“What happened?” one of the guards asked. The wounded centaur took a few breaths, obviously in great pain. “Humans. Maybe ten of them. I was guarding the crops, and they burst from the trees. I managed to hit two with my bow before they swarmed me. I was forced to retreat.” He coughed as one hand went to a stab wound in his side. Blood spurted between his fingers with each heartbeat. One of the guards handed him a health potion, and the bleeding subsided.
The other centaur asked “Are they attacking our village?”
“No” the first centaur shook his head “They weren’t headed that direction when they found me. As I fled one of them shouted for the others not to follow. Said they were looking for drow, not a centaur.”
All eyes turned to Mace. He shrugged saying “I have no idea. They could be part of the slaver party that we killed. Or they could have seen the elves’ note like the centaurs did?”
One of the settlers, a wolf beastkin, spat on the ground and said “Humans don’t need a reason to kill. Any more than drow.” Mace tried not to take it personally. The wolfman was right on both counts. Instead he said “Can you show me where you saw them?”
The wounded centaur shook his head, then said something to his comrade. The other centaur nodded “I can show you. Come.” The beastkin and another centaur volunteered to join them. Mace had no objection.
The group set off at a jog. The centaurs ranged ahead, as they knew where they were going. They had bows drawn and arrows nocked, and scanned the forest as they moved. The wolfkin loped along beside Mace with no apparent effort. Wolfkin had the same amazing stamina as normal wolves, along with the improved hearing and smell. They simply walked upright. Mace noticed him scenting the air as they ran.
Thirty-five minutes later they arrived at the field where the attack had taken place. Mace could see clear footprints in the tilled soil, and several trampled cabbage-like plants in a path leading off to the northwest. There were two dead humans near the tree line, both with large centaur arrows in their chests. Mace went to investigate. He searched the corpses, looking for anything that would identify the men or give some clue as to their purpose. He found some gold and silver, which he handed to the centaurs. Their comrade had been the one to kill these men after all.
He found nothing of interest, no maps or copies of the elves’ message. They both wore an odd insignia on their shoulders. It was a dagger and flame pattern Mace hadn’t seen before. When he questioned the others, none of them had seen it either. He cut the fabric around one of them with his dagger and stuck the emblem in his bag.
They set off along the trail left by the humans. The tracks were not spaced widely, so they were not running. And they seemed to be walking in small clusters. No uniformity or military organization to the pattern. Mace’s group resumed their jog, as there was no danger of losing the trail. These humans were either careless, or did not expect to be followed.
Mace paused after another twenty minutes as they reached an area when the ground was moist and the tracks were still filling in with water. “We’re close to them now. I’ll take the lead.” He looked to the wolfkin “You move just behind me. Close and quiet. Centaurs, you take the left and right flanks. Stay back thirty yards or so and cover us with your bows. Focus on any who try to flee. Push them back in toward us. I want at least two of them left alive for questioning.” When the centaurs grumbled at this, Mace added “We need to know if they are part of a larger group. There could be a threat to your village and the settlement.”
This quieted the two, and Mace moved forward. Less than five minutes later the wolfkin growled quietly to get his attention. He held up a clawed hand, then pointed to his ear. He could hear their voices. After a moment, he held up four fingers.
Mace thought it over. Four voices. That didn’t mean only four of them up ahead. The others could just be quiet. Or it could mean they’ve split up. Or have scouts out. Mace doubted the last option. They’d shown no evidence of concern before now. He stepped to a nearby tree and pulled himself up onto a branch. Climbing higher, he looked in the direction the wolfkin had indicated. He saw a total of six humans sitting on sections of fallen trees near a stream. Looking down to the others, he held up six fingers, then shrugged.
He looked around for a minute, hoping to see more targets. When they began to look as if they were gearing up to move again, he dropped out of the tree. With a whisper he said “I saw six, but there may be more. About fifty yards ahead” He pointed out their direction. “Remember, we need two for questioning. If I get myself killed, bring two or more back to the settlement and give them to the captain. I’ll find you there.”
