by Alexey Pehov
The last of the four was felled by Hallas. The Firstborn tried to hit the gnome with an ax, but Lucky grabbed hold of the handle and struck the orc on the leg with his mattock. When the Firstborn let go of his ax and fell over on his back, the gnome brought his mattock down on his enemy’s head. The whole battle lasted just over twenty seconds.
“Kli-Kli, pull out your knives and my arrows; everyone else grab these orcs by the arms and drag them well away from the stream,” the elf ordered. “I’ll risk using a little bit of magic, perhaps it will put them off our trail.”
We hid the bodies among the roots of two old oaks that were almost intertwined with each other and then piled a heap of moldy leaves over them. Eel and Hallas went back over the site of the battle and tried to eliminate all traces of blood. Meanwhile Egrassa put some kind of spell on the improvised grave.
“It’s a waste of time,” Mumr sighed, wiping off the blade of his sword with a bundle of leaves. “It looks like it’s been trampled by a herd of mammoths. You can’t put the soil back in place or spread the leaves out again. If only Lady Miralissa was here.…”
* * *
The gods were kind, and for the rest of that day nobody found us. Once Egrassa thought he could hear a distant rumble of drums, but it was only the wind wandering through the branches of the trees that had lost most of their leaves. The stream that had been our escort for the last two days had grown to the size of a small river and the river flowed into a large lake, which we reached in the twilight. The mist and the advancing darkness made it impossible to see the opposite shore.
We settled in for the night beside the lake, making our resting place among the dense growth of tall reeds. It was a restless and very chilly night. Cold gusts of wind swirled through the rustling sea of reeds, chilling me to the marrow of my bones. I woke up several times, shuddering from the cold, and then went back to sleep, but the moment I did, I started dreaming there were orcs creeping through the tall reeds, about to attack us. I woke up again and stared for a long time at the swaying wall of dry grass.
Milord Alistan got us all up when it was still dark and, still shrouded in thick mist, we moved on toward the north.
* * *
By the time it grew light we’d covered quite a distance. The lake was far behind us now, but the cursed mist showed no signs of dissolving in the first rays of the sun, and Zagraba looked like a forest out of some ghost story.
The dark forms of tree trunks loomed up out of the thick mantle of white. Everything around us seemed to be dead or hiding, waiting for the mist to clear out of the forest. The only time I’d heard silence like this in Zagraba was when we were crossing the Red Spinney. And the moment I thought about what had happened there, I seemed to feel a blunt needle jab into my heart. I pulled myself up short and tried not to think about bad things. The last thing I wanted to do was call down the disaster of a h’san’kor on our heads. But the harder I tried not to think about anything frightening, the faster all sorts of unpleasant thoughts came crowding into my head. That blunt needle was still there, and I winced and gasped whenever it jabbed me really hard. Eventually I stopped trying to ignore it and turned to Kli-Kli, who was the first to sense something the last time.
“Kli-Kli, isn’t there anything bothering you?” I asked in a whisper.
She stopped, sniffed at the air, thought for a moment, and replied, “A cold in the nose.”
“That’s not what I mean!” I protested, just a little bit annoyed by her slow-wittedness. “You sensed something was wrong in the Red Spinney, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she agreed. “There was real danger there. But I don’t feel anything like that here. If there’s danger here, it’s perfectly ordinary, and I can’t sense that kind. But you … you’re the Dancer in the Shadows, maybe that’s why.… Deler, go and tell Egrassa that our Harold’s feeling uneasy.”
Deler didn’t argue, in fact he wasn’t even surprised, he just gave me a quick, sharp glance from under his ginger eyebrows and went off to the elf at the front of our group.
But the dwarf didn’t have time to warn anyone. It all happened quickly and very unexpectedly. Shadows with naked yataghans came diving at us out of the mist, another two or three jumped down out of the trees beside our track, and, to top it all, in two places the ground exploded into fountains of leaves as raging beasts emerged from concealed pits. They looked like a cross between a monkey and a wolf. The ambush had been planned brilliantly. They must have been waiting for us for a long time, and this time we were the ones taken by surprise.
