by Vance Moore
The pack was converging on her, and Pianna spun the unicorn on its rear legs to ride free. She killed an attacker as it tried to duck under her steed. Another wolf tried to hamstring her mount, but the invoked armor defeated its teeth. More converged, but the unicorn's acceleration stopped them from being buried by the pack. One beast nearly defeated the captain as it clambered on top of its fellows and leaped to snatch Pianna from the saddle. The unicorn reacted to the captain's sudden signal and turned again, flattening into an all-out run. The wolf's outstretched paws hooked her quiver and tore it open. It was only the strength of the unicorn and the semi-locking stirrups that prevented the leader of the Order from being dragged to the ground.
The unicorn's pace took it out of danger, but Pianna hauled her steed about, looking to see if the pack still followed. The wolves were turning back to the men at the base of the tree. The branches looked overloaded, and desperate loggers cut the ropes to the ground, spilling a few straggling climbers. One person in the crown had a light crossbow and loosed a bolt. The projectile did nothing more than return the wolves' attention back to the encircled woodsmen. Pianna cursed the man's vain attempts even as she circled her steed and raised more power. She was not as strong as her lieutenant in the mystic arts, but bursts of power left her bow despite her lack of arrows.
More of the canines dropped, the shafts of energy burning away limbs and exploding inside the animals. Many of the crippled animals were torn apart by their fellows as the beasts raged out of control. In a second, the circle around the tree was breached, and the men on the ground died, despite the captain's flurry of arrows and rain of impromptu weapons from the loggers above.
The animals were insane killing machines, snapping at everything. Pianna turned her steed to ride out of danger now that the men on the ground were dead. A branch broke, and two men fell to their deaths. Each extracted a measure of vengeance as they crushed the wolves they landed on, but they died by the jaws of the others. The captain's arrows swept the successful killers away, but the pack did not turn. The animals threw themselves against the tree, which shuddered, revealing the rottenness at its core. Pianna saw the despair on the loggers' faces and sent the unicorn forward once more.
The captain's bow shot shards of pure energy, but she paid a steep price for each shot. Pianna's skill as a archer created arrows that enhanced her power in concert with her spirit, bow, and bracer. Now the magic flowed like a river and drained away the mystic armor from her legs and steed.
She was surrounded now, using her magnificent bow as a club until it was dragged away by foamy jaws. Her sword arced out and cut down the wolf that thought her helpless. Now bare steel carved into the pack as Pianna directed all her power into armor. The mesh of power over her and her steed grew as tattered as lace as her last reserves of strength drained away. The silence of the battle made it seem a dream as she readied herself for death.
A shower of javelins and spears fell from the sky, promising life like spring's first rain. Pianna drove toward the tree, her sword cutting through the snarling wall as more weapons plummeted from above. At last she was through and turned her steed, backing into the rotting cavity of the trunk. The armor on the unicorn flanks evaporated. Now only a thin web of armor on the unicorn's neck and fore-quarters offered resistance to the dire wolves' teeth. But that thin protection was enough as an Order aerial unit came to the rescue.
Griffins dived from the sky, their shrieks of rage lost in the whisper trees. Another flight of javelins stabbed into the wolves as the soldiers used the last of their throwing weapons and closed with the pack. Talons flashed. The fliers snatched up the maddened animals. Beaks and swords were red with blood, and the flying steeds and their riders pulled clear. Other griffins landed out in the clearing and advanced on the tattered edges of the pack.
The elite soldiers swung long flails and maces. The wolves turned to overwhelm the reinforcements. Bones exploded as the enhanced weapons swatted the animals away. Some of the animals tried to run, but most closed with the fighters. The fresh mages were encased in magical power and nearly immune to the dire wolves. The detachment reaped the clearing free of their opponents, the furry bodies pinwheeling away. A few mounted archers overhead unleashed waves of mystic arrows, peppering the wolves in front of the tree that still tried to reach Pianna. The loggers overhead might have screamed with joy, but the captain could only guess, for the whisper trees smothered every sound. Pianna's magic faded away, but the battle was over, and the pack broke apart.