Mace motioned for the two centaurs to move off on the flanks, and he and the wolfkin moved swiftly toward their targets. Mace didn’t wait to listen when they got close enough. He simply lifted his bow and fired twice before leaping over one of the fallen trees. Exchanging his bow for daggers in mid-air, he landed atop one of the humans. It was a female he’d shot with his first arrow. Without pause, he jammed a dagger through her throat and withdrew it quickly before moving on. There was a brief rush as his dagger absorbed the human’s soul.
Their targets had recovered enough to draw weapons now, and Mace faced four upright humans with swords. The fifth was on his back screaming as he tried to pull Mace’s second arrow from his chest. His strength was already fading.
Mace lifted his daggers, one dripping with the blood of the woman at his feet. The humans moved to surround him, obviously surprised to find themselves facing a drow. “He must be with them!” one of the humans said as he moved toward Mace’s left side. Mace simply stood upright and calm, letting them surround him as if it didn’t matter in the least. He could hear the wolfkin moving behind a log to his right, so he turned left and faced the speaker. “One of whom?” he asked.
“You know who. Scouting party. Slaver scouts. We saw you and the others head this way two days ago. This is our territory now. We’ll teach you not to trespass.” He raised his sword. Mace had heard enough. So, apparently, had the wolfkin who leapt silently over the log and tackled the nearest human, his jaws clamping down on his victim’s shoulder from behind and his body weight driving the man to the ground.
Mace acted instantly, running straight at the speaker to his left. He blocked an incoming sword strike with his left-hand dagger, then used his right to slash the back of the man’s leg. The human dropped to his knees and screamed as his tendons were severed. Mace was about to move to the next human when an arrow struck him in the back, knocking him forward. The arrow shattered a couple of ribs in his back and entered his lung. His health bar dropped to 40% and he was bleeding badly.
He turned as he fell, seeing the archer that had just hit him take a centaur arrow to the head and go down. A second archer was ducking behind a tree for cover. The man never saw the other centaur that pinned him to the tree with an arrow from behind.
The remaining two swordsmen had gone after the wolfkin. The beastman was missing an arm below the elbow, and Mace watched a sword slide deep into his thigh. Mace didn’t try to remove the arrow in his back. He leapt toward the two upright humans. His right-hand dagger found the heart of one that had foolishly turned his back to the drow. Again, his dagger drank a soul, and the odd sensation crept up his arm. The other human, the one who’d severed the wolfkin’s arm, stepped toward Mace already swinging a sword dripping with wolfkin blood.
Mace couldn’t roll over, the arrow in his back prevented it. Instead he lashed out with one boot using all the strength he had. The swordsman’s knee buckled backward, and he grunted in pain as his sword stroke went astray. Mace pushed himself up to his knees with a pained grunt of his own as the arrowhead inside him tore at his flesh. He managed to raise a dagger in time to deflect the weak backhanded sword stroke coming at him.
Grabbing hold of the human, he pushed the man backward. The swordsman’s knee gave out, and he began to fall. Mace held on, and used the human’s weight and momentum to pull himself up. He fell forward
on top of the man and held a dagger at his throat. The swordsman froze, eyes wide in pain and fear. Mace said “Toss your weapon aside.”
The human did as he was told. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ve got gold. And I can tell you where to find more!”
Mace was momentarily distracted as the wolfkin fell to the ground nearby. He had used his remaining hand to pull the sword from his leg, and blood was pumping weakly from both leg and arm. One of the centaurs came galloping into the camp with a health potion already in hand. He popped the cork and went to pour it down the wolfkin’s throat, but paused when he saw he was too late. The wolfkin’s eyes stared blankly into the trees.
The centaur handed the potion to Mace instead. Mace drank it down, and his health bar rose to 70%. He nodded to the centaur, who waited for a few seconds, then pulled the arrow from Mace’s back. Mace tried to scream, but his ravaged lung held no air, so what came out was more of a strangled squeal.
