Realm of Druids

by Mark Hogenelst

  It was late afternoon as Shum trotted forward along a well-worn path just off the river. Brod kept pace with him on his Arachna-Pede that let out little gasps as it breathed hard. As they neared a rise in the ground that led into the heart of Duskfall, they were unable to control their warriors any more. They waited atop a small knoll as their brawlers leapt forward bawling for blood and raced towards the caves, where they believed the wolves to be hiding. The leading hounds reached the edge of a wide stony field that rose gently to the entrance of the Duskfall caves. Suddenly a high-pitched tone sounded that seemed to originate from the slopes of the hill high above the caves. Many brawlers pricked their ears up but did not slow their pace. The elf clerics stood on a rocky outcrop above and within the mouth of a small black cave set in the hill behind them. This spot had been chosen for its vantage point and concealment from below. They directed their staffs at the hounds sprawled before them that poured towards the foothill resembling an extensive spread of ants.

  The earth shook violently for a second or two, and a deep rumble sounded somewhere from underground. Sides of the foothill began to give away. Falling boulders crashed into one another and splintered trees as they tumbled down the hillside. Boulders of varying size leapt clear from the bottom of the caves to bounce and roll through the wave of advancing hounds. The noise was a deafening roar that echoed for miles along the foothills. The first 100 to 200 hounds were crushed as the largest of the boulders rolled to a stop at the base of the knoll where Shum and Brod watched their army flow before them. The boulders were splattered with blood and gore from the advancing brawlers that were unable to get out of the way in time. Survivors ran around dazed after immense boulders had just rolled either side of them crushing their comrades. From a line of low trees and shrubs along the base of the hill, several hundred hidden wolves emerged in concert and set upon the surviving brawlers. Silver Falcons dived from hidden perches high in the crags and swooped on the surprised hounds to tear and stab with their combat spikes. The wolves killed the survivors without mercy and then fell back to a line of defence at the base of the hill panting hard.

  The Falcons swept high into the sky and circled around this time, waiting for the next command. Shum exclaimed ‘There they are, the cowards. Send the next wave!’ Lieutenants barked loud orders and the second wave of several hundred brawlers trotted towards the heart of Duskfall. They exhibited caution after witnessing the fate of their comrades before them. 200 of Brod’s goblins jogged behind with weapons in hand, and upon Brod’s command held back from the mainline. The four elfish clerics had retreated into a high cave to recover and gather strength for the inevitable major battle. The enchantment to make the hill shake and dislodge boulders was taxing; however, they were satisfied with the results.

  Prince Lothian barked commands of encouragement as he proudly paced back and forth in front of his fierce wolves. ‘Come lads!’ He roared, ‘Let’s show these mangy dogs some Duskfall hospitality.’ Several wolves howled in laughter as many Falcons whistled in unison. All were clearly euphoric from their initial victory of repelling the first attacking wave. The Prince had lost none of his warriors, though unfortunately four or five Falcons lay dead. His wolves continued to howl in victory, though he knew it would be short-lived as the main assault was yet to come. The second wave of the vanguard brawlers having sensed the hill was not coming down on them, barked in delight and pushed on with greater determination.

  The wolves maintained their defensive position and shook eagerly. They were on the higher ground and had a slight advantage. A loud howl was heard over the din of the baying hounds. The wolves paced forward, holding their line and saving strength. Prince Lothian proudly howled a challenging Wolfsong and bounded forward to meet the lead brawlers. Barks and howls, whines and yelps filled the air. Jaws locked on fur and flesh to shake and tear savagely. A shrill whistle filled the air, and Ayah’s Falcons dived hard to strike at the heads of many hounds, using their combat spikes to take out eyes and crack skulls.

