Fireclaws - Search for the Golden

by T. Michael Ford

  Suddenly, a huge gray form dropped straight down from the equally gray sky. With one flick of its bat-like wings, it batted the horse, screaming in terror, her feet cartwheeling over her head, crashing into a copse of trees thirty feet away. It was a huge brute, easily twelve feet tall. It appeared to be made from flat gray stone, except for the cruel eyes which gave off a blood-red color as it glanced at me and smirked. I had heard of creatures called gargoyles before and had even seen carved representations of them on some city buildings but, believe me, none of them did justice to this specimen. Andea, of course, could see none of this and was standing in the middle of the camp petrified with fear. Before I could even make it half the distance to my sister, the monster grabbed the back of her clothes in its talons, launched itself back into the still air, and carried her screaming away.

  I pulled the bone dagger, our only weapon, back out of my boot. Thankfully, Daffi had staggered back onto her hooves, her sides heaving with pain, but I couldn’t attend to her now. The gargoyle carrying Andi was already starting to pick up airspeed and height. Casting my fly spell, I felt the reassuring air pressure build under me and I was up. If you aren’t used to it, the amount of concentration needed to fly in a straight line was daunting, but years in the military had honed my skills with a couple key spells at least.

  By the time I had reached the same height above the ground as the creature, I had already closed two-thirds of the distance between us. It was single-mindedly headed in one direction and either wasn’t aware of, or more likely wasn’t concerned about, my presence. Putting everything I could into additional speed, I approached him from slightly above. Below me, the ground was passing in a blur, but a dark movement caught my eye for just a second. It was a black horse, running impossibly fast across the uneven ground below us, her mane and tail swept back by the force of her gallop.

  Reorienting on the gargoyle, I lost a little altitude and moved to my attack. By now, the creature had shifted Andi into one of its heavily-muscled arms, which left it with only one taloned hand available for attack, and I would come in from the other side to avoid it. The only weakness I could see in this creature was the thin leathery wings so they became my first target. If I could somehow shred those so that he had to land, I would at least have a better chance of a rescue. If nothing else, I would make it fight me and possibly give Daffi time to make off with my sister.

  All these thoughts ran wild through my head as I moved closer to plunge the dagger down into the wing surface between the fingers. The razor sharp tip just skidded across the leather, doing no damage whatsoever despite my putting everything I had into the strike. With a roar, he inverted and I felt a wing buffet crush into my face and chest, sending me flailing backward. Stabilizing, I rushed to rejoin the attack and again struck with the dagger. The first inch of the blade snapped off with a crisp bone-breaking sound, again doing no damage, and again I was pounded with an offhand wing slap. We had been flying for the better part of twenty minutes now, and I could feel the extra magic I had put into the spell starting to wane.

  I was thinking about the advisability of trying to land on its back to force it down, but it seemed that the creature was already losing altitude. The earth swells we had been flying over were gradually turning to actual hills with more serious cutbacks and small cliffs, so it wasn’t an area to crash land in. My inattention was nearly the death of me again, as the gargoyle snapped over on its back and just missed me with one of its wicked claw swipes. But still, he was sinking lower; perhaps he was tiring. Unfortunately, it appeared my fly spell might fail due to fatigue first. I had put everything I had into speed and I was feeling a little wobbly.

  We were approaching a long hill line that it appeared the stone monster was only going to clear by about twenty feet or so, when I mustered the last of my energy and sped up to catch him. This close to the ground if I could bring us both down, it probably wouldn’t be fatal anyway.

  Imagine my surprise when he cleared the ridge and dropped down to land, me hot on his tail and concentrating on his back. Suddenly, I realized we were right in the middle of a large encampment of heavily-armed and armored men. My army training kicked in and I estimated fifty or more. Crap! Mentally backpedaling, I slowed my airspeed and pulled up, just in time for a dozen longbowmen to draw arrows and nock them. I tried to duck back behind the ridgeline just as I saw a small black cloud of projectiles rise up from their position. At least three of the arrows hit me directly in the chest and stomach. The force from the yew-propelled shafts knocked the air out of me and I didn’t even feel the steel tips pierce my body.