In his agonized state he’d accidentally slit the throat of the human he was sitting on. “Dammit! I wanted to question him.” Mace cursed his stupidity. The centaur who’d healed him said “This one still lives” as he lifted the man with the severed tendons in his leg. The other centaur pointed to the archer pinned to the tree. “He still breathes as well.”
Mace addressed the group leader being held by the centaur. “Who sent you?”
The man cursed under his breath, not answering. Mace held up his dagger so the man could get a good look. “This dagger will drink your soul if I kill you with it. So you’ll never see whatever afterlife you believe in.” The dagger glowed faintly with a pulsing grey light. It had just fed well, but seemed to long for more.
The man gulped as he stared at the weapon. “You can kill me. If I talk, he’ll kill my whole family. Better I die here.” His voice was quiet and dead, as if he’d already given up. Mace shook his head “Or you could tell me who sent you, I can go kill him, and you and your family can live.”
There was a short scream as the other centaur pulled the archer off the arrow that held him to the tree. Mace saw blood pumping steadily from the man’s shoulder as the centaur carried him over and dropped him next to the other human.
Mace looked at both men and said “Right. The first one who speaks gets to live.”
The archer had barely taken a breath before he said “Justin. He sent us. Lieutenant of the Black Flame. Said to find a group of drow slaver scouts and take them out. We’re claiming this territory.”
The leader spat at the archer and shouted “Shut your trap you moron! He’s gonna kill us no matter what. Tell him nothing.” Mace kicked his injured leg to shut him up. The man’s eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.
“What is your name, human?” Mace asked the archer.
“M-Matthew. Matt.” The man grimaced as he tried to stop the bleeding in his shoulder by pressing his hand to it. Mace pulled a low-quality health potion from his bag. “This will stop the bleeding. You can have it if you tell me where to find Justin.”
“Northwest. A day’s travel. Cave system at the base of the mountain. The entrance is an old mine.” Matt answered without hesitation while holding his hand out. Mace considered just killing the man. He was a slaver after all. But he handed the potion over and waited for him to gulp it down. He’d made a promise after all.
“Who or what is this Black Flame?” Mace asked. The archer looked nervously at the other man, awake again, who growled at him. Mace drew his dagger again, looking from the weapon to the archer and back.
“Slavers, mostly. Some weapons trade, and other black-market goods. We take down a village, take the people as slaves. Sell whatever goods they have to the settlements underground. Buy weapons and bring them back to sell on the surface.”
The other man lunged for the archer, trying to shut up him. Mace drove his dagger up under the man’s chin and into his brain. He went limp instantly as the dagger absorbed yet another soul. The archer watched wide-eyed as Mace removed the dagger and it pulsed visibly. The blood on the blade was quickly absorbed, and the blade gleamed again. Mace shuddered with the feeling it gave him. He looked at the panic-stricken archer.
“Your people are dead. Thanks to you, I’m going to visit this Justin and remove his head. I should kill you here and now to keep you from warning him that I’m coming.” Mace’s voice was slightly more than a whisper, but the archer caught every word. “But I don’t think I need to. I think you know that if you go back and warn him, he’ll kill you for talking. And if he doesn’t, I’ll kill you when I get there.”
The archer opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Mace could see him picturing Justin’s reaction, considering his options. Finally, he slumped to the ground. “Yes. He’ll kill me. Or you will.” he muttered dejectedly.
Mace poked at him with a toe. “The settlement by the lake lost a lot of folks in a recent battle.” He purposely didn’t look at the centaurs as he said this. “They could use someone who could stand on a wall and shoot. And help rebuild. I won’t guarantee they’ll accept you.”
The archer stood on unsteady legs. “I… would like that. Never wanted to be a slaver anyway. But I needed to eat.”
The centaurs both nodded. One of them said “We’ll escort him back. Can we assume you’re going straight to the mine?”
Mace gave them his best evil grin. “Never liked the name Justin. You guys pick out a good spot near the gate at Lakeside. We’ll mount his head as a warning to others.”
