by Bill Mays
“What’s it going to be, boy?” Barst prodded. “This axe is getting heavy. Surrender now and call off your dogs!”
“I - I surrender,” the Drackmoorian broke down, “Please, spare me! I can’t really control them, though. I - I never wanted to do this in the first place. They didn’t say anything about innocent people being involved, only soldiers ….” The young man’s whiny ramblings came to a sudden end as Flade struck him from behind with the pummel of his dagger, knocking the youth to the ground where he stayed, unmoving.
Barst smiled warmly at the newcomer. “My thanks, young man, and you have Timbre’s eternal gratitude for your aid. As you can see, we are in a bit of a tight spot here. I’m afraid you’ve joined a losing battle.”
Flade waved away the gratitude. “Tell us where we may be of assistance, my good man. The lady in white and I are trained in combat and our well-endowed friend is a priestess, believe it or not.” The ranger looked into the eyes of the bearded man and he saw a new fire of hope burning. That was enough to renew Flade’s own tired flames.
“At the moment, anywhere would be helpful. If you see a goblin, kill it. If a person lives, help them to the inn for treatment. It’s near the center of town.”
“Understood,” Flade nodded as he moved to consult with his companions. The bearded axe-wielder was instantly off to help deal with the steady stream of goblins flying over the eastern wall.
Two women working as relief greeted Dalia and Arianna. They offered to take the Kandairian soldier back with them, but Arianna assured them her assistance would be needed. The man was not light and both relief women were slim and frail looking, not to mention a good six inches shorter than the priestess was. Flade got to them just in time to wish Arianna luck and give a quick explanation of the sad situation the town was in. After a brief summary of the trouble spots, Flade and Dalia chose their separate paths.
“Forgive me for dragging you into this, Dalia,” Flade pleaded.
“Nonsense, no one drags me anywhere,” she flashed the man her pearly white smile and dashed off to save a child from a pursuing goblin. “Just make sure it is all worth it! Let us save this town and her people,” she shouted back over her shoulder.
“Agreed,” Flade whispered to himself. A quick visual sweep of his surroundings showed the hole in the west wall where a margul was struggling to crawl through. “Looks like I’m needed,” the ever-upbeat swashbuckler sang to himself as he sprinted for the crouched creature.
Flade swept down on the unprepared intruder as quickly as a flashflood in the desert. Marguls were not an adversary to be toyed with. Both swift and strong, the giant goblins were far more capable than their smaller cousins were. They were much smarter, too.
“Sorry, you’re not welcome,” Flade quipped as he sank his weapons into the monster.
The swift ranger slashed the creature only twice before it withdrew back through the hole. Flade contemplated giving chase, but just as quickly tossed that idea aside. He held the advantage where he was. There came several jabs of spiky clubs through the hole next. More guttural shouts followed. It sounded like an argument. How many of the creatures were out there he could not tell. It was quiet for a moment, and then one of the big creatures dove through the opening. These creatures were agile for their bulk. Flade sank his knife in as the beast passed by, but his dagger missed entirely.
“Good move,” the ranger congratulated his enemy. “That was something I’d do.”
As the hairy thing regained its stance, Flade realized this could be a bad situation. How many more were out there ready to crawl through while he was busy in combat. An arrow took the advancing margul in the shoulder. Both ranger and beast looked up to the watchtower where a young girl smiled nervously. She held up two fingers and pointed over the wall. So, there were two more still to come, Flade pondered. I will have to thank her properly when this is all over, the ranger thought to himself. The sound of another creature crawling through the hole behind him was all too present.
“No time to worry about that,” the agile man whispered to himself. “Deal with the one at hand. Those sounds just mean you’ll have more fun to come.”
Flade did a quick series of handsprings towards the enraged margul. The creature swung hard with its club in an attempt to knock the human senseless. It missed. Flade, on the other hand, did not miss. Both blades sank deep into his opponent. The ranger stood right before the big creature, face-to-face, but only for a second. Away the man sprang just in step to dodge that nasty spiked club again. When Flade turned toward the wall, there were now two more of the ugly monsters standing there.
“Three against one. Maybe I’ll just use one hand. I wouldn’t want to fight unfairly, now would I?” The lithe man teased. He kept a dimpled smile on his face throughout the fight.
“Smash the puny one!” One of the newcomers grunted with a sadistic grin.
So, they understood the common tongue. That made sense if the Drackmoorians were leading them.
“I know I’m a little thin, but don’t you think puny is a bit harsh?” The sandy-haired man replied indignantly. Both new opponents raised their weapons high and roared their challenge. Another speedy arrow took one of them in the gut. “Thanks again,” Flade sighed. “I really do owe that girl.” The injured monster ripped the shaft from his belly then rushed off to scale a certain watchtower after a certain pesky archer. “Aww … was it something I said?” Flade smiled at the two remaining opponents. “That just means more hurt for the two of you.” He began twirling his blades between his fingers as the two advanced on him. “Let’s make this quick, boys. I have a maiden to rescue.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Dalia kept herself occupied holding watch over the town’s small inn. She guarded the streets surrounding the structure as best she could manage. The people had converted the centrally located structure into a shelter for their weak and injured. The lady was making the children her concern. There just were not enough adults to keep up with the many who were now orphaned. They were helpless to defend themselves and the goblins saw them only as easy prey.
