The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  Within seconds he was running through the grass, hunched over, toward the dark shadows of the surrounding trees. He could see that Bositch had ignited his engine as well, but he still had no visual of Stephy’s. It wasn’t until he got to the trees that he could see, with relief, that Stephy had also been successful.

  A loud and furious commotion erupted in the orc camp as leaping flames completely covered the base of the engines, reaching upward as they began to consume the upper structures. Two shadows joined Tuvallis and even in the darkness he could clearly see their white teeth behind their broad grins.

  “Let’s go,” Stephy said hurriedly as he took off towards their horses. Despite the darkness they were able to make their way in the correct direction. They had paid close attention to their surroundings on their approach, and had used various markers to guide them. They had gone maybe a hundred paces when they heard several deep growls ahead of them. Stephy stopped instantly, and Tuvallis and Bositch joined him.

  “That were no orc growl,” Tuvallis whispered.

  Just as he said this, two large gray wolves appeared at the top of the hill directly in front of them. Standing next to them were two orc handlers. The wolves’ eyes, bright red, bored into their own. Tuvallis guessed that they must have been a scouting party that had picked up their scent.

  “Dire Wolves,” he said. “Don’t run.” Just as he said it both wolves attacked, leaping at them without warning. Incredibly large beasts, their shoulders were as high as a man's, with jaws capable of ripping off one's head with a quick flick of their powerful necks. “Spread out!” Tuvallis yelled. “Go for their necks!”

  They were upon them instantly. One jumped for Stephy’s throat while the other went for Bositch, who had done just what Tuvallis had told him not to do. He ran. But he wasn’t running away, he was running to the side to try and flank them. Tuvallis hadn’t moved an inch. He drew his sword and crouched, waiting for his opportunity. And it came quickly.

  Stephy drew his short sword and had just enough time to take a defensive stance as the first wolf flew through the air with its deadly fangs leading the way. The seasoned warrior lifted his left hand up to protect his face and neck, which he knew the wolf would go for, and positioned his sword for a strike. Unfortunately Stephy didn’t have a shield, so the only thing he could do was sacrifice his arm in the hopes that he could get in a mortal wound with his sword. The wolf’s jaws clamped onto his forearm as it slammed into him like a battering ram. Stephy felt his arm snap as they flew backward in a tangle of limbs. Despite the force of the attack Stephy was able to angle his short sword upward, cutting a nasty wound along the wolf’s flank before they landed in the grass and snow.

  But he was no match for the strength and speed of a Dire Wolf, and as soon as they landed the massive animal jumped on top of Stephy, using its powerful neck to violently shake his already broken arm. Stephy screamed in agony as its jaws ripped through his flesh, breaking more bones in the process. Just when he thought his arm would be ripped off, he heard a squeal and then a release of pressure on his arm.

  Tuvallis withdrew his sword from the wolf’s side and shoved the huge animal off of Stephy. As Tuvallis stood above him, Stephy thought he saw him wink before he disappeared into the darkness.

  Stephy got up slowly, cradling his mangled arm. He felt a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder. His shoulder could be dislocated, but he couldn’t tell for sure, distracted by the intense pain from his crushed and bleeding arm. The smallest movement caused severe pain. But he had to move. His screams would have drawn the attention of other orcs, and his friends might need him. With his good arm he gripped his short sword again. But as soon as he stood up to survey the scene he heard fighting to his right, and at the same time he saw two orcs bounding down the hill in front of him. The first one was almost upon him, short sword raised for attack, while the second orc veered to the right toward the other commotion.

  Bositch's attempt to flank the wolf had not gone unnoticed. One wolf had caught his movement and turned to go after him. Bositch caught a glimpse of the flying wolf out of the corner of his eye and reacted on instinct. Luckily he was amazingly quick. He was a relatively slight man, but his small frame was covered with sinewy well defined muscles, enabling him to move with lightning speed. He could run incredibly fast for his size. Though his legs were short, he could move them so quickly that he could outrun most seasoned sprinters.

  He dropped low just under the flying wolf, spinning his body with the animal as it leaped over the top of him. As the wolf flew over him he thrust his knife upward, its razor sharp blade slicing across its belly. The animal growled in pain, landed, and immediately leaped at him again.

