by Justin Wayne
Chapter Seven: The Pack
The drag marks were easy enough to follow, but as to their cause they were unsure. Whatever had been strewn across the ground was obviously heavy, and here or there left small bits of cloth behind. Soon enough the cold ground was blotted with blood and it became clear to what had been drug along.
“It was him.” Outsider announced, having figured it out. He turned to Merlon who was busying himself by inspecting a strip of cloth. “Thom was what made these marks. He must have fallen and been carried away when Jiff saw the fight.”
Merlon grimaced. “By Dirringyr’s hammer… Do you think he survived?”
Outsider crossed his arms. The bounty was the same alive or dead, so this way may be preferable. But if the body was found by wildlife and devoured, he’d be left with nothing to return to Cain Sander. He had to be sure.
“I really don’t know. He’s a hobbit and already sick.”
“There’s a chance however small.”
“Alright. We’ll keep searching.” he agreed. “It would be so much easier if I could just call Jiff.”
“Is that the horse?”
He nodded. “Bought him off a farmer a few months back. Not as trained as I’d like, but he understands me very well.”
“Well why can’t ye’ call ‘em?”
“If Thom is still connected to him he’ll just be drug around again. If he is alive, I don’t want to risk it.”
The dwarf agreed and dropped the cloth. “We’d best hurry. These woods breed terrible wolves the size of bears.”
Outsider peered around the thick foliage with narrowed eyes. “Fantastic.”
They walked along at a jogging pace, ignoring the ominous beauty of the forest. Focused solely on the tracks, the world around them was a blur passing them by in a thousand shades of brown and green. Gradually the marks began to curve off the dirt path and into the grass at a slight incline. The emerald blades of flora were bent and crumbled along here, with several small bushes uprooted from the hobbit’s failed attempts to hold on to them.
“Least he was still alive this far, eh?” Merlon offered in an attempt to lift morale. “And the grass’ll be a smoother ride ‘an before.”
Outsider nodded curtly, not really listening, and quickened his jog to a run now that he had a more visible trail to follow. His eagerness rose as he knew he was closing in. Horses never ran for more than a few hundred yards when spooked unless chased. He barely noticed Merlon huffing and puffing along beside him. He had no doubt the dwarf was once in pristine shape and an even better fighter than the formidable opponent he was today, but his slow lifestyle had robbed him of his fighting physique.
As such, his brow was beaded in perspiration and his face flushed with exertion. His clothes stuck to him with sweat and his belly shook with each jarring step, but dwarves are hardy folk and used to tiresome work from mining most of their lives and he soon developed a pace he could keep all day.
They continued on for nearly half an hour when Outsider’s keen senses picked up on something. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but the culmination of his smell, sight, and sound multiplied by that sixth sense for danger warned him it was nearby.
Then he heard something else. A horse’s whinny.
Instantly his eyes followed the sound and located Jiff, on the opposite side of a small clearing. The horse’s eyes were wild with fear and he kicked about on his rear legs.
“Something’s got ‘em spooked.” Merlon observed and drew his axe. “We should get—“
Out of the corner of his eye, Outsider saw movement to the far right, past Merlon who didn’t see it coming. In a single twist, the bounty hunter leaped sideways until he was parallel to the ground and flicked the knife from its sheath on the underside of his wrist and into the beast’s eye as its muzzle flashed open near the dwarf’s neck.
He landed on one foot and propelled himself forward at the wolf, stabbing into it with another knife before retrieving the first, and sidestepping its wide swing as it collapsed with a whine. Merlon wasted no time after that and spun around to face the oncoming charge head on.
“Come on ye’ little pups!” he challenged and bared his teeth. Another wolf accepted and growled at him. He sized it up at around six feet tall and at least ten long with paws the size of his torso and a mouth full of fangs longer than his arm. He stared it down and growled right back, hurtled between its front legs and hacked them out from beneath the great beast, rolling out of the way as it fell. He looked to the side and saw the elf leap around another while stabbing it between each landing, juggling the attention of two wolves with the same tactic. After a few passes, they both backed away from the cloaked elf with a dozen cuts.
The pack emerged now as a group and surrounded the two “prey”. All were at least as large as the first two, with pelts varying in color from brown to gray, each with the same snarling expression. A single wolf stepped forward, larger than the rest by at least a Merlon, with jet-black fur with bright blue eyes. It howled a haunting tune that sent shivers through Outsider and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The others joined in one by one until the myriad of voices created a harmony that thrummed in their chests with the force.
The Alpha, Outsider assumed, stared down at him with those cold cerulean eyes. He stared back with the intensity of his life. They stood there, feet apart, gauging one another and the threat he proposed. The others slowly pressed in on him, snarling and drooling with anticipation.
The titanic canine’s breath was hot on his face and stank of raw meat and blood. The warm stench stung his eyes and perspired on his skin. He knew he was being tested and refused the option of failure. He knew it was rare for wolves to declare one as such a worthy opponent. His pride demanded victory and who was he to deny it?
