by Nelson, J P
Ahnagites are almost human sized, slender in build and can leap great distances. While tree jumping isn’t their main means of travel, they can leap from tree trunk to tree trunk and swing branch to branch much like a monkey. Did I mention the vast forests of the Ahnagohr Range? These beings use no metal and fight with cudgels, spears and are very accurate with blow darts.
Ahnagites compete with the orgs for the same food supply, although it is believed the Ahnagites are omnivores who also consume many forms of vegetation. They are intelligent as well, and live in tribal communities which communicate through smoke signals. What all else they could do was a matter of speculation, but it was believed they could speak with animals. They could definitely imitate many animal sounds.
The smoke signals the scouts had seen had indicated a known adversary at the old human fort. That would mean food, and they didn’t like Mahrq. No wonder he was so agitated. We had been in the heart of his enemy’s territory while seriously undermanned.
Our pace was hard and fast. Yank would alternate between cantering, walking and loping the team. Hoscoe left the speed up to Yank. A smart leader knows when to trust their people with their own skills. Yank knew full well what was at stake and he knew how to handle a team. There would be no dallying and we had days of rough travel in front of us. I spent a lot of time on the box beside Yank and when he talked he was teaching me something.
“Everything has an art, Sed, even muckin’ a stall with a broke shovel. These horses need to know they can trust me, and I’m a’goin’ to have to trust them. I hold the lines just tight enough so they know I’m here. They have to depend on me to steer ‘em true, so I can’t be afraid or they’ll know it. Now, see here, I just guide ‘em. I don’t have to jerk all that hard. How’d you like someone to snatch a piece of metal between your teeth?”
All the while he talked while looking the trail and with a grin on his face. This wasn’t a time for jokes, but Yank was doing what he did best, maybe better than anyone else, and he was loving it. Even though we had a lot of travel time in front of us, it wasn’t a time for daydreaming or trying to figure my own personal questions. Every sense had to be alert. I might be a slave, but I was part of this party. And while there was much for me to learn, my elvin eyes and ears were the sharpest of the whole company.
“You are not just up there to ride, Sed, I need you. I need that elvin awareness of yours. Yes, I know you have a sense of things. You don’t know how to use it yet, and it takes training like everything else, but it is there. Be extra aware as you ride the box. If some creature tries to get your attention, then by Cherron’s Beard you let me know immediately.” Hoscoe slapped me on the arm with a wink and up to the top I went. But not before he personally instructed me in the use of the crossbow.
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The wizard’s name was Wahyene, and he was a faithful follower of the Meidran Cult. Depending on who you listened to, Meidra was one of the wives of Eayah, or his daughter, or his grand-daughter, or his great-grand-daughter, or a sick combination of all four. Eayah was, as I have mentioned before, the most prominent deity worshiped by humans in Aeshea. At least he had risen to that status in the last two hundred years or so.
The name Eayah could be traced back as far as the Kl’Duryq Wars, when the peoples of Aeshea fought with the Children of the Stars. According to story, Eayah was a descendent of these Children and sided with Oshang in the final battles. That was around nineteen hundred years ago. Somehow, this Eayah fellow got a hold of something, made a deal with some supernatural being, or whatever, and ascended into godhood. At least, that’s the story.
He disappeared and reappeared in culture tales throughout the centuries, sometimes as a tyrant and other times as a benevolent being. About five hundred years ago he surfaced as the head of a pantheon with several wives, most of them from different species, and some horribly disfigured children. Each of these were thought to be divinely empowered, most of whom were malevolent beings. Of these, Meidra was the worst and considered to be goddess of all abominations and manipulation. Her daughter, Cielizabeg, was a minor goddess of lust, lies and deceit.
The message depicted of Eayah at that time was: keep Eayah happy and he will keep his children off your back. The Eayahnite Pantheon was primarily worshiped by humans surrounding the western Kohntia Mountains, and then spread into the Phabeon Islands. But it never seemed to spread out beyond those areas. It appeared to die out again after about a hundred years, but resurged and began spreading like wildfire.