“Orcs!” yelled Mumr, swinging his bidenhander down off his shoulder.
“Didre draast! Pu’i edron!” [Take them alive! Apart from the elf!] yelled one of the enemy.
One of the Firstborn blew a small hunting horn and the surprisingly loud sound resounded through the forest, startling the mist. Egrassa’s bow was already in his hands, and the orc dropped his horn and clutched at the arrow sticking out of his chest. But it was too late. Another horn sounded somewhere far away, at the very limit of hearing. Before the battle swept me into its deadly vortex, I had time to see Eel holding off two orcs who were trying to reach Egrassa. Then I had my hands full myself.
Kli-Kli and I were closest to the pits, and the wolf-monkeys came dashing at us, growling. They moved very nimbly, but almost sideways, like crabs. They had gaunt bodies, covered with dirty-yellow fur with reddish patches, an impressive set of wolfish teeth, and heavy collars with metal studs.
“Gruns!” Kli-Kli squeaked, and flung one of her throwing knives at the nearest creature. The knife stuck neatly in the side of the orcs’ beast, which turned a somersault over its head and started twitching, scraping at the soil and the leaves with its paws. The others kept coming at us, not bothered at all by their comrade’s death.
Bang! The loud noise came from behind my back.
Hallas had used his last pistol shot. The sudden sound made one of the gruns stop dead in its tracks, and Deler, who had just polished off his orc, took his small throwing ax out from behind his back and flung it at the beast. The weapon shattered the grun’s head with a dull crunch. But it didn’t kill it. In its pain and fury, the beast fastened its teeth in the leg of the nearest orc.
“Look out!” yelled Kli-Kli.
Purely by instinct, I held the krasta out in front of me, and the grun impaled itself on the sharp blade at full speed. Kli-Kli threw another knife, but not so neatly this time, and it stuck in a beast’s thigh. While it was whining and spinning round on the spot, the ones that were still alive came at me from both sides at once. In desperation I jerked the krasta toward me, freeing the weapon from the heavy body that was stuck on it. One of the gruns leapt through the air, aiming for my throat, and got an arrow in its side. My thanks to Egrassa. The beast crashed into me at full speed and we fell to the ground. I rolled aside smartly, almost losing my spear, and the last of the gruns landed with all four paws on the spot where I had just been lying.
But I hadn’t moved far enough, and the beast just caught me with its front paw. Its claws easily ripped through the jacket, and the only thing that saved me was the chain mail I disliked so much—I was wearing it under the jacket. Ignoring the pain from the blow, I kicked the grun in the face with both feet. The beast whined and went flying off, but somehow it managed to land on its paws and jumped at me again. I was already up on my feet and I had time to prepare myself. The spear met the grun in midair and the Smoky Steel easily sliced the monkey in half. I didn’t even feel any resistance.
Meanwhile Kli-Kli had finished off the wounded grun and was hastily extracting her knives from the bodies. I could hear Milord Alistan’s sword whining somewhere over on the right. Egrassa had swapped his bow for a s’kash and he and Eel were standing back to back, fighting off attacks from orcs who were pressing them hard.
“Behind you, Harold,” they barked at me.
I leapt to one side with no delay. The orc who had been about to slice my head off was obviously terribly upset
by this, and he came blundering straight at me. One of Kli-Kli’s throwing knives whistled through the air, but it hit the center of the Firstborn’s shield, which had a picture of some weird and wonderful bird on it. A spear is longer than a yataghan, and I had a slight advantage—I held the orc off until Kli-Kli threw another knife.
This one hit him in the shoulder. Hit him and bounced off. The orc obviously had armor concealed under his yellow jacket. I slashed at him with the krasta and the orc nimbly covered himself with his round shield, but the Gray One’s spear sliced straight through this obstacle, and the orc’s arm as well. I spun round, and the orc lost his other arm.
“Karade tig su’in tar!”[Dispatch them to the darkness!] someone barked in orcish.
