Gradually Quillen eased the pace to a slow jog and then to a walk. They tried to step as quietly as possible, avoiding the dead twigs and dried leaves that covered the ground. They grasped their weapons to keep them from slapping against their bodies. And they listened.
Soon they came to a dried riverbed, and Quillen raised a fist to signal the company to stop. Where the water used to flow was completely void of vegetation, and the ever-present haze seemed to thin.
Quillen spoke for the first time; his breathing was slow and deliberate. “The man is following this wash.” He pointed toward the winding riverbed before them. “We’ll see them soon, if they haven’t already caught him.”
With that statement, the dwarf warrior pulled both his axes from their sheaths over his back. The sound of the clean steel ringing against the polished leather caused a quiver in Ty’s stomach, for to him, this sound was the prelude to battle.
Quillen added, “He should have tried to lose them in the haze. Too easy to be seen here.” No one questioned the hunter. “We’re going down the wash to meet them. If the man is still alive, we’ll have a warning. We need to get them all. None get away.” He looked back at each of them. “Is that understood?” All nodded. “Boy,” he glanced back at Ty, “get around behind them. Keep any from escaping.”
Hasdel spoke up for the first time. “Ty, you need only delay them until we get there.”
“Understood?” said Quillen.
“Yes, sir.”
“Leatherneck, you and I will each take a side. Captain, you walk right down the middle,” said Quillen. “We’ll let them come face to face with a gnoll’s worst nightmare. Agreed?”
Ty and Hasdel nodded. Kellenor grunted.
Ty thought how different it was this time. Quillen was clearly in charge now. This was his plan and they were going to do it his way. Ty felt ready. His role was unmistakable, and he was agreeable. He understood.
Down the wash strode Kellenor Braid of Dalkeeth, a sword in each hand and tilted upward just enough to keep from dragging on the ground. Quillen and Hasdel walked on opposite sides of the dry riverbed. Ty followed closely behind the hunter. The haze still hung over the ground, and the air was saturated with foul odors from the rotting land.
On they marched, the four liberators, down the dry wash, waiting to encounter a band of running gnolls. The terrain changed only slightly, as the riverbed had fewer dead leaves and branches. The ground was firmer, and the sound from the shuffle of their boots was louder. The ceiling on their tunnel rose, and the walls widened some, for now they could make out the edges of the wash. They could see the dead trees and bushes that had once fed on the water in the stream.
The thought occurred to Ty that earlier in the day, the four had taken every measure to ensure they did not chance upon any gnolls, and now they were searching for a fight. He was ready now. What had changed? It was the same reasoning that had driven them to go after the dwarf. Man would always try to safeguard himself unless a fellow man’s life was in danger; then, he’d abandon his own safety for the other. He thought about that and felt a sudden pride in his race. He straightened his body and walked a little taller behind the rugged hunter.
They all heard the sound at the same time, the snap of a dried branch just yards in front of them, then the steady drumming of feet on the hard ground. Kellenor grew broader than two men as he planted his feet in the middle of the wash. Both Quillen and Hasdel advanced quickly and took cover on opposite banks a few yards downstream from the dwarf. Ty crouched behind the hunter out of sight, long sword in hand.
Weaponless and wide-eyed, the fleeing man burst out of the haze and nearly slammed into the dwarf before stumbling to a halt. He stood and stared at Kellenor in disbelief, then fell slowly to his knees and dropped his head forward so the warrior could hack it off if he chose.
Kellenor looked down at the man kneeling before him. His stocky frame was dressed in finely crafted leather garments. His head was shrouded in bushy black hair, and a thick beard enveloped his face. Beneath his dark, woolly eyebrows, two deep brown eyes shifted from the ground to the dwarf and then back to the ground. Kellenor acknowledged the man before him with a curt nod and then stepped around him and reset his feet to await the pursuers.
In moments, they were there. Two of them. The first one saw the dwarf and lurched to a halt, trying to keep his balance. His companion came instantly to his side. They stood, dazed, trying to comprehend the vision before them. Their weapons were tied securely to their bodies.