The strongest center of Eayahnite worship now seemed to be around the Plains of Shudoquar. One of the three high priests of the order was a human named Logan. He was said to be very conservative with a strong sense of fairness and integrity. It was Logan’s administration which was turning the view of Eayah into a positive one.
A key factor in Logan’s popularity was that he came from commoner’s roots. This was against the practice of the times, as higher level priests of nearly all religions came from aristocracy with strong political connections. More importantly, the number of higher levels priests who had actually cultivated power manifestation capability was incredibly rare. Logan had been a field clergy who waged war with werewolves, witches, an entire vampire cult, at least one demon lord, and won.
The word was that Meidra was trying to enter the physical world to take control from Eayah. This has always been part of the mythos, nor was she the only descendent of Eayah’s to be after his so-called throne, but when Wahyene said he followed Meidra my eyebrows went up.
The first night of camp I noticed Sormiske reading from a leathern binder. Focusing my never-nosey elvin eyes, I was astounded to see he was reading from a newly written Eayahnite Bible. ‘Now that made sense,’ I again thought with sarcasm. Someone else noticed, too.
René was polishing his bow and casually remarked, “I see you’re readin’ from the book of Eayah. Didn’t know you were religious and all.”
Sormiske looked up suddenly and curtly remarked, “Mind your own business.”
Everyone got quiet and René just looked up and shrugged his shoulders. He was no longer in any way under Sormiske’s authority, and in truth never really had been. He had been a captive of Mahrq’s, now he was working with Hoscoe. “Hey, just tryin’ to make conversation.”
Looking about and noticing everyone staring at him, Sormiske pouted and said, “I’m going to be a priest.”
Sophoria no Sha’Deim … of course, I thought. It was a religious exclamation I had heard once or twice as a child. A priest had come by a time or two, and he used the expression. I had never liked him, and he visited our quarters for several hours each time. When leaving he would try to rub my head, but I wouldn’t let him. He would pause at the front of our door when leaving and make this big, sweeping gesture toward us and say those words. Shael’s, that was a long time ago. I had been very little and had forgotten all about it.
There seemed to be much I had forgotten.
From off in the distance I saw Hoscoe look over and say, “I thought you planned to be a physician? At least, that was what you talked most about while in Dahruban.” It seemed to be an honest query without hint of contention, or was it?
Sormiske snapped an angry look at Hoscoe and was about to make some kind of remark, then quickly closed his mouth, looked around with his jaw pouted, and turned his back on the rest of us and went back to reading his book.
Out in the dangerous country, as we were, was not a time for any more trouble than absolutely necessary. So no one said anything about Sormiske’s aspiration. But it was clear several people wanted to laugh. I couldn’t help but notice Wahyene smile in a little crooked smirk. He wasn’t impressed either.
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Sormiske had his written commission from whomever, but it was clear who was actually in charge. It didn’t take long for even his retainers to comply with Hoscoe’s command. The second day we made great time until we ran into a snowdrift. We had to come up to
a complete stop and Wahyene climbed out of his roost in the wagon. This was a dangerous place should we be attacked, and everyone was on extra alert. There was no way around as the drift was in a cleft between two small hills.
Wahyene was looking dead center of the drift and starting to wave his hands around, when Hoscoe stopped him. You should have seen the look on Wahyene’s face. Hoscoe didn’t bat an eyelash, he just asked point blank, “What are you going to cast, good sir?”
“Efforahd’s Fallion Inflamatory, if you must know.”
“If that is something akin to a mass of flame, would you be so kind as to place it here …” Hoscoe pointed somewhat higher up on the left side, next to the hill itself, “and then one over there …” He pointed to the other side, “and then in the center where the flush of heat will proceed straight through.”
Wahyene just looked at Hoscoe with a deadpan expression.
“To maximize the economy of a masterful spell, no less.”
Wahyene thought about it a moment and said, “I’ve only prepared three of these effects for the day.”
