by A. Giannetti
They stopped no more than ten feet away, putting their heads up and flaring their nostrils as if they were testing the air for some scent. Balbus found himself staring directly down at the creatures, and his heart began pounding like a drum. He felt horribly exposed and wanted only to run away as quickly as possible, but he forced himself to remain calm and unmoving next to Tullius.
“I see nothing, Gratus,” said one of the creatures in a harsh, deep voice. The words were hard to understand as if speech did not come easily to the creature’s throat.
“I heard two men, Fagus,” insisted Gratus in an equally coarse voice. “They are here nearby, hidden perhaps.” Without moving, the two creatures continued to look around. Twice, Balbus found himself looking directly into their cold yellow eyes. As far as the creatures were concerned, however, he and Tullius seemed to be invisible. Fortunately, the breeze which had brought them the creatures’ scent continued to blow out of the gully, and their own scent was not carried down to their questing nostrils.
“Nothing,” said the creature named Gratus. “Maybe I imagined the voices. Better to return to the cave until the light fades.” Balbus had a clear view of Gratus’s face as he spoke, and it seemed to him that there was a cunning glint in his yellow eyes. The pair moved off at once, however, descending noisily down the side of the gully toward the cave entrance. They seemed to have abandoned their stealth now that they were sure no one was about.
Tullius remained motionless for a long time, even after the creatures entered the cave, until even their smell had mostly faded away. Balbus patiently remained next to him without moving. Finally, the mage stirred. “I think they have gone back to sleep,” he whispered.
“Are you sure?” asked Balbus worriedly. “It seemed to me that the one named Gratus was planning some sort of trickery.”
“We are quite safe as long as we do not make any noise,” insisted Tullius. “I cast an illusion spell over us that makes us look like a part of the forest surrounding us. Even if they come back out of the cave, they cannot see us, and the breeze is blowing the wrong way for them to catch our scent. Let us return home now, as you suggested, and gather help. It is almost certain that these are the creatures that are responsible for the disappearances of the missing men.”
“Are you certain it is safe to move?” asked Balbus uneasily. The crafty glint in Gratus’s eyes still troubled him.
“Just be quiet and follow me,” whispered Tullius confidently. “We will not end up on anyone’s dinner table today if I can help it.” Carefully, he rose to his feet and walked away from the ravine. Moving as quietly as possible, Balbus followed him.
“What manner of creature were those things?” whispered Balbus.
“They are mutare,” said Tullius softly. “They were allies of the Goblins during their last war against the Dwarves. Some of them escaped from their Goblin masters and took refuge in the wild places of Ancharia. It has not happened in a very long time, but occasionally some of them cross the Ancharus over the old bridge at Esdras and travel into our lands, although they usually do not come this far west. Fortunately for us, they are not very clever, but they are dangerous, for like Goblins, they will eat a man when they can catch one. We will have quite a surprise for them in the morning when we return,” he said with satisfaction.
Just then, in the space of a heartbeat, a grinning Fagus leaped out from behind a large oak tree and promptly swept Tullius up into his knotted, hairy arms before Tullius could take another step. The impact of the creature’s massive chest against his own sent Tullius’s staff spinning away, and the illusion concealing the men immediately vanished. Balbus raised his staff, but before he could bring it down across Fagus’s thick skull, Gratus leaped out from behind another tree and felled him to the ground with a single, heavy blow of his right fist to the side of his head, leaving Balbus only half conscious. Tullius struggled furiously but uselessly. His captor was so powerful that Tullius’s resistance had no effect upon the mutare at all except to amuse him. Tullius and Balbus were both quickly stripped of their knives and had their hands and feet tied cruelly tight with leather straps.
“Got them both,” said Gratus exultantly as he tied the last knot.
