The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “Goblins,” said Elerian in a whisper. “Durio scented them on the night breeze.”

  While Ascilius rose to his feet and prepared himself for battle, Elerian quickly strung his bow and thrust his knives through his belt. Together, he and Ascilius crept stealthily to edge of the summit, bent over so as not to outline themselves against the night sky. Kneeling on the grass behind a large boulder, they looked around opposite sides of the stone, down the hill. All was still except for the silver grass rippling in the night breeze. Beneath the trees that grew lower down on the hill, there were only dark shadows. If there were Goblins about, they were well hidden.

  Silently, Durio padded over to stand behind Elerian. Impatiently, he shifted his weight from one paw to another, growling softly deep in his chest. Elerian glanced at him over his left shoulder and saw a red gleam flickering in the back of his dark eyes.

  “Is there another way they can come up?” asked Elerian softly.

  “There is a sheer drop in the back,” said Durio in a rough whisper. “They can only approach us from this side.”

  Elerian looked down the slope again. Eyes like burning embers glowed in the shadows under the trees. A pack of black, wolfish creatures crept stealthily into the open, their coarse fur bristling out around them, making them appear twice their size as they slunk purposefully up the side of the hill.

  “Are they all canigrae or are there lupins among them?” wondered Elerian to himself, for shape changers would be more dangerous than ordinary Goblin hounds.

  Just then, no fewer than two dozen Mordi, clad in black leather armor, silently followed the canigrae from under the trees. They were armed with swords, knives, and bows. Many of them also carried long spears with stout steel cross guards below the points. Their dark eyes glittered in their pale, thin faces in anticipation of a bloodletting.

  “They come hunting Durio,” was Elerian’s first thought when he saw the spears, for they were of the type used to hunt dangerous game. “They may not even suspect that Ascilius and I are here.”

  “Leave then,” urged a quiet voice in the back of his head. “Take Ascilius and descend the back of the hill with your rope. This is none of your affair.”

  It was sensible advice, for with the appearance of the Mordi, the odds against them were now considerably worsened. Elerian doubted that he and Ascilius could overcome so many enemies at once, even with Durio’s help. Still, it went against his nature to slink off into the darkness, leaving Durio to fend for himself.

  “I would rather fall here than take the coward’s way out and live,” thought Elerian grimly to himself.

  He had a dozen arrows in his quiver now. With a little luck, he might account for half of the Mordi before they reached the summit of the hill. Confidently, Elerian set an arrow to his bow and drew back his bowstring, keeping as much of his body behind the cover of the outcrop as he could. Down the hill, the Goblins and their hounds continued their stealthy advance, unaware that they were being watched. Elerian was on the point of releasing his arrow at one of the nearest Mordi when a tremendous roar suddenly shattered the stillness of the night.

  The Wood Goblins and their hounds froze in their tracks, looking up the hill with startled faces. Elerian started badly at the unexpected noise, his arrow flying wildly down the hill and missing its intended target by a wide margin. An instant later, cavernous roars issuing from his chest, Durio rushed past Elerian and bounded down the hill like a shaggy avalanche.

  On Elerian’s left, Ascilius jumped up, shouting, “Death to the Mordi,” in his deep voice.

  With his ax upraised above his head in his right hand, he stormed down the hill after Durio, anxious to account for his share of the enemy. Elerian lowered his bow and shook his head in mingled disbelief and exasperation.

  “I would be hard put to decide who is the more rash of the pair,” thought Elerian to himself. “If they had waited a few more moments, I could have lessened the odds against us, with little risk to any of us.”

  There was no chance of that now, for Ascilius and Durio were now directly in the path his arrows would have taken. He groaned to himself as he watched the impetuous pair charge into the midst of the pack of hounds, completely disregarding the fact that they were badly outnumbered. The canigrae, urged on by shouts from their masters, stood their ground, wisely parting in front of Durio and keeping well out of reach of his paws. Standing up, Elerian raised his bow again and swiftly, one after the other, shot three of the canigrae when they rushed in to tear at Durio’s unprotected sides and flanks. Ascilius leaped into the fray then, bringing down two more of the hounds with his new ax. Two hammer like blows from the Durio’s massive paws accounted for two more hounds. The remaining canigrae fled with their tails between their legs, but the Mordi closed in, threatening Ascilius and Durio from all sides with their spear points.