Right, so much for that, but how were the others getting on? Eel and Egrassa were still holding out. I couldn’t see Deler. Mumr was managing to hold three orcs at bay with his wagon shaft of a sword. Hallas had just finished off a Firstborn by smashing his mattock into his face. Kli-Kli was dashing to help Lamplighter.… But Milord Alistan was in trouble. That lad with the spear creeping up behind him was about to skewer our count like a chicken on a spit.
I yelled to attract the orc’s attention and started running with the krasta to help Alistan Markauz. The orc accepted the challenge, grasped his spear with two hands like a staff, and stepped toward me. He struck with the sharp blade on the butt of the shaft, and I was barely fast enough to parry his blows. Trying to counterattack was out of the question. It was a matter of survival. The Firstborn was incredibly agile and he almost caught me in the face with the butt of the spear. I just barely managed to jerk back in time. But in the process I lost my balance and the orc attacked, pushing me away with the center of the shaft between his hands.
I almost fell, and smacked the orc on his fingers with the krasta as hard as I could. The orc howled in pain and let go of the spear with his left hand. I struck at his knees with the shaft of the krasta. My enemy collapsed and I pinned him to the ground without a second thought. Then I pulled the krasta out and hastily looked around.
Milord Alistan was finishing off the last of his opponents. The orc was fending off the blows of the sword with a well-battered shield, but his minutes were already numbered. Kli-Kli seemed to be unhurt. Egrassa and Eel were already hurrying across to help us, after finishing off their opponents. Hallas, who was farthest away from me, was harrying an orc.
The gnome had smashed the yataghan out of the Firstborn’s hand, and now the orc had only a dagger to defend himself. The gnome took a step forward to put paid to his enemy, but stumbled over the body of a grun and lost his balance for a moment. The Firstborn immediately took advantage of the gnome’s blunder. Moving in close to Lucky, he grabbed hold of his beard, pulled the gnome toward himself, and struck at his unprotected face with the dagger.
Lucky fell, bleeding heavily, and the orc raised his dagger for the final blow. I went dashing to help him, although I knew I’d be too late, but Deler beat me to it. With a mighty roar, he flung his terrible poleax at the orc with both hands. The weapon flashed through the air in a glittering circle and crashed into the orc, slicing through his head and upper body.
“Deler, behind you!” Eel shouted, but it was too late.
An orc who was behind Deler struck the dwarf with a short, broad sword that was quite different from the orcs’ usual yataghans. The blow was so powerful that the tip of the sword emerged from the warrior’s chest. The Wild Heart swayed and collapsed to his knees. Before the orc could free his sword, Egrassa took up his bow again and turned him into a pin cushion.
It was all over.
The orc who had stabbed Deler with his sword was the last one. We all rushed to Hallas or Deler. The grun that Egrassa had shot in the side was still alive and whimpering as it tried to reach the arrow with its teeth. I paused for a moment to finish the vicious beast off. The orcs’ hunting horns gave voice again, but this time much closer.
“Oh, light!” Kli-Kli groaned, falling on her knees beside Hallas. “Oh, light! So much blood! So much blood!”
She kept on repeating those words, and there was panic fluttering in her eyes. It was the first time I’d ever seen our jester in such a state.
“Oh, light! How can this be?” the gobliness wailed. There was an orcish dagger with a notched blade lying beside her.
The moment I saw the gnome, I realized he was in a bad way. The blow had struck his right cheek and the notched blade had made an irregular wound. In fact, the whole right side of Hallas’s face was one ragged wound. The orc had struck upward with his weapon and now there was a gaping bloody hole where Lucky’s eye used to be.
And there was blood everywhere. Lots of blood. The gnome was still alive, but he seemed to be unconscious.
Egrassa unceremoniously pushed Kli-Kli aside and started trying to do something, whispering some mumbo-jumbo in orcic and sprinkling yellow powder straight onto the wound.
“Eel! How’s Deler?” croaked Lamplighter, who was fussing over Hallas.
“He’s dying,” was the answer.
“Ah, darkness! Darkness! The darkness take them all!” Mumr howled. “Harold, run over to Eel, maybe there’s still something…”
Without waiting for him to finish, I dashed across to help Eel. Milord Alistan was there, too. The Garrakian hadn’t taken the risk of pulling the sword out of the dwarf’s back—that would have increased the already powerful loss of blood. Deler was conscious and he was trying to say something, but he could only move his lips without making a sound.
