by A. Giannetti
“It does have an evil look admitted Ascilius, “but what do we do now? We must get across somehow.”
“Let us try your original plan and try to cross the bridge by the fortress,” said Elerian reluctantly.
“I do not like it,” said Ascilius, “but I do not see what other choice we have. If it must be the bridge then we should cross now. There is too much traffic on the road at night.”
They returned to the road, walking south through the thick forest that grew alongside it. After a little more than a quarter mile, the forest ended. Looking out from behind a thick screen of brush, they saw that the road had swung to the east, cutting across their line of travel before crossing the nearby river over a wide stone bridge, the same bridge Elerian had traversed when he was first brought into Nefandus. Looming over the bridge was the Goblin fortress across the river. It was near enough that Elerian could see the hooded sentries on the walls. There was no activity on the bridge, but that was sure to change as soon as the sun went down completely.
“How are we going to get across?” whispered Ascilius. “What if there is someone in the castle who can see us under the cloak of your ring’s invisibility spell?”
“I have an idea,” said Elerian. The sudden gleam in his eye immediately made Ascilius nervous. Elerian ended his invisibility spell, sending his ring away. Then, as Ascilius watched apprehensively, Elerian transformed himself. His tall, slender form wavered and shifted, settling into the outlines of one of the black forest pigs. He still had the same mischievous gleam in his little red eyes.
“No!” whispered Ascilius emphatically. “I refuse to masquerade as a pig. We will both end up on someone’s spit!”
His protests were useless, however, for Elerian had already cast a second spell. Ascilius once more had the odd feeling that his body had turned to water and was flowing into new channels.
“This is your worst idea yet,” he whispered hoarsely to Elerian before he, too, took on a four-footed shape.
Reluctantly leaving behind his knife and the remains of their food, Elerian set out for the bridge with Ascilius following unenthusiastically behind. When they were near the bridge, Elerian stepped out onto the shoulder of the road. All was clear, and he trotted across, closely followed by Ascilius, their hard hooves clicking on the stones of the roadbed. Hearts racing, expecting an alarm to ring out from the nearby fortress at any moment, they both stayed near to the low wall that ran along the left side of the bridge. All remained quiet, however, and Elerian began to feel more confident.
“Surely this is not the first time the guards have seen pigs cross this bridge with the forest so close by,” he thought to himself. When they stepped off the bridge, Elerian looked over to his left at the small guardhouse that was set back a little from the road. He felt his heart beat speed up again, for it was occupied, something he had not expected since it was still daylight. Standing in front of the structure were two black clad mutare, looking bored and half-asleep, as they leaned on their spears in the shade of the guardhouse.
It was too late to go back. Elerian darted to the far side of the road as a real pig might at seeing the mutare. Ascilius followed suit. At the sight of Elerian and Ascilius running past them, both mutare straightened up, watching the running pair with hungry yellow eyes.
“Fresh meat tonight,” said one of them in low, growling voice. Eyes lit with anticipation, both mutare raised their spears as Elerian and Ascilius made a dash for a thicket that grew at no great distance from the right shoulder of the road. The mutare threw their spears at the same time, the first spear to arrive missing Elerian but scoring Ascilius, who was running on his right side, across both of his hind legs, just under his upraised tail. The Dwarf gave a most convincing squeal and put on a truly amazing burst of speed that carried him past Elerian in an instant. The second spear passed across Elerian’s back, shearing through the thick hair and leaving a long, shallow, bloody cut across his shoulders. He redoubled his speed and disappeared into the thorn thicket behind Ascilius, leaving the disappointed mutare behind, for they did not dare to leave their post.
Elerian and Ascilius continued running through the thorn bushes that grew near the road until they were well away from the mutare and the fortress. They then crossed over to the far side of the road, for it now angled south toward Mordfyn while they wished to continue traveling east. Once they left the road behind, they found themselves on a wide, level plain covered with short, coarse grass interspersed with small clumps of thorny brush. The occasional blackened stumps of trees showed that the land had been burned over at some time in the past. The nearest standing trees were almost a mile away to the east, growing on a low hill, a solitary outlier of the line of foothills and mountains that rose up in the distance behind it.