Before they could realize what was happening, the dwarf charged like a bull with a thundering roar and a sword in each hand raised above his head. The blades came down upon the waiting and willing victims in a single doubled-handed blow. Their skulls were crushed, and they fell without a sound beyond the thud of their bodies against the ground.
Kellenor reset himself and waited to deliver another deathblow. The next four gnolls arrived in a single file and spaced farther apart. The first one on the scene saw the dwarf and tried to draw his sword to do battle, but the gava was upon him from the rear. He never felt the blow to the back of his neck. The next gnoll tried to face Hasdel and the dwarf but did not see the hunter, who from only a few feet away on a small knoll drove an arrow so hard that it passed completely through the beast. He felt it go through him, dropped his drawn sword, and clutched his breast as his heart pumped his lifeblood out into his hands. He looked up at the gava and then fell forward.
The last two gnolls arrived at that moment, witnessed the onslaught, and turned to run.
“Boy!” called out the hunter.
Ty had not moved during the assault. Mesmerized by the lethal power of his companions, he had watched the entire event from a vantage point behind the hunter. But now it was time to act, and quickly he leapt from the knoll on the riverbed’s edge and into the wash after the two fleeing gnolls.
He was fresh and strong, and he caught up to the two cowardly gnolls within seconds. They saw him coming and bent their heads forward to escape their pursuer; their hoarse breathing came out in loud grunts as they fled for their lives. With his long sword drawn, Ty raced alongside the first trailing gnoll and hacked at the beast’s hamstring. The blade sliced cleanly into the gnoll’s flesh, and he howled in pain as he tumbled to the ground in a cloud of black dust. Ty deftly leapt over the fallen gnoll and kept after the lead runner.
The last fleeing gnoll unfastened his weapon as he ran. When he held it securely in his hand, he came to a sudden standstill and whirled about to fight. Ty was upon him almost too quickly as the gnoll swung the blade wildly at his head. Ducking the blade, Ty lunged directly at the gnoll, then sidestepped the beast at the last moment. With a spinning motion, he maneuvered behind the gnoll and drove his sword deep into the gnoll’s right shoulder, nearly hacking off the sword-bearing arm. Immediately, Ty withdrew the blade and followed through with a second attack that cut through the defenseless gnoll’s neck. The lifeless body fell in a heap.
Ty looked about and caught a glimpse of the messenger standing not far away. He did not acknowledge the presence of the gava. He walked back to find the gnoll he had cut down earlier. The beast had managed to unsheathe his own sword. Unable to stand, he had dragged himself to the edge of the river wash. A blood trail showed where he had fallen. Ty slowly advanced toward the badly wounded gnoll. The gava was only yards away but said nothing to Ty, nor did Ty speak to him. Suddenly Ty swung his long blade and knocked the sword from the gnoll’s mangled hand. He then positioned himself behind the gnoll with the beast looking up at him. Ty raised the sword over his head and held it with both hands about the grip. He held it there for a time, and the gnoll closed his eyes; then, in a single downward thrust, the Riverman drove the blade deep into the beast’s chest.
Ty placed his foot on the body and withdrew the blade. He looked up and acknowledged the presence of Hasdel.
“Don’t sheathe your blade. Let it dry some. It will be easier to clean later free of dirt,” instructed the
gava. Ty nodded.
The two walked back up the wash toward the others. “You did well,” said the messenger.
“Thank you.”
Hasdel then placed his hand on Ty’s shoulder, leaned close to him, and spoke quietly. “Never torture, lad. Even beasts. Do it quickly.” He lifted his arm from the boy.
They continued to walk side by side until they reached the others. The dwarf stood behind the hunter, who was hunched down before the running man. He still sat on the ground where he had fallen before the dwarf.
“Your boy did well,” said Hasdel to Quillen.
“Good. I knew he would.”
“What have we got here?”
“A Faxx,” said Quillen. “Speak up, Faxx.”