  The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, blood running in streaks down my scraped up face. A large black shaggy horse stood over me as more arrow shafts rained down upon us and impacted her body. With a supreme effort, Daphne reached down and grabbing my collar with her teeth, and started dragging me down the back side of the hill away from the bowmen. Pulling me into a swale behind a boulder where there was some immediate short-term shelter, Daffi wheezed, shakily.

  “Kerrik! Can you ride for a bit? We have to get out of here; more men are coming down the hill to finish you off.”

  “Andi,” I croaked, still unable to draw a full breath.

  “You can’t help her if you are dead,” the pooka snorted weakly. That’s when I looked up at her and saw at least a dozen arrow shafts buried deep in her heaving sides. “Climb on and ride, Wizard!”

  Struggling to my knees, I got a foot under me and barely managed to sling myself over her back, holding on around her neck. Somehow, she managed a burst of speed and, using gravity, we tore madly straight down the hill away from the line of archers that was descending from the ridge. My mind wandered to some of the folk tales of people lost in the wilds who happened upon a strange black magical horse that carried them to their deaths. Then again, for all I knew, I was already dying; my chest hurt like I was. We ran like this for several miles, me hanging on for dear life, and the pooka oozing lifeblood like rain into the trail behind us. It was almost surreal; the sweat, blood, heat and sense of loss, fading consciousness to black.

  The bright sunlight of mid-afternoon beating on my face finally roused me enough to pry open my eyes. I was lying on my side, half under a downed log on a grassy bank, the burbling sound of running water telling me a stream ran nearby. Cradled in my arms, her tousled, dark-haired head just under my chin, Daffi lay breathing evenly. Physically, I felt better than I had any right to, and I cautiously reached down and ran a hand over the spots where the arrows had impacted my stomach and chest. Sore and bruised, yes, but no actual bleeding wounds were evident. Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked around curiously. A few feet away, there was a small pile of arrows scattered on the ground.

  Sensing I was awake, Daphne edged away from our spooning position and onto her back. She stared up at me silently, her large dark eyes betraying no emotion. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached down and caressed the hair out of her eyes, and finally leaned over and kissed her. She closed her eyes briefly and just let me explore her lips before reopening them and stretching up to initiate some kisses of her own, her hands sliding coolly along both sides of my face. Finally, with the briefest trace of a smile, she exhaled slowly.

  “Remember what I told you when we first met, Oh Great Wizard?”

  “You mean the-kiss-me-and-I’m-yours-forever part?”

  “Ahuh…signed, sealed, and delivered, Kerrik Beratin,” she whispered huskily. “Please don’t break my heart.”

  “Daffi, what happened? I remember being shot, I remember the impacts of the arrows; hell, I remember all the arrows in you as well. How is it we are still alive? Or are we?”

  The pooka reached into my shirt and pulled out Ryliss’ defense charm; together, we watched it turn to dust in her palm. “This saved you.”

  I shook my head in wonder; magical items were something that we read stories about when we were kids. Oh, there were the occasional dwarf-made items that one saw the stre
et vendors in the bigger cities hawking, most of which were clever fakes. “But what about you, Daffi, I saw you blocking the arrows from hitting me, I saw the blood! How is it you still breathe?”

  She looked at me and reached up to brush her lips against mine, seeming to revel in the sensation as a contented smile crossed her face. “I will tell you everything, Kerrik. You see, a pooka cannot be killed in their animal form. We feel the pain of everything that happens to us, be it arrow, stone, or dagger, but true death can only occur in our human form. So if you ever feel the need to kill me, now you know my most vulnerable secret.”

  “But you still felt the pain from each of those arrow strikes that you blocked? Daffi, there were a dozen or more!”

  “Yes, and I felt each and every one of them, but I would do it again tenfold to save you.”

  “But why?”

  “I thought wizards were supposed to be smart,” she growled and pulled me down to her soft lips again.

