As my eyes fell on my weapon, I lunged forwards along the ground arm outstretched, with my hand now upon its hilt, I flipped onto my back in a whirlwind of fury ready for the beast that would surely be there…
But the Wolvern was not upon me? It did, however, remain a few feet away frozen within the light of the Glowball staff, like a statue is to time.
This was unheard of from Wolvern. Who ever heard of one standing still before, especially when it had the upper hand? I looked into the darkness beyond our light and saw many motionless eyes glaring back, it was then I released that the forest was silent… their snarling had ceased.
Suspecting magic at play, I causally prodded the hapless creature with the tip of my sword. Blood trickled from the tiny wound where my blade tip broke the animal’s skin, but still, it remained unmoving. Then the animal blinked! Reeling backwards, expecting an attack that did not come I quickly rose to my feet.
A quick glance to Baram revealed that the weaponsmith was also having similar experiences to me, as he was currently creeping forwards with his spear tipped battleaxe pointed directly at the two Wolverns waiting immobile a short distance away from him.
A movement of light, and the sound of a thud behind me had me turn more quickly than a merchant’s head on market day. Jaramel had jumped from the tree and was casually striding towards the Wolvern in front of me with my Glowball staff held aloft!
“Jaramel!” Baram’s warning whisper hung in the air as the mage stopped a few dangerous paces in front of the wild hunter. I watched transfixed as man and beast eyed each other for but a moment longer before the mage raised the Glowball staff even higher and uttered a single word of command.
“BEGONE!”
In the next instant the Wolvern immediately sprang into life, its snarling returned, its limbs again mobile, and hungry teeth were once again bared and ready to rend! Pouncing forwards, I leapt into action and just managed to get a hand on the foolish mage’s cloak with the intention of pulling him free from harm, when the Wolvern in front of him suddenly and unexpectedly turned tail and disappeared back into the forest as fast as it were able. As I looked the sight was repeated, as the backs of two more Wolverns were seen fleeing into the night on Baram’s side.
Thirty seconds later and all was silent.
“Have they…”
“They have gone,” confirmed Jaramel with a nod as he finished my sentence.
“But how did you…”
“It truly is the staff of Baros,” intervened Jaramel again as he eyed the shaft of wood in his hand with awe, “Master of beasts. Created by his own hands. A truly powerful rod of control.”
“Mr Stein?” Jaramel called.
“What is it?” I asked in question as my eyes searched the darkness for any signs of movement.
“You may release your hold if you will,” requested the mage, realising that I still held him firmly by his cloak.
“Of course,” I replied with a smile and released my grip allowing the apprentice to walk away freely. As he did, he held onto the Glowball staff in his hands as carefully as if it were a newborn baby.
The sound of a chain mail coat clinking together with each walking stride, and a bearded grin brought Baram to my side.
“Jaramel?” asked the big man in question.
“Jaramel,” I replied in answer.
“Thought as much,” snorted Baram and began looking intently on the ground around us.
Curious at his antics I sparked up a conversation. “Lost something during the battle my friend?” I asked inquisitively.
“No, it’s just that I am at a count, and for you, I count three,” remarked the weaponsmith.
“Why you dullard,” I replied in jest, “can’t you see there are five on my side!”
Baram shook his helmeted head. “This one is burnt and belongs to Jaramel, and this other one also burnt was sent back into the flames by Storm. Therefore your tally is three.”
“Why you! Would you have me robbed of the one that limped away into the forest!” I protested, “you know as well as I that a Wolvern with a wound like that will not live long!”
Baram grinned as he came to rest both his hands upon his blood-stained weapon in a defiant stance. “Well if you would like to go and reclaim the beast’s body, then I would gladly tally you four!”
“Huh!” I said in pretend anger, “and how many did the mighty Baram Oakengood slay this night I wonder?”
Baram looked down to me from his slightly larger advantage point and grinned even more ridiculously.
“Six!” he answered proudly.
“Six,” I repeated enviously with eyebrows raised.
Baram confirmed the count with another nod.
A smile spread across my face to mimic that of my friends.
“Just like old times eh Baram?”
“Indeed!” came the happy reply.
As Baram grasped my shoulder in a friendly embrace, and I his, he spoke again.
“You know Taragon, it’s a shame that we cannot stay and skin the beasts. Their hides would fetch a pretty coin at the trader’s guild.”
“Well,” I began as I guided the big man towards our horses, “perhaps when all this is over, you and I can go and hunt a few pelts for ourselves?”
Baram looked across and seemed pleased with the idea until a grim expression clouded his face.
“No, I think not” said the weaponsmith regrettably as he shook his great head, “Kendra would never allow it!”
Chapter Sixteen:
Rain! Cold and wet, it fell about us as if it was never going to stop. Assisted by a strong north-easterly wind, it was the type of rain that fell in huge droplets of water to dampen the spirits and chill to the bones. Sometimes I hated being right.
We had journeyed throughout the night. The rain had started to fall just before dawn, at about the same time we had finally emerged from the extensive forest to come and stand before an open plain, just three miles short from Hillstone Pass.