  The wolves being bigger and stronger than the hounds held their own. But for every hound they killed, two more took its place. The dead and wounded littered the stony ground, and the stronghold of Duskfall became a battlefield of death. After an hour of fierce fighting, the brawlers had not gained any ground closer to the caves. A brief impasse in the battle saw hundreds of hounds standing back and panting heavily. But the wolves were tiring also and Shum was counting on this to happen. Reports came from the scouts that the wolves were indeed tiring and would soon fall. The wolves could not seem to replenish their ranks with fresh warriors. Shum then gave the signal for the remainder of his vanguard, 500 eager brawlers from his own house hybrids, and the most savage of all the hounds, to attack. King Brod, who kept an entourage of his reavers with him all times, now gave the signal for the bulk of his 200 reavers to attack also. A lead goblin yelled out some sort of lewd battle cry, which the remaining reavers took up in a chant. They thumped their clubs, short swords and spears against their leather woven shields as they jogged after the Boarhounds towards the battle.

  The wolves had lost a third of their number and the Falcons half. Lothian covered in blood and gore from a dozen hounds he had killed, barked out a loud warning as he spied the remainder of Shum’s vanguard and the goblin reavers fast approaching. The last of the daylight was quickly fading as they poured down the slope of the knoll. Upon this knoll was where Shum and Brod watched the battle from their safe distance. A loud bark that was not from wolf or hound was abruptly heard above the throng. Those nearest to the biggest stronghold cave were the first to witness a mighty boar with a white blaze emerge. A thunder of hooves and 120 fierce boars charged out of the cave, the pride of Holk Sabretusk’s swine army. The wolves parted as the enormous boars charged past them at full gallop down the slope in a spearhead formation to smash into the leadership ranks of the Boarhound brawlers. Without fear, the saddleback warriors threw themselves against the might of the Wildpack. Hounds were thrown 6 feet into the air with dreadful wounds and trampled underfoot as they howled and whined trying to avoid the brutal wall of muscle and tusks. The advancing momentum carried the biggest of the boar warriors through to the goblin reavers milling in the following ranks. Goblins stood their ground at great cost to their numbers but managed to impale many of the boars with their crude spears. The Prince’s near exhausted wolves followed in their wake and continued to kill the dazed hounds that survived the initial swine charge.

  Shum barked loudly. 'What's this? Some still live!’ The goblin reavers fared slightly better than the hounds as they were ever more cautious and managed to hold off the remaining boars with their swords and clubs. Soon the first battling lines broke into pockets of fighting enemies. Falcons still swooped, but many more of them lay dead on the ground than in the sky. Holk threw a dead goblin reaver high into the air and snorted loudly. He spied the prince and two wolves in a circle of a dozen Boarhound brawlers fighting savagely and trying to break out. Holk roared and charged into three brawlers and a goblin. He bellowed loudly, throwing his mighty head left and right to kill a hound, a goblin and winding the others. ‘You must get the survivors to fall back!’ Yelled Holk to Lothian. Lothian nodded and glanced at the far knoll where he knew Shum was observing from and wished he was up there with him. The Prince threw his head high into the air and howled.

  With renewed vigour, Holk, Lothian and two wolves fought savagely to break through the tightening circle and run back towards the shelter of the caves. Several Wildpack lieutenants seeing the wolves retreat barked orders and the hounds mustered halfway up the slope to the block the defenders escape as they filed into the caves. Only several Falcons lived, and they flew high now to the crags as their sight began to diminish in the darkening dusky air. The defending survivors numbered 30 wolves and 55 swine. The Wildpack Vanguard still counted over 250 brawlers and 150 goblin reavers. Shum grinned anticipating a slaughter to end the Duskfall defenders once and for all. The Warlord Shum and King Brod confidentl
y strode down the hill to where their army had the survivors boxed in their caves. It was almost dark now and a detachment of goblins and hounds went among the wounded and finished them off. Shum sneered and said to Brod, ‘See the cowards are hiding in their caves. And that is where they will die.’ Shum laughed.