  The time for arrow work had passed, and Elerian regretfully set his bow and quiver on the ground. Drawing his sword, he ran swiftly his bow and quiver on the ground. Drawing his sword, he ran swiftly down the hill, toward the wildly shifting melee below him. The night was rent by Durio’s roars, Ascilius’s battle cries, and the shouts of the Wood Goblins.

  Ascilius and Durio now stood back to back, but Durio was bearing the brunt of the attack. Elerian saw that the quick-footed Goblins were inflicting many wounds on his sides and shoulders with their long spear points as Durio lunged first in one direction and then another, goaded into a frenzy by the pale, mocking faces around him. Durio was unable to reach the clever Mordi, who stabbed at him from a distance, but Elerian noticed that their spears did not seem to penetrate deeply into his body.

  “He must have the stony flesh of a Troll,” thought Elerian to himself as he ran lightly down the side of the hill.

  Ascilius, unlike Durio, was still unwounded, for the Mordi were mostly ignoring him. When they did stab at him, he fended off their spear points with his ax, sheering several of them clean off.

  Before Elerian could join in the fray, Durio suddenly charged recklessly into the circle of his foes, ignoring the spears that wounded him in the face and chest. Spear shafts snapped like twigs as the Mordi attempted to hold him back. Then, Durio was in their midst, striking the Goblins like a furred bolt of lightning. In the space of a few heartbeats, he slew four who did not retreat quickly enough by smashing them into the ground with his massive front paws or crushing them between his huge jaws. Ascilius and Elerian joined him then; the Dwarf chopping down three Wood Goblins with his ax, like so much cord wood, while Elerian protected his back, for the Dwarf seems heedless of any personal danger, consumed as he was by battle rage.

  The surviving Goblins retreated down the hill toward the trees, but there was no look of panic in their faces, which troubled Elerian.

  “Why are they giving up so easily?” he wondered to himself. “They no longer seemed interested in fighting a pitched battle.”

  With no living enemies left around them, Durio, with Ascilius at his heels, charged down the slope after the fleeing Mordi.

  “Not again,” groaned Elerian to himself as he followed the reckless pair.

  “Stop!” he shouted, for who knew what awaited them under the trees. His voice was drowned out by Durio’s roars, which broke like thunder on the hill.

  Suddenly, the changeling stumbled, turning a complete summersault on the steep slope before falling heavily to the ground on his back, facing uphill. Ascilius, who was close behind him, ran into Durio’s chest, rebounding back, as if he had struck a wall of stone. He, too, fell on his back and lay without moving.

  When Elerian reached his side, Ascilius raised his head, his dark eyes unfocussed. “His flesh is as hard as stone,” he said groggily to Elerian. “I feel as if I had run into a wall.”

  Ascilius made no attempt to rise, and Elerian was pleased to see that the battle lust had faded from his eyes.

  “He, at least, has come to his senses,” thought Elerian to himself.

  Durio had also raised his head. �
��I am almost as hard as a Troll,” he said in a labored voice in response to Ascilius’s observation. “The Mordi’s weapons did not bite me deeply, but a strange weakness has come over me.” Durio paused a moment, his breathing hoarse and strained. Putting his nose into the air, he said hoarsely, “The Goblins have not gone far. They are waiting under the trees below us. I would pursue them and pull them down one at a time, but I cannot get up.”

  He attempted to rise, but immediately uttered a loud groan and fell back heavily to the ground.

  Acting on a sudden suspicion, Elerian ran back up the slope and examined one of the broken spears that littered the ground. The spear point was black, lying like a long, pointed shadow in the silvered grass. Elerian’s night wise eyes saw clearly the dark, viscous substance smeared on the edge of the steel.

  “Poison!” he thought to himself, recalling the Goblin’s fondness for that substance. “No wonder they fled. The Mordi are waiting for their poison to do its work.”