Darting from one clump of brush to the next, Elerian and Ascilius made their way toward the solitary hill and the cover it offered.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” grumbled Ascilius, as he followed close behind Elerian. “We are both wounded already, and we have miles to go before we reach the mountains.”
“At least we are across the bridge,” said Elerian reasonably, “and this side of the river seems deserted. I will heal our wounds as soon as we reach the trees. At worst, you will have another scar to brag about.”
“This is one scar that will never see the light of day if I can help it,” grumbled Ascilius. “I shall feel it for a week every time I sit down.”
Nothing pursued them, and they kept on until they reached the thick grove of black oaks growing on the hill. They paused to rest under cover of the trees.
“We will soon be safely in the mountains,” said Elerian confidently as he healed their wounds. They were about to start on their way again, when the distant sound of horns and trumpets rang out, shattering the stillness around them. Together they rushed to the edge of the woods on the western side of the hill. Keeping out of sight behind the tree trunks, they peered out at the fortress with their nearsighted eyes.
THE DARK HUNT
“Can you see what is going on?” asked Ascilius urgently.
“Everything is a blur,” said Elerian, “but there is no doubt that a great company is leaving the gates of the fortress. I can hear the shouts of the Mordi and the harsh voices of many mutare.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Ascilius suddenly. “That is a hunting party. I can hear the baying of the hounds and the horns of the keepers already. Change us back,” he said urgently. “I wish to die as a Dwarf not as a slab of bacon.”
“I feel that I can only do one more difficult spell for each of us tonight,” said Elerian uncertainly. “Perhaps we should wait. They may not be after us at all. Even if they do come this way, we can retreat into the mountains behind us.”
“We will be seen as soon as we leave this hill,” objected Ascilius. “Change me back while there is still time,” he demanded again. “If anything happens to you, I will be trapped in this form.”
“Very well,” said Elerian. Reluctantly, he changed himself and Ascilius back to their natural forms. A wave of weakness that threatened to unhinge his knees washed over him after he completed the second spell. “That is the last complex magic that I will be able to perform until I have rested for a bit,” thought Elerian to himself as he leaned against a tree for support. When he turned his eyes toward the Goblin fortress, the scene that had been a blur to the nearsighted eyes of the boar was now sharp and clear to his gray eyes.
A great company was riding from the fortress. In the van rode a small company of huntsmen astride sleek black atriors. They carried whips in one hand and horns in the other. Now and again, they winded their horns, the harsh notes drifting across the plain to where Elerian and Ascilius waited. Behind the masters of the hunt, a large pack of black hounds strained against their leashes, which were held in the hands of powerful mutare on foot. Behind the hounds rode a large company of Urucs, dressed in supple black leather. They were armed with long, black bladed spears, held
upright in their hands, butt end thrust into one of their stirrups. Behind the mounted Urucs marched numerous Mordi, clad all in black and also carrying spears. Several large wagons, pulled by black oxen and driven by Ancharians, followed the Wood Goblins. Last in line was an open wagon carrying three large wooden cages, each cage holding a shaggy black boar. Elerian could hear them squealing in terror and saw them throwing themselves against the wooden bars of the cages in a mad attempt to escape. He felt sorry for the beasts, but at the same time, he was relieved at the sight of them. Tonight, at least, the Goblins were hunting other prey besides himself and Ascilius.
Turning his head to speak to Ascilius, he noticed for the first time that the Dwarf had disappeared. He heard a rustle of leaves behind him, and a moment later, Ascilius appeared, with a heavy club clenched in his right hand and a grim expression on his face.
“They are not hunting us,” Elerian said quietly to Ascilius. “They are bringing their own game on the last wagon.”
“Let us retreat to the hilltop then and hide until they return to their fortress,” said Ascilius in a relieved voice.
Together, they climbed back up the hill. Through a gap in the trees, they were able to watch the Goblins approach. To their alarm, the hunting party headed directly for the hill on which they were concealed. In the midst of the Urucs, Elerian saw a flash of red and noticed for the first time a tall Uruc wearing an iron crown, set with rubies that glowed with a sullen red light.