Through grey skies and thunderous clouds, my eyes followed the distant line of mountains to their western edge, where they suddenly fell away into a gap like a missing tooth from a grin. These were the mountains which we had entered into the north, and it was by this mountainous gap where I intended to leave.
As Jaramel and Baram slept, I continued my vigilant watch from the sodden tree stump that had been my chair for these past two hours. When we had emerged from the forest, we had decided it best to take rest within the protection of the tree line before our final push into the south. What with our exploits of the previous night, our constant travelling pace along with our lack of food, it was a rest that was much needed. As for myself, I was not sleepy. Personally, I had been happier just to sit and take watch, as this allowed me valuable thinking time on how we were going to tackle the problem of the Pass.
Another rumble of thunder above me rang out to match the one in my stomach. I pulled my oiled skins more tightly around my shoulders and contemplated the task at hand.
Looking out across the wet, sodden earth I spied yet another lone wagon snaking its way along the shimmering wet road that led from the forest towards the Pass. That had been the third one I had seen in as many hours. Apart from the wagons, the only other people I had spied were several horsemen heading into the forest by way of the road. More likely than not, probably scouts sent to keep their eyes upon the…
By the Gods! How could I be so stupid? Here I was looking for a way into the south, and here I was watching the very answer roll away from me. It was so simple it was frightening.
Springing up quickly from my uncomfortable seating, I made my way promptly over to stand above the sleeping bulk of Baram before shaking him enthusiastically upon the shoulder.
The big man rolled onto his back and yawned, he then opened his eyes with a start as if suddenly remembering where he was.
“What is it?” he asked in an urgent whisper, his hand already going to the weapon by his side.
“Wak
e up my good friend,” I beamed, “we have a wagon to steal!”
After rousing my sleeping companions from their slumber, we headed east along the forest’s edge until we once again located the road. After that, we headed back into the trees until we found a suitable place to put my plan into action. There was nothing to do now except to lie in wait until the next wagon rolled by
“Taragon!” Baram’s voice came in a whisper from the other side of the mud covered road where he waited with Jaramel, although I do not know why he was bothering to whisper.
“What is it?” I called back from my hiding place behind a, particularly large thorn berry bush.
“What do we do when a wagon approaches?” he softly queried.
It was a silly question and one that he should not have asked. It surprised me that he had even mentioned it at all as we had already gone over the plan in great detail. He and I would ambush either side of the wagon when it approached, and if they refused to give up their cart, then we would have to fight them for it. Jaramel’s task would be to simply stop the wagon from escaping with the wall of magical fire that he did so well should they try and escape. Simple, and hopefully effective. My only concern was whether or not there would be any guards. I certainly had not spied any along with the previous wagons I had seen. Maybe that was what he was questioning?
“What do you mean?” I called back.
“Well,” Baram began as he first turned to look at the cloaked figure sitting next to him before looking back to me once more. He appeared most uncomfortable and shifted his weight awkwardly in his saddle before speaking.
“It’s just that …Well, it’s just that I haven’t blasted well-robbed anybody of anything before, and…and I’m not sure how to go about it!”
So that was it, he was having morale issues! I quashed the laughter welling up inside me as a smile formed on my face.
“Just leave the talking to me,” I offered, “you just stand there and look menacing.” The large man nodded his agreement. “Oh, and Baram, if you need any further encouragement, just remember that these are the same people who would see Ranak-Lore in ashes.”
I swear I could see his frown from here! Baram spat upon the ground, then pulled at the cord which held his weapon in place. The long staffed battleaxe fell comfortably into his awaiting hand; he then expertly swung the shaft of the weapon around so that it sat conveniently across his lap. A final firm nod from the big man was all that I needed to know that he was read.
It seemed however that our wagon was not, and after nearly an hour of fruitless waiting I was just about exasperated, and saddle sore! At least it had finally stopped raining. With a sigh of discontentment, I slid from my horse with the intention of relieving myself within the forest. Upon my return, I was bemused to see Baram making strange signalling gestures with his hands. It took several short seconds to comprehend that he was pointing back along the road in an unusual jerking motion. It could only mean one thing!
Looking in the indicated direction, I saw a wagon approaching a mere thirty paces away from where I stood. Swearing a silent curse, I grabbed the pommel upon Storm’s saddle and heaved myself up onto the familiar harness, then releasing the straps to my crossbow, I grabbed its wooden stock grip comfortably in my hands and held it at the ready.
A quick look to Baram revealed the huge man’s eagerness clearly visible upon his face. As the sounds of creaking wooden wheels upon the dirt road filled my ears, I gave the signal to Baram that now was the time for action. With a sharp intake of air and a yell of surprise, we both burst from our hiding places and out onto the road. The two startled horses that pulled the wagon immediately reeled backwards in sudden alarm. This almost caused the driver holding the reins to stumble backwards into the wagon’s rear. Two blackened faced, northern warrior men I counted, no more could be seen. Baram had already managed to get the bladed end of his large battle-axe dangerously up close to the neck of a second man who sat to the driver’s right. The sight of the lethal curved blade under the man’s neck, still freshly stained with the blood of Wolverns, must have gone some way to convince him to release his hold upon the hilt of his sword that he had managed to grasp, and by the time the driver had righted himself from his near fall it was to the sight of my crossbow pointing directly towards his chest.