  Returning to his fallen comrades, Elerian said softly to Ascilius, “You are most fortunate that you did not receive any wounds. The spears that the Mordi used are poisoned! They did not need to wound Durio deeply to kill him.”

  The Dwarf looked sadly at the mortally wounded changeling. “He will die then,” he said quietly. “It is a shame, for he fought bravely against the Goblins and their hounds.”

  “Less bravery and more common sense might have saved him from this fate,” thought Elerian critically to himself, but he did not speak the thought aloud. There was no sense in starting an argument with Ascilius now.

  “Perhaps I can still help him,” Elerian said to Ascilius. “First, however, we must get him behind some sort of cover. Some of the Mordi carried bows, and we are well within arrowshot where we stand. If they see us trying to help Durio, they may try to slay us with their arrows. I can cast a shield spell to protect us against arrows, or I can help Durio, but I cannot do both at the same time.”

  “That stone to our left would provide enough cover, but it would take ten strong Dwarves to pull this mountain of fur, bone, and muscle that far,” said Ascilius, pointing to a large gray outcrop barely twenty feet to their left.

  “I do not see any of your countrymen about, so my magic will have to serve,” said Elerian wryly. “Stand with me behind the outcrop.”

  Keeping a wary eye on the trees below them, they ran from behind the protection of Durio’s body, taking shelter behind the nearby wall of stone. Elerian eyed Durio’s bulk. It would take a powerful calling spell to move him even this short distance. Silently, he cast his spell, watching with his third eye as a golden ball of light the size of one of Ascilius’s large fists shot from the fingertips of his outstretched right hand. In an eye blink, it covered the distance to Durio’s body, striking the changeling. The orb immediately expanded, covering Durio in a golden mantle of light. Beside Elerian, Ascilius started as Durio suddenly vanished. An instant later, the changeling reappeared behind them in the shelter of the outcrop.

  “That will give that lot skulking in the trees below us something to think about,” said Ascilius with satisfaction.

  “It may frighten the Mordi for now, but it will also make them think about us and who we might be,” said Elerian gloomily. “They will have to be dealt with once I tend to Durio. Keep watch while I try to heal his wounds.”

  “Fear not,” said Ascilius, gripping his ax firmly. “No Goblin will get by me while I can still draw a breath.”

  “For all his faults, I could not ask for a better comrade,” thought Elerian warmly to himself at Ascilius’s words. He had grown genuinely fond of the irascible Dwarf, who reminded him a great deal of his old mentor, Tullius. He knew Ascilius would die defending him if necessary while he was lost in the healing spell he meant to cast over Durio.

  Kneeling down, Elerian laid his long right hand on the changeling’s side, pressing it down through the thick fur until he felt the solid flesh beneath. Heat rose into his fingers, as if Durio was on fire beneath his skin.

  “The poison is burning through his veins already,” thought Elerian to himself as he cast a healing spell to counteract the poison in the bear’s massive body. He watched with his magical eye as a flow of golden light spread from his fingers, entering Durio’s body through an open wound. For long minutes, no longer aware of anything that went on around him, Elerian wrestled with the evil that the Goblins had unleashed in Durio’s shaggy form. The changeling’s breathing; uncertain, hoarse, and labored, was the only sound on the hilltop meadow. Spasms of pain racked his great frame, for the poison the Goblins had used was potent, and he had taken a large quantity of it into his body because of his recklessness.

  Crouched behind the outcrop next to Elerian, Ascilius kept a nervous watch on the woods below, exposing only a part of his face. He saw flickers of movement in the woods, and, like Elerian, thought of the bows that some of the Goblins had carried. The Wood Goblins were skilled with their curved bows, and Ascilius expected to hear an arrow whizz by his head at any moment. Worse yet, the Goblins might come back in strength to investigate what was going on behind the outcrop.

  “Hurry Elerian,” he muttered under his breath, stealing a glance at his motionless companion.

  Elerian remained still as stone. Ascilius continued his steadfast watch, even though he became certain, as the minutes ran by one after another, that Durio would die from the poison he had taken in. Each time Ascilius heard some long pause between the deep labored breaths that came from the changeling, he was certain that their shaggy ally had finally expired. Ascilius started when Elerian unexpectedly spoke.