  Brod did not think the matter that humorous. He knew the wolves were cunning and he had already lost 50 or 60 of his goblin reavers, most had fallen to the giant swine fighters and Shum had lost a great deal more of his brawlers and brawlers. Shum vowed however that there would not be a wolf left alive in Duskfall before daylight, but what was this? A strange pale green glow came from a light above the caves in the hillside before them. The elf clerics had not been idle. They had hoped the wolves and swine had bought them enough time to complete a most potent enchantment. They sat in a circle inside the shallow cave and traced invisible lines on the ground. The lines they drew formed shapes and runes that glowed pale green briefly before seemingly fading into the ground. This was the ‘Wrath of the Vine’ summoning, which gave them the power to invoke the botanic familiars.

  The hounds and goblins formed a thick wall of troops in front of the Duskfall cave and awaited their final orders from Shum and Brod. One or two hounds whined and looked up. The pale green light was small and bounced down the slope like a little rock. It landed on the ground and rolled to a stop in front of the hounds. Several hounds stepped cautiously forward sniffing hard. The green ball then melted into the ground, and a crooked green line was just visible under the surface of the earth that ran in both directions spanning the width of the brawler’s front. The goblins sensed a powerful magic approach and began to retreat behind the hounds. Along the entire length of the green line, tiny stalks and leaves broke up through the surface of the ground and protruded into the air. They paused for a moment as the hounds looked in amazement.

  Shum quickly barked orders for his hounds to fall back to him. Many turned to run back. Suddenly the ground seemed to explode as a mighty tangle of thick thorn-covered vines rose up to create a wall at an incredible pace. At first, it looked like a mass of thorn vines, and then individual shapes could be seen within. Bright green eyes peered out of clumps of leaves, and the vines mimicked the outlines of the four cleric elves high above in the hill. The clerics stood bewitched, with bright green and brown eyes to control the movement of the vines.

  Long vine-like tendrils licked out and wrapped around retreating hounds to lift them off the ground and draw them back towards the vines. Many of them twisted the struggling hounds this way and that as if examining them, then tossing them high into the air. They landed and were killed instantly from the fall. The brawlers were horrified as they witnessed the death of their comrades by an enemy they could not fight. The yelps and howls of the falling hounds were drowned out by the constant rustling noise of leaves and shaking of vines. It towered 20 feet high and continued to throw tendrils out to coil tightly around the closest hounds like thick snakes. Again, and again hounds were caught by the vines and thrown into the air until the bulk of the hounds had retreated beyond the vines reach.

  The wall stood silent and rustled in the breeze of the night. Brod cursed that neither the witches’ nor his mages were here with their magic skills to destroy this thing. Shum growled in frustration. Another 30 or so of his fierce brawlers had been killed, and now they appeared to be in a stalemate of sorts. After a while, Shum sent two reluctant volunteers towards the vine wall to see what would happen. One managed to leap backwards, but the other was snatched by a shooting vine that threw the hound a considerable distance into the air. Hounds, goblins, wolves and swine watched as the hound twisted and turned in the air to fall crashing to the ground. The wolves were pleased with this. The cleric's enchantment had brought them respite and reduced the enemy’s numbers a bit more.

  Several hours went by, and Lothian anticipated the hounds trying to get around the vine wall to flank them, but nothing happened. It was mysteriously quiet, too quiet the prince thought. Holk was conversing with his remaining swine warriors as most of the wolves were resting as much as possible. Close to the midnight hour, dark clouds rolled in from the west and slowly filled the night sky. Soon, no stars were visible, and a cold wind had crept in. It rustled the leaves of the motionless vine seemingly toying with it, testing it. It was an unnatural wind, and the defenders sensed it. It stank of the witch, thought Lothian as he glanced into the Western sky. Several distant screeches of nightbirds came to the wolves’ ears, and those with keener eyes spotted several of them flying erratically above. The Falcons could not operate in this blackness and had retreated high in the crags to safety. Lothian conversed quietly with Holk who had sustained a gash across his snout from a goblin’s sword.