A few remaining wolves fled deeper into the wood, the trees preventing aerial pursuit. Many of her command dismounted, but Pianna sent her tiring beast in front of her rescuers. Using battle sign, she directed them to help the wounded woodsmen. They obeyed, the power that armored them fading as they prepared to heal those still hanging onto life.
She waved for the leader of the griffin riders to follow and took the unicorn away from the whisper trees, the sounds of the plains once more in her ears as she left their sphere of influence.
"Sergeant Paige," Pianna said, her arms feeling the burn of her archery, "what of the villages nearby?" The griffin riders, due to their speed, were the premier scouts of the Order.
"Captain," he replied, coughing up dust, "the villages have all been set upon by creatures of the wood. Bears and other monsters are common, and there are rumors of great beasts annihilating everything in their way. We escorted those willing to come to the fort before returning to check on you." The soldier showed the irritation that all sergeants had with too-brave officers. "You were fortunate that we arrived to…" He paused, his lined face working as he considered her bland expression. "… support your charge, Captain. I am sure you were moments from victory." "In protecting those under my care, there is no choice, Paige," Pianna answered. "We need to get these people back to the fort if their village is evacuated." She considered the wagons rolling away now from the whisper trees. "But how many we can move away from danger, I just don't know."
*****
Despite its crude construction, the fort looked like heaven to Pianna. The walls were nothing more than upended logs, standing only fifteen feet high. Clumps of longer trunks provided cover for archers, but it was nothing compared to the mighty ramparts of other Order fortresses. The fort was on a broad rise, surrounded by a dry moat and the wooden wall. An artificial hill rose some seventy feet, and it was capped by a large tower providing the final refuge from assault. The tower was constructed of treated timbers, and the Order's sigil flew from the top of pole.
Any cover would be welcome, for madness seemed to grip almost every animal of the forest. Large predators attacked, even though instinct should have sent them miles from such a large gathering. Groups of normally solitary hunters erupted from the grass and were fought off only when almost all were dead. The villagers' accompanying herds of livestock were ignored, their owners the targets of tooth and claw.
The gates were open, and Pianna and her party rode into the fort. It became nearly impossible to move, the numbers of refugees filling the enclosure. Soldiers stood on scaffolding along the walls, runners moving on the elevated paths rather than daring the tangle of people. Many of those seeking shelter inside the walls were woodsmen and loggers. Their glassy faces showing the shock of being driven from their homes. Children ran and played among the tumult with the easy care that youth could bring, while their parents and guardians were too numb to rein them in. Traders and merchants of all descriptions sat with their goods piled high. Pianna resolved to cache such cargoes outside the walls. A group of hunters stood by, their clothing and manner marking them as Cabal minions. They laughed at the crowd, and each shocked face going by provoked a new burst of merriment.
The keys and chains in their stack of gear told the captain they were pit hunters. The Cabal paid well for a fresh flow of creatures from around the continent. Pianna had, in scouting the forest edge, come across the leavings of such beast caravans. Starved and sick animals were abandoned without even the
benefit of death. The predators trailing such columns lost their fear of people and associated them with food.
The group noticed her regard and grew silent, then turned and looked in other directions until her attention was diverted. The Order was pledged to protect all peaceable people on the plains, and the Cabal was careful to obey the letter of the law.
Orderlies made their way through the crowd, moving toward the wagons of wounded to conduct them to the healers. Pianna wondered bleakly how many had died on the way to the fort. Her warriors tried vainly to magically heal wounds when the bulk of their training was inflicting them. She was unable to have a healer flown out because of the current crush in the other Order holds.
The captain dismounted, her hand pressing against her steed's side as the unicorn was finally led away. The stables were full of refugees, so the animals were being picketed outside. The griffins screamed, so all could hear their displeasure at being refused their own stalls.