  “I do not know if he will survive or not,” said Elerian in a tired voice, “but I have done all that I can. The poison is worse than anything I have ever encountered before.”

  “It will sadden me if he dies,” said Ascilius, without taking his eyes off the woods below them. “I think he was once a Dwarf. He has a Dwarf name, and his memories go back many years of men. The Goblins may have changed his shape, but I believe he still retains the long life span my people.”

  Abruptly, Durio lifted up his broad head, regarding Elerian and Ascilius with weary brown eyes.

  “Enough talk of dying please. Could I trouble one of you for some water?” he asked weakly.

  Elerian and Ascilius looked at each other. The stream was not far, but they lacked a container to carry water in.

  “I will need to return to Durio’s cave for the honey bucket,” said Elerian to Ascilius. “I will use my ring so that the Mordi do not see me.”

  Silently, Elerian cast the spell that would bring him his silver ring from the place where he kept his spell book. With his third eye, he saw a small orb of light fly from the fingers of his right hand. The orb became a thin circle of gold with a dark center. Instantly, Elerian’s ring flew through the small portal, which vanished immediately. The ring slipped over the third finger of Elerian’s right hand, releasing a tide of golden light that covered Elerian from head to toe.

  Durio started when Elerian vanished from sight. Turning to Ascilius, he said, “Your companion is a potent mage.”

  “He is that and more,” replied Ascilius as he resumed his watch on the Goblins hiding in the forest.

  Safely out of sight, Elerian ran up the hill to Durio’s cave. The empty bucket was near the cave entrance. When he picked it up by the handle with his right hand, it disappeared from view as the golden film of light covering his body flowed over it. After filling the empty bucket in the nearby spring, Elerian returned to Durio’s side. He sent away his ring, and Durio, who was sitting up now, blinked in surprise when Elerian suddenly appeared in front of him holding the bucket of water. He drank deeply, lapping up the clear water with his long red tongue before lying down once more. He still seemed feeble to Elerian, but his breathing was easier.

  “I have never attacked the Goblins openly before,” said Durio to Elerian and Ascilius. “I have always struck at them from the cover of the forest. I shall have to b
e more careful in the future. The venom from their spears burned through my veins like fire.”

  “Rest now, and give no thought to the future,” said Elerian. “Ascilius will stand watch over you.” Turning to the Dwarf, who was still nervously watching the trees below them, Elerian said quietly, “They must be wondering what happened to Durio, Ascilius. I must deal with them before they decide to come up and investigate.”

  “I am not staying behind, not while there are Goblin heads to cleave,” said Ascilius immediately with a rebellious look on his face.

  “Be sensible, Ascilius. Someone must stay to guard Durio,” said Elerian reasonably.

  The stubborn look on Ascilius’s craggy features showed no sign of softening.

  “There is no reasoning with him when he gets like this,” thought Elerian to himself, abandoning any further attempt to reason with his bloodthirsty companion. He called his ring to his hand again and immediately vanished.

  “Wait!” said Ascilius furiously in a low voice, but there was no answer.

  Peering around the right side of the outcrop, he looked down the hill and saw grass stems move slightly under Elerian’s light footsteps. He was walking straight toward the trees on the slopes below.

  Ascilius said several unkind things about Elerian under his breath, for there was no way he could follow him without alerting the Goblins to Elerian’s presence. With a black look on his face, he swung his ax through the air with a vicious whine, wishing that he had Goblin necks to vent his anger on.

  “There are too many of them,” Ascilius thought darkly to himself. “He is sure to run into trouble without me by his side.

  IN THE NICK OF TIME

  Silent as the night breeze, Elerian stole quietly down the hillside and stealthily entered the forest. The moonlight did not penetrate here, but his eyes saw clearly in the world of gray and black around him. Moving as little as possible, he carefully examined the trees all around him. He counted at least a half dozen black clad Mordi crouched behind trees at the edge of the wood, and he was certain there were others he could not see. The Goblins were armed with short, recurved bows, and every now and then, one of them cautiously stole a look around a tree trunk at the outcrop where Ascilius waited with Durio.