  A short while later, after we had extricated ourselves from under the downed tree, Daphne sat cross-legged out in the sun, her arms and face stretched out like a sunflower in a meadow. I leaned up against a tree trunk in the shade, and we discussed our problem.

  “I’m sure I could sneak into their camp, Kerrik; but they aren’t exactly going to allow her to ride out unchallenged on any of my forms. There are over fifty armed men there and only two of us. Plus, they will be expecting a rescue attempt, unless they think we’re dead, that is.” Daffi said.

  “What if I created a diversion?”

  “You were lucky to have Ryliss’ charm on you the first time, you won’t be so lucky again. You have no weapon; most of your spells are useless against a crowd of that size, and there’s still the gargoyle to consider. We need help, Kerrik.”

  I considered it for a few moments. “The only force close enough to help would be the Canna and I doubt they will be very willing.”

  “Perhaps if you offered them a year’s service?”

  “Oh, I’m sure if I was an earth wizard or a Druid like Ryliss they would consider it, but what exactly is a unskilled wind wizard going to do for a forest of elves? Still, I have to try everything to get Andi free; the worst they can say is no. Hopefully, they are in a better mood than when I left.”

  “Yes, well, I’m pretty sure after I left, things improved remarkably,” Daffi snickered. “I will take you as far as the edge of the forest; from there, it’s up to you.”

  “No need, I think it is time to reinforce my status as an all-powerful wizard and fly there myself. If nothing else, it might raise my prospects for bargaining with them.”

  Less than an hour later, I started my descent into the elf village. Finding it by air wasn’t so hard now that I knew it was on the banks of the great river. Extending my arms theatrically, I attempted to look impressive. There was a beehive of activity going on below me, just none of it because of me. From what I could tell, all the fuss centered on a large, rolling wagon that had just been parked at the far edge of the commons. The wooden top prevented me from seeing what was inside, but it appeared to have iron bars extending above the roof, like the prisoner transport that had hauled me from the tavern what seemed like so long ago.

  On the trip here, I had divided thoughts. One was worry for my sister, but I managed to convince myself that seers were too valuable to waste. Since they had snatched only her specifically from our camp, it seemed certain they knew who and what she was. For the time being, she was probably safe from death, at least.

  My second concern was my new found feelings for Daphne. I was painfully aware of Ryliss’ warning concerning the pooka cross, but the image she had portrayed of Daffi as a shallow, almost mindless slave to lust didn’t match the girl I had come to know. She was sweet, caring of others, and she had saved my life at great personal pain. This wasn’t a girl who existed only for a quick roll in the forest. I was also reminded that Ryliss hadn’t known Daffi more than a few hours, so it could well be that her vision was skewed by the same preconceived notions that I had tripped over. If Daphne was some sort of damaged freak-of-nature, it occurred to me that I could be considered the same.

  I was perhaps only fifty feet or so above the arena area where we had first been questioned before any of the Canna noticed me at all. Instantly, I was covered by a dozen or more bowmen, but Aegone was already standing outside among his people and he waved off the threat with a politician’s smile on his pale face. Landing, I swept into a formal bow, as most of the elves vacated the area between us.

  “Wizard Beratin, what a delightful surprise. Frankly, I didn’t think we would be graced with your company quite so soon. I’ll admit you had us worried when the donkeys we gifted you returned riderless. Surely, you have not returned from Xarparion already?” he chortled, obviously in a good mood.

  “Not exactly, Chief Aegone. You seem to be in much-improved spirits.”

  “Yes, since you left, the crops have turned around, the milk has stopped curdling in the milkmaids’ buckets, and today of all glorious days, we have finally taken care of the last of the irritants plaguing us.”

  “Really? I am pleased for you. Perhaps with all this overflowing good fortune, you would look kindly toward my asking a boon of you.”

  The tall elf winced slightly but continued to smile and wave at some of his people who walked by, but his eyes were cold as ice. He continued, “Since the bulk of my recent good fortune occurred after you vacated our lands, Wizard,” he said warily, “I sincerely hope this request includes you leaving and never returning.”

