by King, DB
“Tell me.”
“Whatever it is, it wishes to lay claim to the Archspirits, to control their power and twist it to their own ends. This War Wizard… I have no doubt that whatever this power is, he is the only one who can stop them. You’re risking much by sending your bravest warriors to find him. But I have no doubt he will be the key to all of this. He is the One, and he will not fail. He will claim the Archspirits and their powers.”
Corvan rose and slowly stepped toward the vista, his hands clasped behind his back as he let Allana word’s settle in his mind. He let his eyes linger on the city before him. Despite its decline, Corvan could scarcely imagine anything more beautiful than his home.
“But your kin, and the Archspirits… they won’t simply bend a knee to a mere mortal. It won’t make any difference if he’s thousands of years old. He is merely a man, and a man has limitations.”
Allana vanished, appearing at Corvan’s side. A smile on her lips, she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“This is an Elderwood Ranger we’re speaking of, Corvan. If my kin, if the Archspirits, don’t wish to willingly serve him… he will make them.”
Chapter 6: Logan
Just as Runa had said, it took two days until they reached the border of the desert. The sands had been so vast and unending that Logan was convinced his eyes deceived him when the shifting sands gave way to the hard-scrabble earth of badlands. The cracked, clay ground and patchy vegetation was hardly an improvement, but it was at least a sign that they were making progress.
Logan’s clothing had been tossed over the dresser, and he didn’t waste any time putting it back on. The garments given to him by the elves were too elvish for his liking. The loose-fitting garments, the fabric a soft silk of ink-black with red, paisley accents, seemed more suited for loungewear than anything practical. He missed the rugged leathers of his fellow rangers. He hoped that the secrets of forging his gear were among the rest of the scrolls.
After stepping into his black, leather slippers, he left his quarters and entered the bustle of the main room of his wagon. The area was packed with dozens of elves, all dressed similarly to him, their bodies long and lean. Once he was among the crowd, he was subjected to the two flavors of looks he’d since gotten used to: glances of skepticism from the men, and intrigued stares from the women.
Logan left the wagon, making his way down the caravan toward the armory. The badlands stretched into the distance, the sky above a sickly green. It was late morning, as far as he could tell. But the look of the sky held no indication. He hadn’t done much venturing out of the Elderwood Forests, but if they were traveling east, then this area would’ve been the Stormshire Meadows, a vast stretch of fertile plains with soil as dark as coal and fertile as a maiden. But now they were merely more lands ruined by the invasion all those years ago.
He stepped into the armory, smiling as he always did at the weapons arrayed before him. Down on the first floor of the wagon, he could hear the grunts and clangs of battle, and went over to the railing that overlooked the sparring ring.
Down below, two elf men, both clad in nothing but loincloths, were in the middle of a sparring match. They wielded wooden swords, each maintaining a distance from the other. A dozen or so other elves leaned on the railing, jeering at the two below. Runa, however, stood with her hands clasped behind her back.
“You see this?” she asked, gesturing to the elves. “This is how soldiers who’ve been too heavily trained and deprived of real combat fight. They’re both dancing around one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. It strikes me as two women trying to court!”
That got some laughs from the watching elves.
“When you’re in combat, dozens of orcs around you, you won’t have the luxury of waiting for one to make the first move. You must take the first opening you can! Now, R’lynth—attack him!”
One of the elves nodded, finally closing the distance between him and the other elf. The approaching elf raised his wooden sword and prepared to strike. The other squared his shoulders and extended his arms, his eyes focused on the blade to watch where it might go.
Rookies, he thought. She’s training rookies. But why bring rookies on a mission like this?
One elf let out a battle cry and darted forward. His opponent’s eyes went wide, his blade swinging wildly in a panic. Logan shook his head. A guard that weak was a death sentence in a real battle.
Luckily, the elf regained his bearings at the last moment, striking at the attacking elf. But that was as far as his luck would get him. The attacking elf parried the blade and slammed a shoulder into his chest. They crashed to the floor in a wild tumble.
The attacker placed the tip of his sword on the defender’s neck. “I have him!” He looked up at Runa. “Mistress, I won!”
“Sure,” Runa said, her hands still clasped behind her back as she approached. “You ‘won’—that is, if you consider flopping on your opponent like a land-bound fish to be a win.”
More laughs rose from the crowd.
“Gareth, take five. And R’lynth—do to me what you did to him.”
The defeated elf skulked off to nurse his wounds. The victorious one, his newfound swagger hinting at how pleased with himself he was, returned to the other side of the ring.
“Now,” Runa said. “I want you to attack. But I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to rush me, and strike like you truly wished to do damage.”
“Mistress Runa,” R’lynth said, “you… wish me to attack?”
Logan realized he still didn’t know what Runa’s role among the elves was. She was obviously in command of the caravan, but he wasn’t sure if she was a warrior or royalty.
He pushed that question out of his head, turning his attention back to the fight.
“Now,” she said. “Attack me.”
The look on the young elf’s face made it clear he was still confused about the arrangement. But he obeyed, raising the blade over his head and letting out a cry as he rushed Runa.