A growl rippled through the Alpha’s chest and he could sense the wolves behind him back away obediently. Seconds ticked by like hours as they watched. Merlon, in his battle-rage, had to use all his willpower not to heave his axe into the thick sinewy muscle of the gigantic black wolf as its neck craned forward to close in on ‘Aegis’. The elf’s white hair ruffled as a nose the size of his head sniffed it, and then lowered to his face. Outsider tensed as he always expected the worse, but held his composure.
Merlon wiped the sweat from his brow and onto his trousers so that his hand would be dry to hold his axe. He tested its weight once more for throwing, just in case, he told himself. He always had the spare across his back. It was much larger and wreaked immense damage, but was slow and heavy. He would prefer the speed of his small axe compared to his axion, but would make due if he must.
Fortunately, the Alpha was appeased and after nearly five minutes of a staring contest, he deemed the dark one dangerous and howled a sudden blast into the elf’s face that made his heart skip a beat. The pack joined in one by one again until the crescendo reached a melody that Outsider swore he knew. He looked back and forth from the Alpha to the pack, and all eyes were on him. With a glance at Merlon, who was bewildered by the spectacle, he knew what to do.
He raised his head high and whistled the missing note.
The howling died away, echoing throughout the forest and seeming to change with each repetition, replaced by a soothing calm. Even the dwarf felt the change in atmosphere and at Aegis’ beckoning, slid his axe through its loop. Each wolf then passed by Outsider and sniffed him before disappearing into the woods; the wounded ones more hesitant than the others. Utterly ignoring Merlon was no more than he could have asked for and he thanked the stone beneath his feet for receiving his wish.
Outsider however reveled in it. He despised being the center of attention, but these wolves were hunters like him, the black Alpha a kindred spirit. He could sense it, just as he had known they were there watching him. The leader was last to leave and eyed him poignantly before vanishing into the trees.
Outsider couldn’t deny the sense of loss he felt at their departure. But it was quickly filed away for later
. Without a word he swept across the clearing and up the slope to Jiff. The excited gelding leapt away whinnying and frenzied until he gripped the reins and called his name several times. Gradually Jiff calmed long enough for him to whisper in his ear and comfort him. The horse was covered in scratches and scared, but ultimately unharmed. Convinced his horse was okay, Outsider moved back around and found the rope tied to the saddle severed.
His sixth sense spiked again suddenly when a cry from behind made him jump. He turned, knife drawn, and found Thom sprawled across the ground, a knife in his hand, beneath Merlon. The dwarf’s face was contorted in a rage again.
“Your friend here was sneakin’ up on you with that knife he was! Just how sick is he, Aegis?” Concern evident in his voice, he pried the blade from the hobbit’s hand and returned it to the elf. “He’s pretty scraped up, and his back will need to be cleaned. But he seems alright.”
He lifted Thom up and dusted him off. Thom, stunned and furious pushed him away. “Get off me! Who do you think you are?”
“He looks pretty shaken, Aegis. Well my name’s Merlon, of Journ, son of—“
“I don’t care! Who the devil is Aegis?”
“What’s this? He’s forgotten who you are!”
Outsider shook his head. “Yes, it would appear so. I’d best get him to a doctor immediately. Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.” He struck Thom over the head, knocking him out cold. “Thank you so much for your help, Merlon.” He shook the dwarf’s hand and tossed Thom onto the horse then tied him down again. He threw the hobbit a furious glare none could see beneath his hood, and mounted Jiff.
“Farewell, good dwarf, and may you find fortune in your travels.” He started to set off but Merlon ran in front of them.
“Wait! I’m goin’ with ye’ I am!” He raised his voice. “Me town is dead. Everyone up and disappeared, not a single thing left behind. I have to find out what’s happened to ‘em! And the north is no place for a lone rider. Please, Aegis.”
“Who—?“ Thom began groggily when he was thumped again. A slight snoring came from him then.
“He needs to rest.” Outsider explained. He desperately needed to get the hobbit back to Cain Sander, but didn’t want to dishonor the one person who had shown him any kindness in months. He wasn’t a bad person and appreciated company religiously. However, when that person is overly trusting and gullible due to a shattered mindset, morals seem to shift.
A plan began to formulate in his mind.
“Alright. But you need a horse. Do you have any left?”
The dwarf shook his head crestfallen. “’Fraid not. They all disappeared too.”
“Thom can’t wait around much longer. He’s deteriorating too quickly.” Outsider reasoned. “I have to take him to Delvin immediately. So how about I take him, then while he’s recuperating, I bring you a horse to come along with us?”
The dwarf smiled. His eyes though distant and obviously addled, brightened. “That be alright, Aegis. That be alright.”
“Of course,” the elf added, “I don’t have the coin for such a thing. I suppose I could work it up for a few days..”
“No need!” Merlon thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin purse. He tossed it up to the elf who caught it with a deft hand. “Just get what you can! Preferably a pony. Fraid I might just slow ye’ down if I’m constantly havin’ to make sure I aint ‘bout to fall.”
Outsider nodded. “I shall bring you the most loyal pony I come across, dear friend. I shall return as soon as I can.”
And with that he sped on Jiff, pocket jingling happily.