“Hey, why do you need me to go?” Qyxal protested. “Why don’t you just get some guards?”
“Because we don’t have time and you, being an elf, are probably a better tracker than any of them. Now hurry and get on!” Justan commanded. The elf sighed and mounted Albert.
“Wait just a minute!” Vannya complained. “I’m going too. If they are injured, I’m a better healer than Qyxal!”
“Then who’s going to tell the council?” Justan asked.
“Jeffrey will.” She walked over to the man and gave him her most charming smile. “Jeffrey, would you please tell the council and the guards that we are going out to find the missing men?”
The man blushed and nodded.
“Thank you. Oh, and please also tell them that we need them to send some people to help, just in case, okay?” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Justan and lifted a hand.
With a wry grin, he helped her up behind him. “You are something else,” he said.
The threesome galloped out of the school and up the road. Qyxal rode with fluidity, almost as if he and the horse were one. On the other hand, Justan didn’t have as much experience on horses as he would have liked, and obviously neither did Vannya, for both of them bounced around madly. It would have made more sense for Vannya to ride with Qyxal, but they didn’t have time to trade off. Besides, for some reason, Justan didn’t want to see her riding behind the handsome elf.
The trip that had taken a couple of hours for the caravan was much quicker for the would-be rescuers galloping along at full speed. Still, to Justan it seemed as if it lasted forever. His legs and buttocks were bruised and battered and he knew he’d be sore in the morning. As they arrived at the grove of trees where Justan had last seen Riveren, the sun had almost reached the horizon. The light was quickly fading.
Qyxal pulled his horse close to Justan. “This is where you last saw him?” the elf asked.
“Yes, but Zambon had already been missing for most of the day. I have no idea how far back down the road Riveren went,” Justan responded.
“I see. Well, we’ll just have to move slowly up the road until I see some sign that the guards left it.” Qyxal patted the horse’s head and whispered some words into his ear. He looked back at Justan. “Albert should be of some help. I have a certain understanding with him. Remember, the horses know what happened even though we don’t.”
Justan looked back at Vannya who was wincing with every movement from the horse. “Have there been any reports of goblins in this area?” he asked.
She shook her head. “There haven’t been monsters of any kind on this stretch of road for years. However, I’ve been gone for a month, so maybe things have changed.”
They both looked to Qyxal who shrugged. “About a week ago, there was a traveler that came to the school, who swore that he had been chased along the road by something. The guards were sent out and nothing was found. If Vannya hadn’t found goblin blood on the horse, I wouldn’t have believed it possible myself.”
They searched along the road at a slower pace, and as the light dimmed, Justan began to worry. When the horses had been discovered, he had been so sure of his course. But as he looked at his two companions, Justan had to wonder. Had he been stupid in taking off like this, accompanied by nothing but two mages? Anything that could have overcome two academy graduates surely would be more than a match for the three companions.
Perhaps the fact that he had fought his way out of a forest full of moonrats made him feel invincible. But what of these two who had come with him? What if something happened to one of them? He thought about what had almost happened to Jhonate the last time he had charged headlong into such a situation and shuddered. Just as he considered turning around and returning to the school, Qyxal motioned that he had found something.
Justan leapt down from the horse and ran over to him, feeling his sore muscles protest the whole way. Vannya grumbled and gingerly dismounted from Stanza, wincing and rubbing her lower back. Qyxal pointed to the east side of the road. The bushes were disheveled and when the elf tried to bring Albert that way, the horse refused.
Justan had Qyxal tie the horses on the side of the road out in the open. If help came from the school, this would let them know where they had gone. He suddenly realized that his companions had no weapons. He berated himself for not thinking that far ahead. He tried to give them his swords, but they both shook their heads and pointed to their temples. Magic would be their most effective form of attack.
Qyxal led them off of the road, for his elven eyesight was keen even in the dim light. Just past the disheveled bushes was a clearing. Justan didn’t need to be a tracker to know that there had been quite a skirmish there. Plants were flattened and trampled and the elf found patches of blood, both goblinoid and human. There were no bodies, just one crudely made arrow.
At the sight of the arrow, Justan pulled the Jharro bow off of his back and restrung it with the golden dragon hair string. He had a quiver full of arrows and had a feeling he might need them. From the clearing, there was a trail of snapped branches and twigs that led them to the lip of a ravine. A glow came from deep within, and faint voices could be heard.
Justan and his friends laid down in the leaves by the ravine and peeked over the edge. The glow came from a campfire at the bottom. There were several large forms moving around the fire.
“Orcs!” Qyxal hissed.
Orcs looked much like goblins, but were much bigger, about the size of a human. They were mean brutes with beady yellow eyes and green mottled skin. Far more intelligent than their diminutive cousins, they carried many different types of weapons. The orcs weren’t as plentiful as goblins, but often used the little beasts as slave labor.