“Men are not clever at all,” laughed Fagus, and Tullius winced at his words, realizing that he had badly underestimated the intelligence of these brutish looking creatures. As Balbus had feared, Gratus had suspected that someone was hiding nearby and had concocted a cunning plan. After returning to the cave, he and Fagus had left through the back entrance which Tullius and Balbus had never discovered when Elerian routed the Goblins from the ravine. Creeping quietly through the forest with Fagus at his side, Gratus had circled around behind the men he suspected were hiding near the ravine. He finally caught the scent of Balbus and Tullius on the breeze which now blew in his face. Although he could not see either of the men, the sound of Tullius’s voice and his scent had guided Gratus to him. After he blindly seized Tullius in his arms, Gratus was not surprised to see two men suddenly appear when Tullius’s staff fell to the ground. Familiar with the ways of mages, he had suspected some sort of magic from the beginning.
Balbus and Tullius were now unceremoniously thrown across the mutares’ broad shoulders. With their hands and feet crushed by clawed, iron fingers, and their faces buried in the creatures’ shaggy, malodorous fur, Balbus and Tullius were carried like spoils of the hunt. Their staffs were left behind where they had fallen.
When the mutare entered the cave which they had made into their den, the two men were dumped on the floor near the left hand wall. Gratus then roughly pulled them up, lifting them easily with his powerful arms and clawed fingers so that they were sitting back to back. He bound a rope tightly around both their necks so that if they tried to move apart, they would strangle themselves. A second rope was bound securely around their chests and arms.
“These two can remain here while we check the traps before it becomes dark,” said Gratus to Fagus when he was done.
“I say we eat them now,” replied Fagus with an evil glint in his yellow eyes. He drew a black bladed knife of Goblin make from his belt, and Tullius and Balbus began to struggle uselessly against their bonds.
“We will eat them later,” said Gratus firmly. “There may be more men in the traps. If we wait too long, they might escape.”
“You go then,” said Fagus with a crafty look in his eyes. “I will watch these two and make sure they don’t escape.”
“We will go together,” said Gratus firmly. He knew he would find only scraps and clean picked bones when he returned if he left Fagus alone with the men. The two mutare glared at each other and growls rumbled in their powerful chests. Balbus and Tullius suddenly became hopeful that the two creatures might do away with each other, for a fight seemed imminent, but eventually, Fagus dropped his eyes and sullenly gave in. He was not as large or powerful as Gratus and even with a knife in his hand, evidently feared his companion. Grumbling to himself, Fagus shuffled out of the cave first, and Gratus followed behind. He was wise enough not to let Fagus get behind his back.
Balbus and Tullius were left sitting alone in the cave. As soon as he was sure the mutare were gone, Balbus tried to slip his bonds, but the straps binding his hands and ankles were cleverly tied and cruelly tight. Already, his hands and feet were going numb, and his head ached abominably from the blow he had received earlier. Tullius also tested his bonds with no better luck. Desperately, the two men searched around for some other means of escape. They saw at once that the mutare were not as neat as the Goblins who had once occupied the cave. Gnawed bones littered the floor, and the air was filled with the rancid smell of past meals. In the center of the cave were the remains of a fire that had gone out, for no smoke drifted up from the ashes.
“Do you see any way in which we might get free?” Tullius asked Balbus
“No,” said Balbus in a discouraged voice, for he saw nothing within their reach which might help them escape. “Can you free us with your ma
gic?” he asked hopefully.
“I need my staff,” said Tullius miserably. His tightly bound wrists and ankles pained him intolerably, and he felt terribly foolish for letting the mutare outsmart him. Worse yet, he had allowed Balbus to be captured by enemies for a second time and was almost certain that this time there would be no escape. Before long, it would grow dark. Even if Elerian became alarmed about their absence, it was unlikely that he would be able to convince any of Balbus’s neighbors to venture out at night. They would have no idea where to look and would most likely wait until morning before venturing into the forest. Well before then, Tullius was certain that his gnawed bones and those of Balbus would join the others that already littered the cave floor.
“It seems this is the end, Balbus,” said Tullius. “I am sorry I failed you a second time.”