“I will not let them suffer for no other reason than being born in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she spoke aloud for her own resolve.
Hearing the words reminded her that many more children were being orphaned because of the spreading war. It helped to keep her focused on their true goal, finding Tark and then finding a way to end the invasion. In her heart, she knew the two goals were related.
One, then another, then another of the little mongrels came for the easy targets. Dalia was quick to dispense with the sick predators, always rushing to head off the next goblin. Her mask of stone remained in place. She could not let emotions take hold of her, for the children’s sake. She wondered how much longer the siege would last. The town was on its last leg. She feared their help was only delaying the inevitable.
Arianna was inside the makeshift infirmary. The priestess used her small knowledge of basic wound dressing more than she liked. With her healing prayers drained, she was little more than an extra set of hands, not that the small, five-woman relief team was complaining. They would gladly accept all the help they could get. At least twenty of the townsfolk were stretched out on various mats around the common room. There were a few more in the small bedrooms up the stairs. Arianna sadly found the need to pull the sheets over the heads of more than one patient who had passed on to whatever afterlife awaited them. She whispered quick prayers to Rashas for their souls. Crying children were everywhere. The relief team sobbed as they worked, forced to watch life-long friends and loved ones dying despite their best efforts. She began to feel more and more enraged as she immersed herself in whatever assistance she could offer. How many times had similar events played out across Kandair? Why would anyone want to cause such horrors? There had to be a way to put an end to this senseless violence. A goblin crashed through a previously boarded window. The creature held a look of wild excitement as the women and children cried out
and moved to take cover. Some of the badly injured men tried to rise and defend them, but their efforts were unsuccessful. The only reason they were on the mats is that they had been wounded beyond fighting ability. Arianna had seen enough. The usually gentle woman moved for the creature before it chose a victim and before she knew what had come over her. The woman carried her slim cudgel gripped tightly in her hands.
“Rashas, give me the strength I need to oppose this evil,” she mumbled the prayer through clenched teeth.
She felt a slight tingle slide down her shoulders. The divine blessing gave her strength to fight. The goblin never knew what hit him. The woman began beating the little creature as if it were a weasel that had sneaked into the hen cage. After three solid blows, the goblin needed a sheet, too. What was becoming of her? She pondered this thought as she stared down on her gruesome handiwork.
“Goddess, thank you for your blessings and forgive me, that wasn‘t very pretty,” she whispered under her breath.
Arianna began to wonder if she was truly following her calling. Rashan priestesses did not get involved in battles and she had seen several over the last months. Had she lost her path after so long on the road? Was she misusing her goddess’ blessings? She looked up from the mangled body of the goblin to the faces of frightened children, injured men and tearful women. The entire room broke into clapping cheers for their beautiful savior. Arianna smiled her appreciation and jumped right back into her mending duties. Her questions were answered. It felt good to be of help and to be appreciated.
“Thank you again for your guidance and protection,” she whispered to her matron goddess.
* * * * * * * * * *
Flade heard the girl’s screams as he dodged one spiked club after another. A twist to the side at just the right moment, followed by a handspring carried the slim man away from his two massive attackers. He could see the third margul hauling itself onto the watchtower’s platform, the same place the young archer waited, alone. The battle was taking far too long. The young woman needed him.
“Damn!” He swore loudly.
He then spotted a lone figure scaling the ladder to join the girl. It was the same curly-haired, bearded man who greeted him upon his arrival into town. He prayed the two could handle the beast. If only he could manage to get away from these two, he could try to help save the girl. Flade felt like he owed her that much. He sidestepped another spiked club and sank his knife into the exposed forearm of his hairy attacker. The agile ranger then danced away as the two came for him in unison. A misplaced step sent him sliding to a seated position on the dusty street. The marguls wasted no time in pressing their advantage. Flade focused on evasion. He rolled to the side avoiding the first smashing club. He then tumbled to the other side as spikes sank in where he had been. The big monsters were not stupid. They had him at their mercy and intended to keep him that way. They kept their attacks in rapid succession, giving him no time to recover. One strong, hairy leg kicked him in the ribs. Flade grunted and rolled away. He looked up to see the other attacker poised to crush his head with its club. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a sword punched its way through the creature’s chest from behind. Even the margul looked surprised as it stumbled to the ground dead, in its place stood Manifor Stormblade looking much the worse for wear. The stocky man, although bathed in blood, held his sword and shield at the ready.
“Are you just going to lay there, wilderness man, or can you give me a hand with the other one?”
“What a sight for sore eyes you are!” Flade smiled broadly, as he easily sprang to his feet.
Two other Kandairians were busy pulling a third through the same hole the marguls had entered from. A certain gangly rodent-looking man was close behind them, carrying his blackbird. Not surprisingly, Ganze looked unscathed.