Several goblins were tossing wood in to the fire from nearby trees and there were two hideous bodies being turned on a spit above the fire. At first Justan thought the worst, but then his nose caught a whiff of something that he had smelled all too recently. It was roasted goblin flesh. Justan figured that these were the bodies of goblins killed by the guards in the skirmish by the road. Orcs were known to eat their slaves.
Justan motioned and the three companions crept along the lip of the ravine to get a closer look. When they got closer to the fire, they laid down again. On the south side of the fire staked to the ground, were the two missing guards. At this distance, Justan could see Riveren struggling in his bonds. Zambon was unmoving, however. He looked around the campfire and counted five orcs and four goblins.
Justan’s tactical mind started working. “Qyxal, what spells can you use to help?”
“Fireballs and earthquakes, but I don’t dare try them from this distance. I might kill your friends. I do have a sleeping spell, but I would have to get up close to use it.”
Justan turned to Vannya. “From personal experience I know that the effects from your lightning spell spreads out over the ground. If you strike on the opposite side of the fire from the guards, could it still harm them?” She nodded apologetically. Justan sighed. “Okay. Qyxal, can you fire a bow?”
Qyxal smiled. “I am an elf aren’t I?”
“Good, then this is the plan. I’m going to take out as many of the orcs as I can with the bow before they know what’s happening. Then I’m going to hand it over to you and go down there with my swords. The bow will not be as effective if I'm not using it, but with the dragon hair string you should be able to do some damage.
“Vannya, as soon as I hand the bow to Qyxal, send a lightning bolt as close as you dare without harming the guards. This should give me some time to get down there. Qyxal you cover me. I should be able to handle whatever is left when I arrive.” He got to his knees. “Do you understand?”
They were staring at him open jawed, but managed to nod. Justan pulled the quiver off of his back and handed it to Qyxal who strapped it on. Justan took three arrows out of the quiver and stuck them point down into the ground in front of him within easy reach.
“Alright, this has to be perfec
tly timed. Are you ready?” They nodded again. “I know we can do this.” He put an arrow to the string and pulled back, feeling the power vibrate. “Here we go.”
Chapter Thirty One
Riveren was staked to the ground spread-eagled. The ropes tied to his wrists and ankles were stretched so tight that his back barely touched the ground. A goblin was sitting on his chest, giggling at his discomfort. The pain was excruciating. His sockets felt as if they might pop at any second.
Riveren was a strong man. His body was perfectly sculpted and he was in great shape, as one had to be in order to fight with his ax style, but with his extremities stretched to such lengths, he couldn’t even begin to pull on his bindings. He was helpless.
He looked over at Zambon. His friend wasn’t tied as tightly. His wounds were so serious that to stretch him like that would probably kill him. Riveren didn’t see much chance of survival for his friend or himself at this point. The only glimmer of hope that he had was that it was goblin flesh being cooked instead of horse flesh, which was an orc’s favorite meat. This told him that the horses had escaped and since they were regularly stabled at the school perhaps they would return there. At the very least it would give the wizards some warning because as far as he could tell, the orcs were planning some sort of attack.
The beasts had been torturing him for information for hours. One in particular, their leader, was named Marckus, and he was big and mean. He was an amazing fighter too. Riveren had watched the orc beat Zambon with ease.
Marckus demanded to know about the defenses of the school. He was prying for any kind of weakness. When he told Marckus that he had never been there, the orc didn’t believe him. Riveren had been burned with coals until he had finally explained that he was from the Battle Academy and not the Mage School. Then all the orc wanted to know was about the academy.
Riveren hadn’t told him anything. But through the pain, he wondered what would happen if he did. He doubted that a group of eight orcs and four goblins would be able to do anything to harm either school. The only thing that kept him from talking was the sheer boldness of these orcs coming so close to the tower.
It was possible that these orcs were just a scouting party for a much larger army that was planning an invasion. Riveren kept his mouth shut and endured the pain. He could hear Zambon’s breathing become ragged. The hope that his friend’s suffering was coming to an end was comforting.
The goblin sitting on his chest spat on him to get his attention. “Hey, big man. You answer Marckus he maybe let you go, huh? Maybe we not eat your friend.”
He spat back at the goblin, hitting it in the eye. The creature laughed and stood up on his chest. The nasty little creature began jumping up and down. Riveren’s joints felt like they were on fire.
Then the goblin’s head exploded.
The creature was jerked through the air in a hail of gore. Justan didn’t wait for it to land, but fired at the orc standing closest to the guards. It was slack-jawed, wondering how the goblin had died until the arrow caught it in the chest. The powerful shot sent the heavy creature flying several yards to collide against the ravine wall with enough force to crack its bones.
The orc standing closest to it had the chance to let out a surprised shout before the next arrow tore its throat out. The force of the shot sent the orc flipping into the fire. The orc's macabre dinner fell off of the spits. As sparks flew, the remaining orcs and goblins in the camp cried out in alarm.