“It was not your fault,” insisted Balbus, stoutly refusing to blame his friend for the hopeless situation they found themselves in. “By the cunning look in his eyes, I should have guessed that Gratus was up to some trick.”
They fell into a glum silence, unconsciously straining their ears for the sound of returning footfalls which would signal that the mutare were returning at last to have their supper.
A DIFFICULT DECISION
Elerian spent a good part of the time Balbus was gone sitting on the front step with Carbo by his side, glumly watching the gate through the boundary hedge. At first, he was mostly concerned with his own feelings. “I hate being left behind,” he thought to himself more than once. “I wish Balbus would stop treating me like a child and tell me what this is all about.”
As the hour grew late and the sun drifted down behind him toward the sharp peaks of the Galerius, however, Elerian forgot about himself and began to worry about Balbus and Tullius. “They should have returned by now,” he thought to himself. “Grandfather would never willingly spend the night in the forest.” As the light of the sun dimmed and the evening shadows lengthened, Elerian began to have a strong feeling that something had gone wrong, and that he ought to do something.
“Tullius will refuse to train me, if he discovers that I left the farm to follow them,” he reminded himself, but the threat was no longer enough to hold him back. “I need to make sure they are not in any trouble,” he said firmly to himself. “Their safety is more important than my becoming a mage. Besides,” he thought to himself hopefully, “even if they are not in trouble, they should understand that I followed them out of concern, not because I wished to disobey them.”
Taking only his knife, Elerian left an unhappy Carbo behind to guard the house. When he reached the gate in the boundary hedge, the light was already gone under the trees, but he barely noticed as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Even on the darkest nights, Elerian was able to see every detail of the twisting roots that covered the forest floor and each individual leaf growing on the branches overhead.
As he followed the faint marks Balbus and Tullius had left behind on the forest floor, Elerian thought back to the time when he had first discovered that his ability to see in the dark was peculiar to himself. He was no more than seven then, hurrying back in the late evening from a bee hunting expedition with Balbus.
“Is something wrong grandfather,” he had asked when he noticed Balbus’s growing agitation.
“It is almost dark, Elerian,” Balbus had replied. “We have stayed out overlong, and it is time we were inside for the night.” Even as he spoke, Balbus had stumbled over a tree root which the growing darkness had concealed from his eyes.
Elerian had supported his right arm so that he did not fall, and had cautioned, “You must watch the tree roots grandfather, or you will hurt yourself.”
“That is not easily done in the dark, Elerian,” Balbus had replied.
“But what has the dark to do with your stumble over the tree root?” Elerian had asked in confusion.
“I tripped because I cannot see in the dark, Elerian,” Balbus had answered in a preoccupied tone, for he was concerned with finding his way through the trees and staying alert to any danger that might be about.
“Did some injury take away your night sight?” Elerian had asked curiously.
“No man can see well at night,” Balbus had replied, only half listening to Elerian, for they had finally arrived at the gate which led through the boundary hedge, and the relief flooding through him drove out other thoughts.
Aware for the first time that there was something which set him apart from Balbus, Elerian began to notice other differences in himself. He discovered that his sight and hearing were more acute than those of his grandfather. Often, when they were in the forest, he saw and heard things that Balbus was never aware of at all. At first, he had felt pride in his abilities, but after Balbus began warning him that he must try not to stand out, they were often a source of discomfort for him, for they made him different from everyone else.
Tonight, however, he was very glad to have his night sight. With little trouble, he followed the faint trail left by Balbus and Tullius, often marked by no more than a few scuffed leaves or a small hole which Tullius’s staff had poked through the carpet of leaves covering the forest floor. Although most of his attention was focused on the ground before him, Elerian still kept a careful watch all around him as he stole like a shadow through the forest. Once, he caught the gleam of a leopard’s eyes from where it crouched on a branch high overhead, and he quietly detoured around it. Another time, he stopped to let a small group of softly grunting, hairy forest pigs cross his path, their razor tusks gleaming white in the starlight.