  The remainder of their wolf and swine warriors readied themselves. The Elvene clerics now seated swayed in a transfixed state upon the floor of their small cave. They crooned at their staffs to maintain the vine wall. Two giant warthogs and an enormous black shaggy wolf sat quietly at the mouth of this cave keeping watch. They took the scent from the air regularly for any sign of danger, as their orders were to allow nothing hamper the cleric’s efforts in their magic summoning. It had been quiet below for some time now, and the last thing they saw was a struggling hound fly high into the air above them and fall again below into the darkness. They looked about nervously at hearing the clicking voices of nightbirds echo in the night around them. They failed to see the dim jade light of a witches’ sweep high in the sky above them, partially concealed in the black cloud. The jade light faded to black and was replaced by two tiny red specks resembling fire embers.

  They sped towards the earth at a frightening pace and grew to the size of large boulders. The guards heard the roar of fire at first, and then and unexplained glow washed over them. They barked out a warning to the clerics, but it was too late. The fireballs struck the cave at such speed that the boom of the explosion echoed for miles into the moors. To the warriors of both sides below came a deafening explosion and shaking of the ground. The surrounding landscape lit up briefly like daylight from a fiery glow up the hillside. Showers of small rocks and gravel rained down from the black sky to fall upon the ground.

  The vine wall instantly shrivelled and dried to a dead brown mass, collapsing to the ground in a fragile state, now wholly lifeless. The clerics, warthogs and wolf guard above had been incinerated instantly by the fireballs. Only a thin plume of black smoke rising from the hillside indicated where the cave had recently been. For a few moments, a tense standoff took place as the hounds and wolves faced each other, each side trying to comprehend what had just happened. The blind witch Lilura and two more skyriders landed on the knoll with Shum and King Brod. Lothian had guessed witches’ had been responsible for the explosion that had caused the collapse of the vine wall. No doubt the elf clerics and the guards he had dispatched to protect them were dead.

  The wolves and Holk’s swine withdrew slightly to form a tighter front before the stronghold caves. Upon Lilura’s command, Brod produced six of his goblin reavers who prostrated themselves to the witches’. They were shaking uncontrollably with fear as Lilura had them drink a sweet-smelling fiery coloured fluid from a flask she carried, all the while assuring them that they had been chosen for a task of great honour. A short time later, Lilura and her skyriders rose into the sky again, laughing. Lilura produced a horn and gave a series of short sharp blasts. Brawler hounds backed away as the ground warped strangely in several random places, which then opened into black holes. Several Rust-Serpents appeared and flew purposefully towards the Duskfall caves with wide-opened jaws.

  The six goblin reavers pushed through the brawlers into the open and faced the line of wolves. Their eyes now aglow with a fiery red that pierced the dark air, as they had been bewitched by the Imperiatus elixir. The reavers movements and reflexes were now twice as fast, but at a dreadful cost to their life expectancy. The potion was a poison that caused the consumer to collapse after an hour or two. All six reave
rs had black chains wrapped around their waists that they unwound in unison and began to spin above their heads at incredible speed. Affixed to the end of each chain was a small blade which now began to glow red as it spun in wide arcs through the air, with a supernatural force. The spinning chains gave off a robust whistling hum as the reavers approached the wolves. Most wolves and swine were now engaged with three Rust-Serpents.

  They fought desperately and bravely, managing to completely swamp two of the Rust-Serpents forcing them to the ground as they tore savagely at their wings and heads. A troupe of boars charged the reavers and were met with spinning chains. The glowing red blades cut a swath through the pocket of charging swine. Shum’s watching brawlers howled with glee and ran forward behind the goblins. One Rust-Serpent remained, but the wolves and swine had taken a costly toll. Holk and Lothian charged at the last Rust-Serpent while the remainder of their army was being mown down behind them by the reavers with the chains. Prince Lothian let out a mighty mournful howl that was soon mimicked by the last of the Duskfall wolves. They all knew their fate and were prepared to die fighting for their homeland as they sang the last wolf song.

  54.

  ESCAPE TO ALEDRAN