“Torquatus himself is here,” thought Elerian to himself.
“Do you suppose they know we are here?” asked Ascilius nervously. “Perhaps they mean to make us a part of their hunt.”
“The same thought had crossed Elerian’s mind, but before he could reply, the hunting party stopped, barely a quarter of a mile away. Both Elerian and Ascilius drew a sigh of relief. There was still a good chance they would escape the notice of the Goblins.
As they continued to watch from the hilltop, the wagon carrying the boars was brought to the forefront of the company. Powerful mutare lowered all three cages to the ground. When they opened the doors of the cages, the boars shot out of their prisons and away from the assemblage as fast as their feet would take them. Two of the beasts ran directly toward the line of mountains that rose up in the north, but to their horror, Ascilius and Elerian saw the third boar run directly toward the hill where they were hiding.
A great fanfare of horn blasts rent the air, and the baying hounds were released from their leashes. The pack split into two groups, with the majority of them pursuing the boars that had fled toward the mountains in the north. With an eager shout, the mounted Urucs also split their ranks and urged their atriors after the hounds. Elerian was relieved to see Torquatus join the larger party of Urucs riding toward the north. He and Ascilius watched apprehensively as the boar fleeing toward their hill drew closer and closer. “The beast will lead them right to us,” groaned Ascilius.
Then, only a few hundred feet from the base of the hill, a dozen of the shaggy black hounds overtook the boar, bringing it to bay. Barking excitedly, they surrounded it, rushing in to tear at its sides and hindquarters. Whenever the beleaguered boar tried to slash them with its tusks, they leaped nimbly out of reach. A half dozen Urucs drew up behind the hounds. Taking turns, they rode up to the boar, stabbing it lightly with their long spears before retreating. As he listened to the high-pitched squeals of the boar and watched the blood run in streams down the poor beast’s sides, Elerian realized that this was not a real hunt. It was an exercise in cruelty, an entertaining way for the Goblins to torment the animal in front of them. When the boar weakened from its wounds and loss of blood, the hounds darted in to worry it, and the riders dismounted. With great relish, they plunged their long knives into the exhausted animal.
With a high pitched, despairing squeal, the boar finally expired. Several huntsmen beat the hounds back, and one of the Urucs extended his right hand toward the boar’s body. A moment later, Elerian was horrified to see its shape change into that of a man. As the Uruc stepped back, the huntsmen dismounted and butchered him like an animal.
“You can see the fate that awaits us all if Torquatus succeeds with his war,” whispered Ascilius grimly to Elerian. “See him now in the thick of the Dark Hunt.”
Elerian looked away from the gory scene playing out near their hill. He saw Torquatus, recognizable by his crown, in the midst of a second group of Urucs who had dismounted to slay another boar. Like his companions, he was on foot, thrusting a long knife into the boar they had brought to bay. Farther to the north, the third boar had also been brought to bay by the hounds and died in a similar manner.
While the hunt was taking place, a great, open sided pavilion, striped black and red, had been erected a quarter mile west of the hill where Ascilius and Elerian had hidden themselves. Beneath it were trestle tables covered with black linen chased with intricate scarlet and silver designs. Scores of crystal goblets and glittering decanters of wine covered the tables, set out for the pleasure of the king and his Urucs. Red mage lights hung in the air beneath the roof of the pavilion, casting a bloody hue over everything beneath them.
A large fire burned near the pavilions. The returning Urucs took their ease near it on folding chairs set up around it, laughing, and drinking from crystal goblets while they waited for their meal to be prepared. No one seemed to have any interest in the nearby hill, and Elerian and Ascilius hoped that they would remain undiscovered.
Then, a group of Mordi, armed with axes, left the pavilions, walking directly toward the hill. Elerian and Ascilius watched apprehensively as they disappeared from sight behind a screen of trees. Even though they were out of sight, Elerian could hear two of them talking amongst themselves.
“One of the sentries on the walls reported that two boars entered this wood today and did not emerge again,” said one.
“Perhaps we should look for them,” said a second voice. “There are many Urucs tonight. It is certain that there will be no man flesh for the poor Mordi. Even the bones will go to the hounds.”