The man did not speak. His bushy hair and beard shrouded his deep brown eyes. He was dressed fully in well-crafted leather clothing. His apparel was not lavish or decorative, but finely sewn working clothes. The man inside the leather had a red face and black hair and looked smaller in stature than Hasdel. He was smaller than Ty had thought, and Ty hoped the others had forgotten his conjecture that the man would be large.
“What has he said?” asked Hasdel.
“Nothing yet. The captain gave him his water flask, and he’s been filling up.”
“Seen him before,” the Faxx said, pointing to Kellenor.
“Well, we know it talks,” said Quillen.
Kellenor spoke. “We have traded with the Faxx for generations.”
“What do you trade, Captain?” asked Hasdel.
“They are sheepherders. We trade for their leather and wool. They have lumber mills in the foothills. They want our iron works and mining tools,” said Kellenor.
“They’re miners, all right,” said Quillen. “They ran me off their land—at least, they claim it as their land. It’s a huge butte raising up out of the flat plains.”
“Where is this?” asked Hasdel.
“They live about a half day northwest of Chardone. The women and men live in different colonies, isn’t that true?” said Quillen, raising his voice as he leaned down toward the rugged man.
“That is true,” answered the dwarf for the man who still knelt on the ground.
“The people of Chardone think you’re crazy, you know that?” said Quillen, again raising his voice at the end. “I think you’re crazy.” The man still did not respond. “What are you mining? No one in Chardone seems to know,” demanded the hunter.
“Easy, Quillen. We came to help him, remember?” Hasdel reached out and touched the hunter on the shoulder. “Tell me, friend,” Hasdel continued as he crouched down to look the man in the eyes, “why were the gnolls chasing you? What happened?”
When Hasdel lowered himself to his level, the Faxx shifted his weight and pulled his legs out from under himself. He stood.
Hasdel stood as well. As the bearded man rose, he stretched his arms back and twisted his neck about. He straightened his back. He stood a few inches shorter than Hasdel.
Hasdel spoke again. “Tell us, friend, what happened? You have nothing to fear from us.”
“Speak for yourself,” muttered Quillen in a low voice that only Ty heard fully. A smile broke across the boy’s face.
The man merely studied each one in the company. Hasdel turned to the dwarf. “Can you help us, Captain?”
The dwarf took hold of the man’s shoulders and turned him toward himself. “Tell us what happened.”
The man took a deep breath. “I was on the ground surface, and there was a great explosion. The earth shook.”
Quillen interrupted, “See? ‘On the surface’—they’re mining for something.”
“Go on, friend,” said the messenger.
“At about the time of the explosion, there appeared a column of smoke far in the distance, over Melda. Many of our people were lost—those in the mine.” The Faxx looked momentarily at Quillen, who said nothing.
Hasdel asked, “What killed them?”
“I’m not sure. Something horrible did it. Many were cut up terribly. It was unnatural. It took me several weeks to bury all the fallen. After that I decided to go to Melda to learn the cause. On my way, I came upon the gnolls who were headed toward our colony. I ran from them.”
“Why didn’t he try to lose them in the haze?” asked Ty, who had not spoken before. The man looked at Ty. Ty looked over to Quillen.
Quillen spoke. “Ask him what they’re mining. I was trying to cross their land years ago to get to Chardone from Yolo and some of their guards ran me off.” Then the hunter stepped forward and addressed the man directly. “What are you people doing in there that’s such a secret?”
The man said nothing. He now searched each face of the company. When his gaze returned to the messenger, Hasdel spoke. “You are free to go.” He made a slow sweeping gesture with his hand, palm up, toward the east. He repeated the gesture several times. The man looked at Kellenor, and the huge dwarf made the same motion that Hasdel had made toward the man’s homeland.
“Thank you,” said the man, nodding his head. He reached out to grip Hasdel’s hand, shook it once, and bowed to Kellenor. He turned and bowed quickly to Ty and then to Quillen.
