmth, rose above the stony hills, allowing them to continue their journey that night. The tramp of many feet could be heard behind them as the gnolls and their foul companions trudged along, following in their still-warm footprints.
Mika dozed fitfully, his hands gripping the reins without feeling, his knees numbly clenching the big barreled chest of the grey, moving automatically in rhythm with its movements. The grey was too tired for tricks. Its head bobbed listlessly at the end of its long neck as it sought out and followed the easiest path.
Mika slipped in and out of slumber, his sluggish brain flickering back and forth between the happy illusion of dreams and the pain of wakefulness. Not surprisingly, his mind chose to rest in the warm pleasantness of the dream state more often than the physical and mental traumas of wakefulness.
Wrapped in his cocoon of illusion, Mika felt the whispery patter of tiny feet on his neck. To his exhausted mind, it seemed the soft caress of Julia’s tiny hand.
Some small corner of his mind which had not surrendered itself to sleep recognized it for what it was. A fly. A tiny black fly . . .
Annoyance flared briefly and Mika thought to raise his hand. To sweep it away. But exhaustion was greater than the effort required, and the moment passed and was gone.
Mika fell into a deep sleep, an ongoing dream of Julia which was far more pleasant to contemplate than the fly.
So deeply immersed was he in the dream, that he barely even noticed when the fly bit him on the neck. His exhausted mind imagined it to be a love bite from Julia, a small hint of what was to come. Her way of showing gratitude for his bravery in single-handedly saving her from the spell and the horrible army of monsters.
The black fly crouched low over the puncture it had made on Mika’s neck, tensing itself for the blow that might fall, readying its tattered black wings for flight, but it had chosen its moment well, and the man did not move.
Soon the fly began pumping a thick, black noxious fluid out of its mouth and down between its hooked mandibles. Directing the flow of the spittle, the fly channeled the awful stuff directly into the open wound.
The spittle entered the wound, thinning the blood on contact, and it quickly entered the man’s bloodstream, where it spread throughout his system until it pervaded every inch of his body, even the heart and mind, with its evil poison.
Mika slept on, dreamed on, unknowing. Satisfied, the fly left the site of the wound and flew off, abandoning the man to his fate.
The tenor of Mika’s dreams changed. He saw Julia in his arms, waiting for him with a sultry, knowing look in her eyes. This was no demure maid bestowing soft kisses, this was a woman using a woman’s body, taking greedily as well as giving freely of her favors. Mika felt her hot flesh roll beneath him, the scorch of breath on his chest and the rake of sharp nails down his back.
Then he wakened, cold and chilled, racked with more than fatigue, and as the grey stumbled up yet another hill, Mika knew with a fevered intensity that whatever the cost, he would have Julia for his own.
Julia controlled his every thought from that point on. The slender sleeping girl locked in Recknass’s arms had little or nothing to do with the woman he saw in his mind’s eye. They were the same, but somehow different.
He had changed. This was obvious to everyone from Hornsbuck to Recknass. He was quick to follow Hornsbuck’s every suggestion. He encouraged the men and
rode point, scouting out the lay of the land ahead, pushing his tired mount and himself to the very limits of endurance.
The giant had little to complain about for it seemed that Mika had found fewer excuses to ride at his side, and he ceased offering to hold the princess should Recknass grow tired. Even Hary noticed the change and mentioned it to Hornsbuck.
“Aye, I have eyes. I can see what is happening,” said Hornsbuck. “Sometimes it happens that way. Trouble can do that to a man, be the making of him. I’ve seen it happen before—a boy growing up before your eyes, becoming a man.”
“More frequently it happens the other way,” said Hary. “Trouble, hard times will reduce a man to jelly, make him useless. Frankly, that is the path I would have expected Mika to take. I did not figure him for leadership.”
“I am surprised as well,” said Hornsbuck, “but glad. I always knew he had it in him. Whether he chose to use it or not was the question.”
“What bothers me,” continued Hary, “is why the gnolls haven’t overtaken us yet. It almost seems as though they’re content to remain behind us. Sort of like they’re driving us forward, herding us.”
“Don’t imagine things that are not there,” replied Hornsbuck. “We’ve just been smarter than they, and we’ve chosen our course. They’re not herding us anywhere.”
As though in reply, the gnolls began to chant. Their voices could be clearly heard even though they themselves were not in sight. The words were indistinguishable. Their tongue was not one spoken by man, but the meaning was obvious.
“HUNhunhun! HUNhunhun! HUNhunhun!” they intoned over and over in deep bass tones, a shrill chorus of hyena and hyenadon wails providing an eerie contralto counterpoint. After a short time, the sound thrummed in the ears of the listener, striking over and over, maddening in its insistent repetition.
The horses and mules tossed their heads and hurried their pace unbidden, breaking out in nervous sweats. The wolves turned and faced the unhuman horde, whimpering softly, their dark eyes darting in all directions as though searching for an escape.