“How can we help him?” I asked.
“Only a miracle can help,” Alistan Markauz muttered darkly.
But no miracle happened. A minute later the ginger-haired dwarf died, without having said anything.
“May you dwell in the light,” Eel murmured as he carefully closed Deler’s eyes.
How had we managed to get caught out so badly? Deler was dead, Hallas was at death’s door.
“Harold, we’ll mourn later!” said Eel, thumping me fiercely on the shoulder. “Wake up!”
The Garrakian was right. Mumr had found some clean rags somewhere and he was bandaging the gnome’s wound. The rags were immediately soaked in blood, but after Egrassa’s magical first aid at least the bleeding had slowed down.
Orcish horns on the left warned us that the Firstborn were coming as fast as they could, and they were answered by other horns on the right.
“We haven’t got much time, Mumr,” said Egrassa.
“I know,” the warrior growled as he bound up the gnome’s head. “I’m almost finished!”
“How’s Deler?” the elf asked.
“Dead.”
Kli-Kli gasped and lowered her face into her hands. I patted her on the shoulder, trying to comfort her a little.
“Time to be going! They’ll be here soon!”
“I’m done!” said Lamplighter, with his hands covered with blood. “But he won’t hold on for long. We’ve only postponed the end.”
“We have to hope for the best. There’s no time to make a stretcher, the gnome will have to be carried,” said Alistan.
“Kli-Kli,” I said to the sniffling gobliness. “You take the krasta.”
I had to carry the gnome, because if the orcs caught up with us, the warriors would have to be ready to fight them off.
“You won’t manage on your own,” Lamplighter said. “Eel, you carry my sword.”
The Garrakian nodded and put the bidenhander over his shoulder.
“Here we go, Harold. But in the name of all the gods, be careful!”
We lifted the wounded man cautiously.
“What about Deler?” Kli-Kli sobbed. “Aren’t we going to bury him?”
“We don’t have time for that, goblin. The forest spirits will take care of his body,” Egrassa replied.
Kli-Kli nodded reluctantly and she seemed to shrink somehow. The orcs’ horns called to each other through the mist.
“Let’s go!”
As we
left the battlefield, I cast a final glance at Deler. Eel had attended to the dead man while we were trying to save Hallas. He had pulled out the orc’s sword, set the dwarf’s poleax on his chest, and folded his hands over it. As he walked along, Mumr whispered the words of the funeral song of the Wild Hearts. When we had gone about twenty yards, Kli-Kli suddenly turned round and went dashing back.
“Stop, Kli-Kli,” I barked, but she completely ignored me. “Stop, you fool.”
She came back a minute later, carrying the dwarf’s bowler hat in her hand.
* * *
You can’t run all that fast carrying a wounded gnome, but we were managing pretty well … so far. When my arms were just about ready to fall off, Mumr and I were replaced by Eel and Alistan Markauz. As we moved on, we swapped round again twice, and stopped twice to check on the gnome’s condition. Hallas was still holding on by some miracle, but Egrassa only shook his head in disappointment: “It’s only a matter of hours. Hallas won’t make it through the night.”
“We’ll see about that!” growled Eel, furious with the whole wide world.
“We can’t carry him forever. That way we only make it worse for him.”
“Are you suggesting we abandon him?”
Egrassa’s yellow eyes glinted in fury and he put his hand on the hilt of his crooked knife.
“You forget yourself.” The elf’s tone was very cold.
“The last thing we need now is a duel!” Milord Alistan roared furiously. “Eel!”
Eel worked the muscles in his jaw, but he said, “I’m sorry, Egrassa, I spoke hastily.”
The dark elf gave a slight nod. “I understand. But we can’t go on running forever. The Firstborn are only ten minutes away. We won’t survive another battle like the last one, and they might have bowmen.”
“We’ll have to give battle,” the Garrakian agreed. “Better do it now, before we collapse from exhaustion.”