“But, if we don’t get through this drift quickly, we may no longer need any of your other effects.” Hoscoe glanced back down the trail, then again to the drift and Wahyene while raising one eyebrow.
Wahyene raised both eyebrows, tilted his head sideways and sighed an expression of acceptance. Watching him let fly with those three balls of fire made everyone step back in awe. Like I said before, tough! Within five minutes we were hustling back down the trail.
Fortunately, René knew of this bit of trail. It was called the Ghost Road because of all the deaths which had taken place on it; supposedly many of the deceased were still traveling the road, trying to finish their journey. Once a well used game trail, it was traveled off and on for years by those brave enough to attempt navigation through the Ahnagohr Range. This was before the trail, which Stagus built upon, was found. There were several landmarks to go by, and thankfully the heavy snows had not yet started. Otherwise we would have been in even more trouble.
Well past noon on the third day we were getting close to exiting the eastern part of the Ahnagohr when I saw a shadow move diagonally across my lap. Looking up quickly I saw a huge, golden bird. A Saukeir, I thought, and it was so close, too. I froze. Bird … Saukeir … Drake … Damn! I glanced at the direction of the Saukeir’s flight and saw a large shadowy movement through the trees. I yelled, “Hoscoe, the trees!”
With no hesitation Hoscoe yelled, “Now Yank, now!”
Yank snapped the lines and yelled “Hee-yah-yah-yah!” The horses catapulted unlike anything I had ever seen. I was snapped into my seat by the impact of sudden motion. A shrill, spine searing series of war cries shattered the air and the edges of the woods seemed to come alive with bodies swinging through the trees.
They had not quite been in position to spring their trap, as they must have been trying to get farther ahead in order to close upon us like a swarm. Yank was driving like a hellion, yelling at the horses and snapping the ribbons, sometimes taking a long whip he had and cracking it above their heads; yet he had perfect control. Taking up the crossbow beside me I tried to aim at a body swinging fast to get next to the wagon. I fired but have no idea whether I hit my mark. Before I could reload I heard something hit the roof of the wagon behind me.
With a quick glance I saw an Ahnagite settling his balance and whipping a cudgel from his belt. I guess it was a his, I didn’t stop to ask its gender and they all looked alike. My blood quickened and breath left me in angst as I realized I had to protect Yank.
Grabbing the roof rail above and behind me, I curled into a reverse roll up and on top of the bouncing roof. Great! All of the fighting I had done up to now had been with fists, and not much of that. I was suddenly wishing I had wrestled with the fellows. No amount of shadow boxing can prepare you for real hand-to-hand combat, and these critters had weapons.
He apparently figured on close quarter work, so his spear was slung behind his body. The cudgel came fast with an over the top swing. Ducking under and through to the left side I knew I didn’t have the space to play this game. As he started his backswing blow I crossed my left arm over his right arm and desperately seized his weapon, my right hand came from down under, and grabbing the shaft from his hand I cranked hard up, over and back under again in a circle.
Wrenching his cudgel away I spun and quickly smashed his knee and then into his face, marveling at the same time that my movement worked. It caught us both by surprise and I pressed my forearm into his body, shoving him off of the roof even as another landed between me and Yank. The trap door came up halfway as I stepped, accidentally slamming it shut.
I was the target now as barky boy swung at me, but my adrenaline was rushing and I embraced it with a giddiness I couldn’t explain.
Countering his cudgel with my own we sparred for what was only seconds, but seemed a lifetime. Either by his skill or my accident, his club smashed my fingers causing me to drop my weapon. The wagon bumped hard and I fell, he also stumbled toward me and I saw an arrow suddenly transfix itself in his throat. He fell toward me and catching him with my feet I pressed up and back, throwing him over the back of the wagon.
I tried to run forward to the box, caught the rail and heard another thump behind me. Looking down I saw an iron pole, packed for use as a prying lever should the wagon get stuck. Snatching it up I turned just in time to see a bolt strike the new barky and deflect itself right through my own cloak and beyond.