Fool, Logan thought. Leaving your entire body exposed like that—that’s a good way to be skewered by a gnollish spear from ten paces off.
Runa stayed calm and still as the elf rushed, her hands still clasped behind her back. When R’lynth was close enough to bring down the blade in a hard arc, he did. But he hit only air. Runa calmly and deftly stepped out of the way. The elf stumbled as he tried to regain his balance.
“Putting all your weight into a swing like that and telegraphing your move?” Runa asked. “You may as well present your neck to your opponent. Keep striking.”
R’lynth went into a flurry of wild swings. Runa side-stepped each one of them with quick, precise movements.
“Use your opponent’s weaknesses against him,” she said, her voice even as she continued to side-step the swings. “In this case, R’lynth’s eagerness and, ah, lack of precision.”
The elf’s swings grew slower, less careful.
Logan leaned forward. She’s tiring him out, he realized.
“And then time comes when you need to end the fight,” she said. “Finish it, R’lynth.”
The young elf took a moment to gather his last bit of strength, then rushed toward her for one final, hopefully winning, blow.
He had no such luck.
She raised her left arm to defend, but her right struck R’lynth’s face. The blow stunned him. Runa grabbed his wrist and shoulder, holding him in place as she kicked his legs out from under him. As his body slammed into the ground, his blade fell with a clang. She swept it up and pointed the tip against his neck.
Chuckles sounded out among the group.
“I’m noting who’s laughing,” Runa said, her eyes scanning the crowd as she helped the elf to his feet. “Because I’ll be putting you all in R’lynth’s position before your training is complete.”
The laughter fell to a nervous murmur.
Logan was impressed. Whoever Runa was, her skills as a fighter were impeccable. And more than tha
t, she could command. The rest of the elves clearly respected her, listening to her as she instructed them. Logan knew that while fierce fighters were easy to come by, fierce fighters who could lead were rare as jewels.
“Now,” she said. “Who wants to be the next to f—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. An eerie, animal howl sounded from the distance—then another, and another. Logan recognized right away those strange, bat-like shrieks.
Gnolls.
“We’re under attack,” Runa said, still calm. “Gather your gear in the armory and meet me at the entrance. The gods have blessed us with live training this day.”
Runa glanced up, a small smile on her face as she met Logan’s eyes.
“And that goes for you too, observer. Take whatever gear you wish and prepare to prove we didn’t waste the kingdom’s wealth in bringing you back.”
Logan answered with a grin, excitement rushing through his body as the promise of battle presented itself. Without a word, he turned and took in the sight of the weapons before him, his hands practically itching at the idea of finally being back in combat.
Gnolls, Logan thought. Foul things. Their kind used spears, preferring to skewer their enemies from a distance. With this in mind, his eyes tracked to a small hand-axe, then to a steel buckler from among the shields. Not wanting to waste precious minutes donning plate armor, he spotted some sturdy-looking chainmail shirt and slipped it on before taking an axe and shield.
He was about to leave when a dagger caught his eye. Some of the Elderwood Rangers, especially the more seasoned ones, would always carry a dagger when they ventured into the wilderness. “It’s the only tool a ranger really needs,” Logan’s father, Jesper, had told him once. “Magic, runes, enchanted armor… These have their uses, but they will not feed you when you are starving, nor help you build shelter in a storm. When it comes down to it, a sharp blade will be the difference between life and death in the wilderness, son.”
And if this new world was anything, it was a wilderness—to Logan, at least. He grabbed an ornate elvish dagger and slipped it into his belt.
Right as he finished equipping, the rest of the elf fighters poured in. The armory bustled as the elves grabbed blades and armor.
“Time is of the essence!” Runa shouted. “You want to score your kills. Stop hemming and hawing about your gear like fussy women!”
Once they had it, they put it on swiftly, preparing themselves for battle. Logan noted that, while the elves were on the greener side, they knew just what to do when it came time to fight.
The armor fit the tall, lean bodies of the elves better than it fit Logan. The elves went with long, jagged spears—weapons he knew were common for front-line elf fighters. They brought short swords too, slung onto their waists for easy access, as well as short bows and quivers of arrows. Logan found a bow and quiver of his own, and as he held it in his hands, he noticed the wood was feather-light, the string so fine it was almost reflective.
“Now!” Runa shouted. “Come with me!”
Logan hurried to Runa’s side. But if she noticed him, she didn’t act like it.
“Bringing the rookies into battle?” he asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to hope that you’re not questioning my leadership.”
He grinned. “More out of curiosity than second-guessing. This is the first time I’ve fought alongside elves.”
“Then you’d be wise to take orders like the rest of them. I expect total compliance.” There wasn’t a trace of humor to her voice. He said nothing as they hurried around the exterior of the next few wagons, making their way to the growing sounds of combat.
It wasn’t long before they were in sight of the battle. In the distance to the east of the command wagon was a small army of around six-dozen gnolls. The creatures were hulking, seven feet tall on average. Their faces were the hideous combination of human and hyena that Logan expected, their gear rough-looking leathers and flimsy plates. Just as he’d anticipated, they wielded mostly spears with rusted tips.