“If we make a kill, we can return later, after bringing the firewood,” said the first voice. “We can have our own feast on the far side of the hill where no one will see us.”
The thunk of axes biting into wood rang out then, but Elerian also heard two sets of footsteps stealthily entering the wood covering the hill. He motioned to Ascilius, and they retreated behind two wide oak trees growing fairly close together. Elerian heard the Mordi quietly searching the face of the hill, each stealthy step they took bringing them nearer to the summit.
“Nothing,” said one of the Mordi from close by. “Maybe they are hiding on the back of the hill.”
Elerian heard quiet footsteps approaching the tree behind which he had hidden himself. When the unsuspecting Wood Goblin stepped around the tree, Elerian seized his head with both hands, breaking his neck with a single powerful twist of his wrists. Seeing him in the open, the second Mordi rushed at him with his ax upraised, but before he could bring it down on Elerian’s head, Ascilius stepped from behind the second tree and felled him with a single blow to the head from his club.
“We must run for it,” said Ascilius urgently. “Once these two are missed, the hunt will be on.”
“Let us hide the bodies first,” said Elerian. “That may buy us some time.”
Extending his right hand, he cast a spell that carried the dirt away from between a pair of thick tree roots, leaving a shallow hole. It was scarcely deep enough to hold the bodies, but it was all that Elerian felt he could manage in his present weakened state. He and Ascilius cast the dead Mordi into the trench, covering them with several inches of dirt pushed back in with their hands and feet. When they had scattered fallen leaves over the top of the grave, the ground looked undisturbed to the casual eye.
“Unless they bring in hounds, they may not be found for a long time,” said Ascilius in a satisfied voice. Together, they set off, down the eastern face of the hill. Behind them, they cou
ld still hear the faint sounds of revelry from the Goblin encampment. Once they left the cover of the trees, they ran toward the mountains, keeping the hill between themselves and the Goblins enjoying their feast on the far side of it. Ascilius led the way, setting a good pace in spite of his shorter legs.
They were close enough to see the individual trees of the wood covering the mountains before them when the hunting horns of the Goblins suddenly brayed again. Without hesitation, Ascilius and Elerian plunged into a small clump of low thorn bushes to their right, ignoring the long spikes that tore at their flesh and hair. Unconsciously holding their breath, they crouched down low, waiting to see if they had been discovered. The horns sounded again, but they seemed fainter now. Elerian touched Ascilius’s left shoulder and pointed to the east. When the Dwarf turned in that direction, he saw the first faint, rosy flush of the coming dawn behind the sharp peaks of the mountains.
“They are going back to the fortress ahead of the sunrise,” said Ascilius exultingly. “The bodies of the Mordi must have remained undiscovered.”
“Perhaps they were never missed,” said Elerian thoughtfully. “I would imagine desertions are common among such folk. It seems to me the Dark King commands his people through fear not loyalty.”
“There is no word for loyalty in the Goblin tongue,” said Ascilius contemptuously. “It is a notion that is beyond them.”
“Shall we run or walk?” asked Elerian, as they rose to their feet. “You must be tired after running all this distance at your advanced age.”
“Ha!” said Ascilius. “The day will never come when a Dwarf tires before an Elf.”
Avoiding the thorns around him as best he could, he crawled to the edge of the thicket and resumed his tireless trot toward the mountains, Elerian following along behind. Once they reached the forests that covered the foothills, Elerian breathed more easily. He was pleased to see that there were not any of the dark trees of the Goblin land here, only normal appearing oak, ash, and chestnut trees. They walked now, instead of running, keeping a careful watch all around in case there were enemies nearby. By evening, they were deep into the mountains where they took refuge in a narrow ravine with a swift mountain brook running down the center. It resembled a great leafy cave because of the leaf clad tree limbs that overhung it. They were without food and weapons again, but after a short rest, Ascilius watched as Elerian formed a long bladed, razor sharp knife and an ax head from two lumps of granite. Ascilius hefted the ax head. It was well balanced and almost as clear as glass with red and blue threads running through it.