Barky had his spear up and thrust to my torso. Blocking with my metal staff he tried twice more. On the third try I leveled my staff with my shoulders and threw it at his face, sideways. It hit him smack in the teeth and bounced right back where I could catch it, an accident, but I wasn’t complaining. Sweeping in a left-wise spinning low hook motion, I caught him behind the knee and threw him hard on his back, right on top of the trap door as once again it was rising.
Two more barky boys were jumping to the top and I ducked while raising my hands up to protect my head. It wasn’t my idea but they both landed into the ends of my metal staff and fell over the sides. The smelly fellow on his back wasn’t happy and decided to grab hold of my staff and kick me over the back of the wagon. I rolled and he came with me. Both of us fell over, but I had the presence of mind to let go the staff and grab for the canvas covering the back. It came partly loose and I fell to the ground, dragging behind the wagon. I was quickly reminded the wagon was moving at breakneck speed with Yank still yelling “Hiyah-hiyah!”
We hit a bump that raised me up in the air, and how I did it I don’t know but I landed on my feet. Sitting back I began skidding in the snow and was thankful for my hard-soled boots. If only I could keep my balance.
I saw yet another barky boy land on the wagon top, and then there was a flash of light and burned pieces of critter rained about me. Behind me someone was shouting, but with all of the noise I couldn’t make out who or what they were saying. Pulling myself along the canvas I climbed back up to the top of the wagon.
Wahyene was there with a cut dribbling blood from his head. Seeing me he handed me a crossbow saying, “We aren’t out of it yet …” Looking in front there must have been ten thousand orgs lining the hills and pass in front of us. Well, maybe not ten thousand, but a lot, anyway. My breath was coming fast and I held the weapon, looking at it I wondered if I could hit anything.
The orgs were lining up in front of the trail, and around the wagon came Hoscoe brandishing his sword. On the other side rode René and Thad as together they made to pave the way for the wagon. I felt like I was in the middle of one of my momma’s stories.
I could see ahead and the orgs were looking at each other as if we were crazy. Hoscoe lowered his sword point and drove forward with a battle cry of Haht’swei; René was firing arrows from the saddle and hitting everything he aimed at. Wahyene did his hands thing and smacking them together a bolt of lightning shot forward, hit the org in the center, then splintered off and hit
a bunch more. I was stunned at the sight and thought, ‘Wow!’
“Use the crossbow!” He yelled at me. There was a white looking bolt in the chamber and the string was drawn back. Happy for my elvin balance I tried to stay steady as I pointed into the bunch of orgs and fired, a surge of energy rushing through me as I pulled the trigger. Immediately the string drew back and another white bolt fizzled into place. ‘Mon’Gouchett!’ I thought. Again I pointed at something and fired. Was I hitting anything?
A horn blew, and then another from a distance. Were we going to make it? I could see them everywhere.
“Aim, take time to aim!” Wahyene yelled at me. From his hands I saw another multi-targeted bolt of lightning flash forward.
Aim … okay. I took an instant and sighted the crossbow. I hit one of the orgs center in the chest and he went down dead. Again, I felt that surge of energy. Yelling at Wahyene I yelled back at him, “Can you do that with another one?”
He gave me a glance and grabbed a crossbow, passed his hand over it while I fired twice more, and then handed it to me. Taking both weapons and tucking the butts into my armpits, I braced one foot on the front railing and felt the surge of energy pulse through me again. I could feel a humming in the grips of the weapons and some force inside me seemed to beg for release.
The whole world seemed to slow as I suddenly saw, clearly, one target at a time come into focus as I fired at one target after another. Faster, faster … the rush of heat ran through me en force. I could almost hear the singing of the wind blowing from behind me. I let the inner fire consume me as screaming with rage I fired each weapon as fast as I could pull the trigger … each org I hit was struck dead in his tracks, often with enough force to knock them over. I was oblivious to anything else but my own targets and a hot, rush of wind blowing threw my hair.