As he neared the lowlands, Elerian became more and more worried. He kept hoping he would meet Balbus and Tullius on their way home, but the woods in front of him remained empty. Abruptly, he froze in place. From behind him and to his left, the sound of hard, unpleasant voices speaking softly had reached his ears.
Removing his light boots, Elerian quickly climbed a nearby chestnut tree by thrusting his strong fingers and toes into the gaps in its deeply fissured bark. Moments later, he pulled himself onto a broad branch thirty feet above the ground. As easily as a man might stroll down a wide, level path, Elerian ran lightly along the branch and dropped down flat on his stomach in the middle of a cluster of smaller branches thickly covered with leaves. Peering cautiously over the edge of the branch, he waited without moving; alert for the appearance of the owners of the voices he had heard.
A few moments later, two strange creatures appeared below him, walking at a leisurely pace on their short, thick legs as they followed approximately the same path Balbus and Tullius had taken. Their faces and figures were a strange blend of human and animal. One of them, the larger of the two, carried the limp form of a young forest pig across his broad shoulders.
“A waste of time Gratus,” grumbled one of the creatures. “There were no men in the traps. The boar could have waited until morning.”
“Better to be sure there were no men,” replied Gratus, unconcerned at his companion’s grumbling. “Now that we know the traps are empty, we can feast on the two men in the cave and sleep late.” Gratus was in good spirits despite the fact that their traps had produced only a young pig instead of a hunter or a woodcutter. It pleased him that this new country was yielding plentiful supplies of meat, even man’s flesh which they had rarely tasted in the desolate land where they had lived before. Best of all there were no Goblins here or even the rumor of them. Gratus had no good memories of his old masters and had no desire to come under their control again.
At the strange creatures’ words, Elerian felt his heart skip a beat. He had no doubt that the men Gratus referred to were none other than Balbus and Tullius, for it was unlikely that anyone else would be abroad this deep in the forest.
“I hope I am not too late to save them,” he thought to himself, for there was a strong possibility that the two men were already dead. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to decide how he might delay the two creatures below him so that he might have time to reach the men they were hold
ing captive. A daring plan came to mind, but it depended heavily upon using the magical power which so often failed to obey him when he sought to control it. Closing his eyes, Elerian concentrated on rousing his mage power, every muscle in his body rigid with the effort. The urgency he felt aided him, and gradually, Elerian felt the welcome sensation of power moving into left arm as it had when he had given himself the illusion of a lion. He opened his eyes and saw a flow of golden light spill from the ring on his left hand, spreading over his body until it covered him from head to foot. A moment later, his mage sight faded and the glow vanished. The illusion that covered him was now visible to Elerian’s eyes and disappointment flooded through him. His unpredictable power had given him the form of a spotted leopard instead of the terrifying form of a lion as he had hoped.
Knowing that the illusion might vanish at any moment, Elerian decided to make the best use he could of the unsatisfactory shape his unpredictable power had given him. Heart pounding in excitement, he left his branch and descended down the trunk of the tree, dropping silently to the ground behind the two mutare who had already walked past his hiding place. He rushed up silently behind the creatures and giving voice to the snarl of an attacking leopard, slashed the mutare on the right across the back of his thick calf with his knife, mimicking the strike of a leopard’s claws. The bright steel sliced through the tattered cloth covering the mutare’s leg and into the hairy skin beneath, leaving a shallow cut that bled freely.
The mutare Elerian had cut gave a sharp cry, but to his disappointment, both of the creatures whirled around to confront him instead of running away. The cry Elerian had uttered had startled the mutare, but the sight of him, in the guise of a crouching leopard barely an arm’s length away, failed to frighten either one of them. Heavy, muscular, and armed with long, yellowed fangs and sharp claws, either of them was more than a match for even a big leopard. Showing no sign of fear, Gratus flung the pig he was carrying at Elerian with such speed and quickness that he was hard put to dodge the carcass. Snarling like beasts themselves, the mutare drew their knives and rushed at Elerian.