“We thought you lost to the battle,” Flade grinned.
“Sorry we’re running late. We were delayed,” Mani grinned back. The knight then charged the remaining margul with his favorite shout, “For Kandair!”
The ranger shot a couple of his throwing knives into the monster to slow it down before sprinting off for the watchtower. “I hate to fight and run, but I’m sure you can handle this one. There is a certain maiden in need of my help at the moment. Get the injured man to the inn at the center of town!” He called out to Mani as he ran for the tower.
“Sure, of course,” Mani growled, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it all under control. You heard him men. Get that boy to the inn, now.” The margul peeled back its lips into a snarl revealing two rows of very sharp teeth. Its large, hairy, pointed ears flattened back against the sides of its head. “Don’t you go smiling at me, monster. You’re going down no matter how much you try to play nice.” Mani batted the club aside with his shield and dove for the monster’s exposed chest with his sword and another battle cry.
* * * * * * * * * *
The young archer, Jillian Pandle, held her bow like a club when the margul rolled onto the platform with her. Her supply of arrows was depleted. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. True, she was a feisty one who prided herself on being just as good at anything physical as any of the boys her age; but at sixteen summers, she was still very young. She screamed despite herself at the sight of the ugly monster as it rose to its full height. The creature was huge. Its sharp teeth and gleaming amber eyes promised death. It stood before her with a look of pure evil as it slowly pulled two arrow shafts from its body. Those had been her last two arrows and they did not stop it. She thought about throwing herself from the platform, but she was too afraid. It was a long drop and she did not want to die. They were twenty feet up with hard earth beneath them. The girl prayed she could avoid the creature and reach the ladder behind him. Her face was wet with tears. She just wanted it all to end. Why had they come to her town anyway? What did they want? She watched the goblins kill her elderly father. She had seen Brenden Reedmeyer, the fastest boy in town, slain as well, the same boy she had been secretly in love with since she was only ten summers old. He was gone in the blink of an eye. Many she respectfully called aunt or uncle fell to the beasts and now it was her turn.
“N-no p-please,” she begged the monster, “I don’t want to die.”
It only laughed at her with a wicked grin. Battered hands appeared reaching over the lip of the platform, human hands. Her hopeful eyes gave away the man’s location. It was Uncle Barst. He looked worn and so very tired, but he pulled himself up tall and drew forth his bloody axe.
“Leave the girl alone!” The mayor ordered.
The margul looked from man to girl and back again. “Stupid, frail little humans,” it chuckled.
It reached out with one large hand to shove the frightened girl from her feet, and then turned to engage the weary man. It was saving the smaller one for later. He wanted to make her suffer for her stinging arrows. Jillian screamed out as the creature knocked her backwards to the wooden planks. The strength behind the shove sent the slender girl sliding to, then over, the edge of the watchtower’s landing. Barst watched in horror as the girl went shrieking off the edge of the platform. He lost control.
“You bastard!” He roared as he dove for the margul with his axe.
The axe bit deeply, but the margul punched Barst in the face at the same time. His head snapped backwards. Like a rag doll, the man crumpled to his knees. With an axe embedded in the monster’s shoulder, the margul rocked this way and then that way. Its balance was thrown off due to the injury and the heavy weapon protruding from its body. It struggled to stay alert, but much blood poured from its many wounds. Barst was struggling to stay alert himself. Stars swam in his vision. He shook away the blur long enough to see Jillian’s fingers desperately clutching to the edge of the platform. He moved for her on hands and knees, fighting to stay awake, but the margul fell upon him with a snarl. The last thing he saw was something brown and green sail over him, and then all went black.
- Chapter 6 -
King Karzack
The air stank o
f stagnant water and rotted plants mixed with an unusual acrid smell. Wispy fog drifted between the tangled trees and swirled just above the thick, muddy ground. They avoided the occasional small geysers of stinging sulfuric liquid that shot skyward, the same geysers that gave this place its name. A bubbling sound always preceded the small acidic fountains, making them easy to evade. A steady drizzle of rain fell on them since entering the borders of the Acid Swamps. Trudging through the mud day after day began to wear on the group. It was beginning to wear on the two who had to walk in that mud, anyway.
“I don’t recall this trek being so -- messy,” Herrin grumbled as she sloshed through the thick mud sucking at her every step. She constantly struggled with her many pouches and satchels to keep them from getting muck-covered or snagged on briars. “I was much younger last time around, though,” she acknowledged with a sigh.
Tark only grunted. He was going through another of his many mood swings. Everything annoyed him at the moment.
“There are definite benefits to having wings,” the tremlin giggled. A glare from the gladiator was enough to quiet even Ado.
“I sometimes wonder what life would be like without wings, though. Don’t you, Mr. Ado?”
Nivit darted by and happened to catch the gremlin’s comment. She now hovered very closely in front of the mage with a pleasant grin on her heart-shaped face, her former fountain of hair plastered to her head in a wet mass. Even the murky weather failed to dampen the fairy’s bright spirits. A moment passed before Ado realized she expected an answer.