Justan quickly handed the bow to a stunned Qyxal who had never seen such a raw display of power from a weapon before. Justan patted the elf on the shoulder and jumped over the edge of the ravine. The drop from the lip they had been looking over was steep, but sloped at the bottom and Justan slid down the incline in a storm of dust and pebbles.
During his fall there was a blinding flash and Justan knew that Vannya’s lightning bolt had struck. The bolt hit the orc furthest from the fire full on sending so many volts through him that his toes shot off. He was dead on contact. The shock traveled through the ground as well and killed one of the goblins closest to the orc, boiling its blood. Another orc was paralyzed and lay jittering on the ground.
Only one orc was left standing. It was the leader, Marckus. He had dived for cover behind a large rock as soon as the first goblin was hit.
When Justan came to a stop at the bottom of the ravine, he pulled his swords and ran towards the fire. The first enemy he came upon was a goblin that had been away from the fire, gathering firewood. The creature was still blinded by the flash and he didn’t see Justan until it was too late. It put its hands up in defense as Justan came in. The first sword swipe took off its fingers. It didn’t have a chance to register the pain before Justan twirled around and followed the first strike with a stab through its goblin’s heart. It collapsed soundlessly.
Marckus watched from behind the rock until Justan wasn’t looking directly in his direction. Then he took advantage of the opening and ran for the guards. The orc dove beside Riveren and put a knife to his throat. Justan was running after the last goblin when Marckus cried out.
“Stop, human! This man dies before you strike!”
Justan was startled to see an orc still moving and wondered why Qyxal hadn’t put an arrow into it. By then the huge beast had wedged enough of its body under Riveren that an arrow might not kill it with the first strike. The guard cried out in pain with the extra strain placed on his arms and legs by the orc wedged underneath him.
Justan surveyed the situation. The last remaining goblin was hiding behind the same rock that the orc had taken cover behind previously. Zambon was white as a ghost and unconscious. His chest still rose up and down, but shallowly. Riveren was doing much better despite a painful looking series of burns on his body. Even with the orc's knife pressed against his throat, Riveren’s eyes burned with an inner fire.
Justan spun his swords in his hands and looked at the orc leader, options circling through his head. He could offer to let the orc go in exchange for Riveren’s life, but some things were starting to become obvious. Normally a band of orcs would have killed the guards at once. Why not this time? The burns on Riveren’s body were the final clue. Justan understood that they were in the area scouting for information. If he let the leader go, then there was a chance that it would take that information to someone.
Justan supposed that he could deceive the orc into thinking he was letting it go and then chase it down and kill it. But that thought didn’t sit well with him. Instead he walked over to the orc that had been paralyzed by the lightning bolt and put a sword to its throat.
“I have a better idea. Let the man go and I won’t kill you or your friend, here. We’ll just take you prisoner, instead.”
The orc laughed. “Marckus does not surrender.” To Justan’s surprise, the orc released Riveren and got to its feet. It pointed the knife at Justan. “You will surrender, human.”
Justan was taken aback. What made it think it had the advantage, and why wasn’t Qyxal shooting it right now? He heard a noise on the other side of the fire and received the answers to both of his questions.
Justan frowned. He had miscounted. Three orcs that Justan hadn’t known about stood there holding Vannya and Qyxal. The mages were gagged and bound with leather straps. The orcs must have been out scouting when Justan and his friends had arrived. One of the orcs tossed Justan’s bow and quiver to the side with a clatter and several of the arrows spilled out into the dirt.
While bound and gagged, the mages couldn't cast any spells. Besides, fireballs or lightning strikes would be of no use in such close quarters anyway. Justan’s plan had started out without a hitch, but now he was at the disadvantage.
The paralyzed orc at his feet was starting to move. Justan kicked it in the head to make it still again. He pressed the sword point deeper into its neck. “Let them go and I will let this one live,” he pronounced grandly though he already knew the answer.
Marckus chuckled. “How brave you are, human, but no. You drop your
weapons or all of you die.”
Justan knew that he had no choice, but he was sure that if he laid his weapons down, they would all be killed anyway. The orcs weren’t going to let them go. Perhaps if he attacked the orcs, he might be able to overcome them before all of his friends were killed, but the death of even one of his friends was not something he was willing to face.
“No!” he shouted, his mind searching for another option.
The leader grinned. The orcs raised their knives.
“Wait!” Justan yelled. In desperation, he appealed to the leader’s vanity. “Marckus, are you a great fighter?”
The orc leader looked at him suspiciously, but one of the other orcs shouted out. “He could kill any ten men!”
“Very well, then,” Justan pronounced and pointed one of his swords at their leader. “Prove it. Fight me one on one. If I beat you, my friends must be let go.”
Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One) Page 33