Now that the initial surprise was over, I had time to study our foes more clearly.
The driver was a lot more elderly than I had first realised. He was dressed in poorly fitting armour and wrapped in a fur cloak and was currently in the process of slowly raising his hands in a show of submission. Telltale lines in his face and the few scars that he wore told me he was a man who had seen a few battles, but many winters. In direct comparison, the half blackened face of the young warrior sitting to his right, was youthful to the point of inexperience. He cast frightened eyes from the blade under his neck, to the elder of the two and back again.
It was then that I noticed similarities in their looks as if they were almost…related. I smiled to myself at our good fortune; if this was the case, then neither of them would want harm to come to the other. The older man saw my smirk and spat on the ground as Baram cast his eyes to me for direction.
“We mean you no harm,” I said aloud, “we only require your wagon. Aid us in this and do as we say and I promise you, you will live to see another day. If not,” I shrugged, “then we shall kill you now and have done with it.”
The driver looked across to his frightened companion, and to the imposing figure of Baram before looking back to me to agree to my terms with a nod and a sigh.
Fifteen minutes later and we had our two northern captives bound to a tree a short distance from the road.
As I moved to question the men, Jaramel and Baram substituted the two wagon horses in exchange for our own. If too many horses were attached to the wagon it might be conspicuous, at least by doing this we could hopefully keep northern suspicions to a minimum.
On the way to the tree where our captives were secured, I looked at the weapons we had taken from them. One was a battleaxe, worn and old, with many nicks and scratches upon its ironwork blade. The other a sword, curved and new, the metal still glistening in the daylight like too much-polished steel. “Not too unlike their owners,” I thought.
As I approached our captives, the younger of the two looked up with frightened eyes at the sight of the weapons I held, but I swiftly calmed his fears by raising my hand.
“You have acted admirably, and I shall keep my word,” I assured, “but there are Wolvern, and probably worse loose in this forest, it would not take long for them to sniff out such easy prey.” I played with the edge of the curved sword as the younger man’s eyes immediately went to the trees. It was as if even now he could see some foul thing creeping up towards him, the older man however just huffed in contempt.
“Now I am not an evil man,” I stated light-heartedly and with a smile, “we have tied your bonds loosely, so you should be able to escape them after some time. So if you also want me to leave you your armaments as well, then you will have to answer me one simple question.”
The old warrior looked at me sharply in the eye.
“Then ask your question and have done with it!” he snapped.
“Very well,” I nodded back. “Where were you taking this wagon, and for what purpose?”
The old man snorted in amusement at my question.
“Huh, it is no secret, leave us our weapons for we were to meet with escorts who will take us to the rear guard eighty miles south of the Divide.”
“Eighty miles!” I repeated in astonishment. I knew in my heart that the Divide had fallen, but I would never have guessed that they could have journeyed so far, and this wagon was meant for their rear guard as well. That meant…that meant the main army could already be more than halfway to Ranak-Lore…perhaps even now approaching its very gates!
I looked to Baram who raised his hand in acknowledgement from his place near the wagon. Anvil and Storm were already harn
essed to its front, and Jaramel was leading Udos to its rear. This truth would serve him no comfort. It would be best for now if I just kept it to myself.
“Ha! I see you’re surprised,” cackled a voice from below. I looked down to see the old warrior wearing a smirk.
“Southerner are you?” he continued as I said nothing, “thought as much,” he nodded, “well soon there will be no south,” he sneered, “and all shall be crushed by the Ashar-Khan clan, and the mighty Vorgannon!”
“Ashar-Khan, huh!” I repeated, “Well then great warrior of the Ashar-Khan, it is such a fine day now that I don’t think you will be needing this!” As I threw their weapons a short distance away, I bent down and wrestled free the fur cloak from the back of the elderly Ashar-Khan warrior. This was instantly met with much struggling and a few choice swearing words that even I did not comprehend.
“And as for you!” I turned upon the younger of the two, who was no more than a boy.
“Am I going to have to open that nice armour of yours with my sword?” I asked while leaning a little closer for effect. The young man quickly backed away and hit his head upon the trunk of the tree in doing so, “or are you going to tell me where the item you used to blacken your face is hidden?”
The northerner’s eyes were full of fear as he looked down towards his waist. My eyes followed his to a small leather pouch that was tied there.
“Excellent,” I smiled as my hand broke loose the cord that held it in its place. Opening the pouch revealed a small coloured stick consisting of a waxy black substance. Rubbing a small amount of the coloured chalk onto my finger showed it to be the same thing the young warrior had used to colour half his face.
“Now gentlemen,” I said as I stood, “regrettably I must be leaving you…oh but I almost forgot, we can’t have you calling out to the first patrol that passes now can we?” Moving near to them once again I slid the gags we had made from pieces of cloth upwards from their necks to cover their mouths. The old warrior eyes blazed wildly and mumbled something unintelligible as his gag slid into place, I could not understand a word he was trying to say, but I knew that it could not have been pleasant.
Taragon Stein: The Search For The Soul Crystal Page 40