Pianna headed for the gatehouse. The officer in charge of the fort rose to his feet, giving her a salute that she returned absently. A sack of beer lay on the table, and she filled an empty flagon and washed down the dust of the road.
"Sergeant Sumer," she said, her voice raspy from herding a column of refugees, "what news?" She wiped her eyes, clearing away dirt and wondering if the bathhouse was plugged with asylum seekers as well.
"Not much of a change since this morning," the sergeant answered, a long scar down his face created the illusion of a leer. "The refugees are still coming in, and all reports confirm widespread attacks." He turned to the map behind the table, a cluster of pins showing attacks and sightings of animals. It appeared random, and the sergeant tapped the blank spaces representing the forest's interior.
"These attacks might presage an attack by the western tribes," he opinioned. Pianna's snort of disbelief punctured the soldier's theory.
"I see no benefit to the forest folk in arousing our defenses and clearing the villages of hostages against our behavior," she said, reining in the temper which the journey had roused. "The random nature of the attacks mean we are looking everywhere. Whatever is directing these attacks is doing so for no benefit other than destruction." She walked around the desk and considered the map more closely.
"The only pattern these attacks have is that they radiate from the Krosan forest." Pianna thought of the patrols that scoured the edge of the woodlands. "Perhaps the focus of these troubles lies elsewhere." She looked to the southern reaches of the map.
"Is there any word of Lieutenant Kirtar?" she asked, thinking how valuable he and the other aven would be.
"There was a dragon attack which he defeated, and he says he will be back after sweeping the southern sectors." The sergeant's faint tone of distaste reminded Pianna that many considered Kirtar and his bird warriors to be arrogant and abrasive.
"He is your superior officer, and he and his people have power we need." She regretted that most of the lieutenant's people were far to the northeast and insular except for those taking service in the Order. "He should be able to rally the south. I know that he hoped to impress the Cabal and Mer Empire in the pits, but we need him here. Once again she considered the map. The concentration of her forces along the forest was drying up her information sources.
"Maybe Kirtar will discover something in the south," she said finally. "We need to know what is going on, but for now we must protect our own."
CHAPTER 10
"I hate the forest," Laquatus snarled as he exited the transport pool. Days swimming through caves and river systems under the continent had left his eyes unprepared for the light and heat of the upper world. Turg came out of the pool behind him, his arms hurling sodden luggage. Crabs scuttled and set up a tent for shade as Captain Satas sat in the sun. The amphibian's blind eyes sought the orb's warmth even as his skin burned, exposed to light nature never meant for his people.
"I trust you will be available should I need aid," the ambassador said as he walked to a chair parked under an awning and settled into it. The blind officer tracked his movements.
"I serve your will, but I must travel slowly as we map out routes through the underwater caves," Satas announced, clicking his claws together as he gasped in the heat. "Until more warriors and miners arrive from the sea, you must depend on hirelings," Satas said, his skin beginning to peel away. His eyes were growing dim and sunken as he stayed in the hot, dry air.
"Turg can handle any small difficulties, my good Captain."
Laquatus sipped from the goblet left by the chair. How unfortunate that decent attendants must be left underwater. However, it was a willingness to make sacrifices that defined great leaders, he thought to himself. Besides, a trail of dying servants would have attracted far too much attention.
"Stand ready to reopen the portal should the mercenaries prove unable to meet my needs. You are sure you can open the portal directly beneath me?" Laquatus asked as Turg slunk into the tent and settled in a sullen mass. The large amphibian's skin was already looking dry, and the frog would be difficult to control if the situation went badly.
"The stone calls out to those who know it, Your Excellency," Satas replied, having given the merman a tresias stone. "Finding you will never be difficult while you bear it. It is reaching you that will be hard. Once you begin traveling, I cannot guarantee immediate support."
The ambassador only nodded before remembering that Satas was blind and dismissed him and his men.