Mace began looting the bodies as the centaurs escorted the archer back into the forest. All told he collected nearly thirty gold and some sellable weapons. Nothing special.
He turned toward the northwest. In the distance he could see the mountains rising above the trees. The archer had said the mine entrance was a day’s travel. That was at human walking speed. Mace was a drow. He climbed into a nearby tree and began to run from branch to branch.
*****
Shari rubbed Snuffles’ belly as they plodded along in the wagon. “This thing ain’t no Bertha, but it’ll get us there” she said to the pig, who was half asleep. From one of the wagons ahead, a song began to play. It was a soft tune, but uplifting. Shari found herself feeling somehow lighter and stronger at the same time. She noticed the wagon’s driver perking up as well. “What is that?” Shari asked.
The driver nodded his head toward the wagon. “That’s Layne up ahead. She’s a bard. She makes magic with her music. She’s playing a traveling tune that increases strength and stamina. The horses move a bit faster, and can run longer.”
Shari had of course heard of bards. Like most gamers, she’s discounted them as nearly useless. But the buffs she was feeling now seemed quite useful.
Faster travel? Extra strength? What other kind of buffs can she provide? She could be a handy travel companion.
The wagons continued on for several hours before the lead driver called for a break. The horses were unhitched and led to a nearby stream where they could drink and graze. The rangers spread out to form a perimeter in the woods while the drivers started a fire and prepared to make some tea.
Shari hopped off her wagon, and Snuffles followed. Mion took to the air and glided over to some shrubs, poking her nose into the dirt in search of a meal. Snuffles followed suit. Shari moved to where Layne was sitting on a rock, quietly strumming on a lute. “That’s beautiful” she said to the bard.
Layne looked young, for an elf. Which might mean she was anywhere from thirty to three hundred years old. She had long straight hair that Shari suspected was dyed a vibrant red. She dressed in soft leathers and a cloak that looked as if it were made of green velvet. “Thank you, Shari. Compliments are always welcome. Do you play?”
Shari made a sad face. “Never learned. I was always focused on other things. But I love music.” She sat on the ground in front of Layne, who continued to strum her instrument softly. “I can feel the magic in your music. It’s very… comforting.” She sat and listened until the break ended, and the
drivers called everyone back to the wagons. In just a few minutes they were moving down the road once again, Layne playing her traveling tune.
The motion of the wagon and the music lulled Shari into a nap. She was awakened a couple of hours later when the wagon came to a stop. There was a shout from the lead wagon, and several of the elven rangers hopped from their seats to investigate. Shari heard one of them say the road was blocked.
They were on a narrow stretch of the forest road that sloped down toward a small lake. Cypress trees and clusters of rushes lined either side of the road, suggesting marshland. The road itself was built up higher than the surrounding land and remained dry. Still, this would be a horrible place to try and turn the wagons around. Shari hoped they could clear the blockage quickly and get the caravan moving again.
There was another shout, followed immediately by a scream of pain. Shari turned toward the sound, seeing something her brain just didn’t want to register. The only thought in her head was “Nope!”
Frogs. Frogs the size of Rottweilers. With too many legs and an extra set of eyes.
Spider Frog
Level 20
Health 500/500
Spider Frogs?! Who the hell would think up something like this? Whoever they are, they need help. Like, serious therapy! And a hobby.
Brownish green, they glistened with slime that seemed to ooze from the warts on their skin. One of them targeted a wagon driver and launched a ten-foot long tongue in the elf’s direction. The thing latched onto the driver’s leg with two sets of nasty looking teeth that emerged from the tip of the tongue. The driver screamed as the teeth sank into his thigh, and the frog tried to pull him from the wagon.
The elf braced himself against the wagon and tried to free his knife. With a tremendous pull of the tongue and an eight-legged leap, the frog propelled itself toward the elf. Two arrows pierced the thing as it practically flew through the air. It landed short of the wagon and tumbled underneath, the tongue ripping a chunk from the driver’s leg as it pulled free.
Land of the Undying Page 37