  “It does, or at least, it can.”

  “Excellent!” Aegone smirked and pointed. “Look, they are readying the festivities!” My eyes followed his hand, and my attention was drawn to the wagon I had spotted from the air. It was parked on the top of the bonfire knoll and its wheels chocked with blocks of wood. From where I stood, whatever was inside was hidden by a curtain of dark fabric that encircled the wagon body. Young elves were running back and forth carrying armloads of cut wood, pine branches, and dry tinder materials and stuffing them under the entire length of the wagon.

  “A bonfire?” I guessed.

  The pale elf paused to tickle an elf baby under its chin as her mother carried her overly swaddled child past. “Oh, much, much more than that, my friend, it’s more like a demon crucifixion. You’ll see they are almost finished with the preparations. Now explain this boon of yours…”

  I told him in detail how Andea had been kidnapped, leaving out any references to her being a seer, I especially omitted mentioning anything about the pooka. I also detailed what assistance I was petitioning for from the Canna.

  Aegone was practically giggling as I wrapped up my proposal and I had even thrown in my offer of a year of service as Daffi had suggested. “Ha Ha, Wizard, you really are quite the amusing character. Let me see if I have captured the gist of this. You want me to hazard the lives of my warriors against a troop of fifty heavily-armed mercenaries and a magical gargoyle, of all things, to accomplish what? Rescue a useless, damaged slip of a girl?”

  “My sister,” I gritted, not liking his tone.

  The elf chief chuckled. “Pardon, your sister, then…and for completing this task, we Canna gain what? Your undying gratitude? Oh wait…I almost forgot your generous offer of a year’s servitude.” He turned and faced me, the smile sliding off his face, and his eyes hardened. “I thought I explained that I wanted you well gone and away from my people, not hanging around here worthlessly for another year. The answer is no!”

  “But they will kill her!”

  “Then go back to Xarparion. I’m sure with all your alleged connections, of which I am still somewhat skeptical, you should be able to enlist the aid of your fellow wizards to do your bidding. The Canna have no interest or concern in this matter.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand, silencing me. “I have spoken! Now you will have to forgive me, but I must take my leave of you; I have a joyous speech to deliver.” And he walked
away a few paces.

  By now the prison wagon looked like it was floating on a huge raft of wood and tinder at the peak of the knoll. The young elves doing all the work stood back and dusted off their hands and clothing, smiling at the chief expectantly. A couple of them retrieved burning torches from somewhere and stood at attention for instructions. Beaming at his people, Aegone stepped onto a raised dais that had been moved up by servants.

  Unlike the first time when Ryliss, Andi, and I had been questioned publicly, this speech was entirely in elf. I had picked up a few words in the army, but I certainly couldn’t follow it all. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to know either. The way Aegone was preening up there, I’m sure the self-important bastard was taking credit for the sun and the moon at the moment. It did give me time to consider my situation; the Canna’s reaction to my request wasn’t entirely unexpected, but I had to try for Andi’s sake. I would just have to figure something out.

  I was just about to cast a fly spell and head back to find Daffi, when the tempo of Aegone’s words shot up, and he pointed dramatically toward the wagon pyre. To the cheers of the assembled throng of Canna, a couple of elf attendants ran up with hooked sticks and dragged down the curtain that circled the iron bars of the wagon body. In the sunlight, it took my eyes a few moments to make heads or tails of what I was looking at. For the longest time, it looked like just a motionless black mass. Finally, there was some definition and I saw a creature I recognized! Bloodied and matted, but still regal as hell, it was a Jag’uri puma, Ryliss’ Naurakka!

  Getting up stiffly, she roared a challenge to the crowd and halfheartedly batted at the iron bars. A couple of younger children with long sharp sticks prodded at her, but the great cat seemed resigned to her fate and simply lay back down to wait for the end. Before she lay her huge head back down on the wood floor of the wagon, she glanced in my direction and tilted her head questioningly, her eyes locked on mine. Finally, she just settled down on the floor with her chin resting on her paws.