Though he appeared at ease, in reality Laquatus seethed with anger and frustration. The lieutenant's path kept him from the explored system of caves and the underground rivers. Those that did exist were clogged with falls and tiny diverging passages. To truly develop the underwater roads would take decades of effort. So instead of leading an attack by mer forces, he was condemned to once more work with drylanders.
The lands were hilly and dusty, a buffer between the plains and the forests to the west. No buildings or civilization as those above water considered it. Turg moved in the tent, and Laquatus heard breaking glass. The gurgle of pouring liquid told the ambassador the jack had found his cache of seawater. He considered disciplining the frog, but the heat of the day drained away all initiative. His hatred festered as he wondered how long it would take the mercenaries to arrive.
The first scout into the camp surprised the ambassador, interrupting the merman's sulk in the heat. The man was small and covered in more warts than the aristocrat's jack. He dismounted and bowed. "Your Excellency-" he began.
"Surely there is a spokesman less repellent than you," Laquatus interrupted, looking back the way the scout had come. "I paid for the best, not the worst." The merman watched teeth grind as the man reached for a sword. Actually, the discolored skin reminded the ambassador of certain breeds of fish, but he was bored and needed entertainment. "I will return with my captain," the red-faced mercenary ground out. Laquatus waved and watched the fellow jerk himself into the saddle and start up the trail. The ambassador went into the hot tent to rouse his protector. Turg lay somnolent, broken glass all around him. Laquatus found an unopened bottle of salt water and smashed it against the tent pole bracket, ignoring the shards that fell on his champion. The merman took a long draught and poured the rest over his body. Already the frigid waterways down below seemed a dream in this heat. He kicked Turg viciously in the ribs, driving him up and outside. Laquatus saw the broken glass slash the frog's feet. He followed, resigning himself to only petty cruelties until he could once more call upon mer warriors.
*****
The village was only a wide spot in the road, completely overwhelmed by the caravan camped around it. Laquatus hammered his heels into his steed and sent the long-suffering mare forward. The brisker pace cooled the ambassador down, his sodden garments losing heat as they dried. The mercenaries leading him watched sourly as he passed, water dripping down to the ground. The aristocrat had appropriated and emptied most of the column's canteens. The fighters' drinking water dribbled down the ambassador's
back to the dirt as he passed. The mercenary leader was lost in a cloak, trying to seal off the heat. Laquatus could feel Turg closing from behind as he sprinted from a mud hollow to get to the camp. The hot breath of the amphibian seemed to fill the merman's lungs as he crowded against the column commander.
"All the hunting parties bring their captures here," the man said pointing to the swathe of activity. The encampment was swollen with the cries of animals and people. Bears, cougars, and wolves were caged, as well as fauns and Krosan dragonettes. A huge elk, nearly the size of an elephant, was secured to a stake by a nose ring. Though the noise enveloped them, it was without the frenzy expected from wild animals. Many seemed docile, even lost as they lay within the enclosures of steel. The hum of controlling spells called to the ambassador. The merman felt his champion slowly entering the camp behind him and drifting toward the pens. Laquatus broke the spell, and Turg started at the surge of will. The amphibian ran to his master, goaded by the aristocrat's bad humor.
"Sorry ambassador," called Laquatus's escort as the mercenaries peeled off for other duties, leaving him and the amphibian with only the company of their baggage. "It takes some effort to avoid the magic controlling the animals."
Laquatus nodded in recognition. The Mer Empire special-ized in spells of control and illusion, and a profitable business was made in training and equipping the hunters who entered the forest.
"Without the spells provided by the empire it would be impossible to manage these animals," the ambassador muttered, taking control of the giant elk. His mental bludgeoning sent it rampaging across the camp, its painful cries of no interest to the ambassador. Despite its matted hide and sores, it still had enough power to rip the stake out of the ground. He nodded at the ease with which he could hijack the spells.