The battle had already begun. The caravan’s outriders were engaged in harassing tactics, peppering the gnolls with arrows and trying to form a perimeter around the convoy. Now and then an outrider would move in close, jabbing at the gnolls with his spear. Logan noted that there was only so much they’d be able to do on their own—the true battle would need to begin soon.
And the howls. It’d been almost two thousand years since Logan had heard them, but the howling screeches of the gnolls were just as horrid as he’d remembered. As Runa, the rookie soldiers, and Logan took position on the cracked earth near the wagon, the howls assaulted them. A sharp, barking laugh would pop in among the chattering howls. Once on the ground, Logan was close enough to see their wild, frantic faces, long red tongues hanging down among razor-sharp teeth, drool dripping into the fur of their chests.
“Form a phalanx!” Runa shouted. “Spears forward, archers behind!”
The soldiers might have been green, but they did as they were told. Logan took position on the far end of the line, close enough to the front of the wagon to see Raymond leading the other group of guards. He and his elves were dressed in plate armor, all wielding spears.
The outriders did their work, harrying the gnolls and keeping them busy as the fighters formed up. Runa, in place behind her soldiers, kept her eyes on the outriders. Logan did the same, watching as the outriders picked off gnolls with their bows and arrows. They didn’t do enough damage to meaningfully thin the ranks, but the poorly disciplined gnolls stayed massed together.
When the outriders were in position, Runa slipped a small horn from her belt and blew into it. A long, low call sounded out over the battlefield. The riders got the message, breaking from the attacks and making their way to the rear, closer to the convoy.
But the gnolls were still disorganized from the pestering attacks. One of the gnolls stepped in front of the snarling mass. Deep scars tracked through his fur, and around his neck was a string on which dangled a handful of severed ears—some human, others pointed.
Logan had no doubt this was the leader of the gnolls. The beast snarled and snapped his jaws, gesturing toward the elves. No doubt he was trying to restore order to his panicked troops.
“Hold fast,” Runa commanded. “And prepare your bows.”
The soldiers did as they were told. The gnoll leader paraded in front of those under his command, making a big show out of being the one in charge.
Logan had fought gnolls enough times to know they were like rabid dogs, wild and barely able to be led. He tracked his eyes along the elven troops, noting that they were in lock formation. No doubt the plan was to thin the ranks of the gnolls with arrows before charging in for the kill.
But Logan had a better idea. He glanced over to Runa to offer his suggestion. The small smile on her lips, however, indicated that she had the same idea.
As he watched the gnoll leader preen and snarl, Runa called out.
“Archers! Concentrate fire on the leader!”
The soldiers obeyed, taking out their bows and nocking arrows.
“Loose!”
The arrows sailed toward the gnoll leader, most landing in the ground around him, or in the flesh of surrounding gnolls. But not one found the leader.
Logan decided to hurry things along. He nocked his arrow, pulled back the string, and let fly. The arrow thwapped through the air, sailing at its target.
And found it.
The leader gnoll stood frozen, his mouth open dumbly, Logan’s arrow stuck in his eye. Logan nocked another arrow and shot this one just as quickly. This arrow found its mark in the gnoll’s neck, blood spurting out. It was more than the gnoll could take. He dropped to his knees, then into a heap.
“Down, boy,” Logan said with a smirk.
Up ahead, the gnolls barked and howled frantically.
“Loose!” Runa shouted once more, eager to take advantage of Logan’s shot.
The recruits and Raymond’s gua
rds obeyed, all launching volley after volley of arrows into the massed gnolls. They dropped, one after another, until one of the gnolls stepped forward and roared, giving the order to charge.
“Loose!” One more volley of arrows launched, and Logan knew this would be the last before melee broke out.
“Prepare spears!” Runa shouted. The soldiers did as they were told, putting away their bows and raising their spears.
As the gnolls closed in, Logan felt something strange on his arm. His runic tattoo began to thrum and throb. He rolled up his left sleeve and found the rune was glowing blue. An energy burned deep inside of him, one that compelled him to fight with an animal rage.
Logan stepped forward and tossed his bow and quiver to the ground.
“What… What’s he doing?” one of the guards asked Raymond.
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” Raymond said.
It was the last Logan heard from the guards before the gnolls rushed in. Snarls and barks and howls filling the air, the gnolls barreling toward the elves. Logan held his axe in one hand and his buckler in the other, a smile forming on his face as the power of his rune flowed through his body.
He was ready.
He scanned the mass of beasts, counting a few dozen. They stepped over the bodies of their companions, the corpses filled with arrows. The gnolls closest to Logan locked their beady eyes onto him, their spears raised into the air as they bumped into one another, each wanting to be the one to skewer the man who had slain their leader.
Logan wasn’t about to give them what they wanted. The nearest gnoll jabbed his spear forward, but Logan easily side-stepped it. He raised his axe and drove the bottom edge into the spear, breaking the flimsy weapon in two. He swung his axe once more, and in one fluid motion, sliced the thigh of the gnoll, bringing him to his knees. The beast howled, a cry that was quickly silenced by another swing of Logan’s axe, this time against the beast’s neck. The gnoll gurgled, blood pouring from his throat as he dropped.