Quillen quickly moved to one of the gnoll corpses and stripped it of a fine dwarf sword and sheathed knife. He handed them to the man and said, “Keep the sun to your right. It will take you east and then turn you south late in the day. You should see the mountains by then.” As he spoke, he pointed to the sun and with his hand, pushed the sun to his right. “I’d still like to know what you’re mining.”
The Faxx turned away from the hunter and gathered the dwarven weapons about him. He glanced back at the group, bowed low to Quillen, and then departed to the east into the haze.
The three men and the dwarf watched him go out of sight.
“Well, we know this wash will lead us close to Melda,” said Hasdel. “Let’s go, gentlemen. There’s nothing keeping us here.”
Chapter 26
The company formed their familiar line: Quillen in the lead, followed by the king’s messenger, then Ty, and as the rear guard, the Captain of the Guard. On they walked into the haze. The battle they had fought freed their minds and senses from the reality of their surroundings. They became aware of the odors again, and the monotonous, silent hiking resumed. On and on they marched without speaking, their mouths covered.
Several hours into the dead lands, the fog slowly lifted. As the mist broke, structures gradually took form in the distance. When Ty first saw them, he rushed to Hasdel’s side and pointed ahead.
“Melda,” said the gava through the scarf he had secured over his mouth.
The company pushed on, each companion looking ahead at the skyline of the ancient settlement etched in the haze. The terrain changed abruptly from open space to flattened grounds. They found themselves stepping over low rows of masonry laid by man many years hence, the lone remnants of where a building once stood. Then, for the first time, they caught a clear view of the Ruins of Melda as the midday sun took that moment to burn its way through the cloud cover. The company of four took their positions behind a row of stone a few feet high. The stone wall lined a road that had long since returned to the wild except for a faint hint of where it had once traversed. The ancient roadbed circled a vast assemblage of stone foundations where a cluster of large buildings once stood. The foundations were ruins now, a few still reaching several stories high, others crumbled into heaps of rubble on the ground. The mounds of debris, rounded by weather, blended back into the terrain. The massive center hall in the middle of the compound stood as the one exception. Its wings were in total destruction, yet the twin towers, once linked by a walled passage near the top, remained erect in pure defiance of whatever forces had brought Melda to this state. The center hall rested on a broad terrace fifteen feet high and bound by a bulwark wall of stone. The steps leading down from the terrace faced the surrounding buildings. The buildings were gone now, and the steps were covered with blackened grass and the skeletal
remains of vine foliage.
The four companions crouched behind the remnant of the roadside stone wall, surveying the grounds of the ancient site of Melda in silence and awe. The presence of so much stone canceled the smell of decay, and the men removed the scarves from their faces. Despite the city’s current state, one could not help imagining the splendor Melda must have displayed in times past.
Suddenly and simultaneously, each member of the company became aware of the presence of gnolls among the debris. Seeing the gnolls was like discovering ants: first one, then two, then eventually the entire colony. The gnolls could be seen everywhere throughout the ruins—everywhere.
The small company waited silently. Hasdel pulled back and away from the wall so he could speak to them all. “I do not know why the gnolls are here. I am not sure what next we should do to find Lamus.”
Quillen rolled to his side toward Hasdel. “I realize now that I never found Lamus here whenever I came before.” He rolled back to peer over the wall. “The monk always found me. I do not know where we can find him. He has to find us.” Quillen’s tone gave Ty little comfort.
The young Riverman continued to watch the movements of the gnolls while the gava and the hunter spoke. Suddenly, Ty whispered, “Look! Something’s happening.”
The gnolls were all at once rallied beneath one of the center towers. Their cries rose from the ruins. They bayed like hounds beneath a treed cat. Immediately the gnolls assaulted the stone face of the tower, flinging their spears high into the air toward its few windows. The spears bounced harmlessly off the tower surface, yet the climbers of the wall made steady progress.
“They’ve trapped something,” said Hasdel softly as the company watched the attack on the tower of Melda from the safety of their concealment behind the low stone wall.
Gnolls scaling the wall fell screaming to the base as others took up the climb, fighting to claim a space on the rock tower, only to fall to certain injury or death.
The Ruins of Melda Page 15