  But Bositch was ready. Crouching low, he threw his bloody knife at the wolf, simultaneously diving to the side as he drew a second knife from his hip. The first knife had embedded itself into the wolf’s shoulder, causing the animal to hesitate just enough to give Bositch time to draw his short sword.

  But now the wolf’s handler had joined the fight and both crouched before Bositch, growling and ready to attack. Bositch grimaced, realizing that his odds of survival had just gotten worse. But his grimace turned into a smile as a large shadow emerged behind the orc, and in a flash of glittering metal its head was flying in the air.

  The wolf then turned on Tuvallis, which gave Bositch the opening he needed. He lunged forward and skewered the beast in the side, just as Tuvallis swatted its deadly claws away with his sword. The wolf howled and spun towards Bositch, ripping the sword out of his hands. But it mattered not as Tuvallis quickly buried his sword in the wolf’s throat, its howl becoming a gurgle as it fell, its warm blood steaming as it spread over the cold ground.

  “Thanks,” Bositch said as he quickly withdrew his blade from the wolf’s side. Tuvallis gave him his usual grunt, and they both ran back towards Stephy.

  Stephy bit back the pain as he let his damaged arm dangle, doing the best he could to ready his body for the attack. The orc growled as he brought his heavy cutting blade down towards Stephy’s head. Stephy moved back and brought his short sword up to block the strike. But the orc was strong and he was attacking from an elevated position. The strike shook Stephy's entire body, causing excruciating pain to shoot through his arm. He hastily back peddled as the orc came at him again. Stephy was on the defensive, blocking strike after strike, but was unable to react quickly enough to bring the attack to the orc. The pain was so severe that it was all he could do to keep the beast’s blade away.

  Suddenly the orc stumbled and he saw the beast reach up and grab at its throat. He heard the orc gasp and cough, then watched in a daze as it fell dead to the ground. Then Bositch and Tuvallis were at his side.

  “Can you walk?” Bositch asked as he withdrew his dagger from the orc’s throat.

  “Aye, hurts like hell though,” Stephy said through clenched teeth.

  “We have to move,” Tuvallis growled as they both followed his gaze down the hill towards the enemy army. The engines were now fully enflamed and in the distance they could also see the large fires of the catapults. Chaos had erupted around the conflagration, with bodies scurrying frantically about trying to extinguish the flames. But some orcs had heard the commotion of their battle with the wolves, and Tuvallis could see several small groups fan out into the grass towards them. They could not risk another fight, especially with Stephy’s injury.

  Bositch led them into the night and Tuvallis brought up the rear. Tuvallis grimaced every time Stephy groaned in pain. He felt for the man, but he also knew that if the enemy had more wolves, they would not get far before they were upon them. And that fight would not go so well. They had no choice but to run as fast as they could and hope that Captain Hadrick and his group were also in full retreat. They had left their horses about two miles from the enemy camp. It would be a long two miles, especially for Stephy, as they tried to elude their enemies in the night.

  They had covered about half the distance when Stephy stumbled and
fell. Tuvallis reached down and quickly righted him, concerned at how pale he was.

  “I’ll be okay, just a bit lightheaded,” he mumbled. Tuvallis looked down at the wound and saw for the first time how bad it was. His entire forearm was shredded and Tuvallis could see his broken bones through the torn flesh.

  Tuvallis swore under his breath. “Bositch, hold on, need to make a quick tourniquet.” He used his knife and cut off a strip of cloth from Stephy’s cloak. He cinched it tightly around his bicep and tied it quickly. The bleeding slowed but Stephy had already lost too much blood, and his eyes fluttered between consciousness and sleep. It was then that Tuvallis heard the howls.

  “In Ulren’s name we have to go!” Bositch whispered fiercely.

  “I’ll carry him,” Tuvallis replied firmly.

  “You’ll never make it. He’s too heavy.”

  Tuvallis said nothing and with a grunt he reached down and hefted Stephy up and over his shoulder. Bositch shook his head in amazement and raced into the night. Bositch was right. Stephy was heavier than one would expect for someone with such a slight frame. But he was a compact warrior, densely muscled from years of hard travel and fighting. Tuvallis felt like he was carrying a load of rocks. Tuvallis grunted with the effort as he ran after Bostich. Soon his legs began to tire and his lungs heaved with exertion. But he continued on sheer will alone.

  He got a quick reprieve when he stumbled on a snow patch and went down, dropping Stephy to his side. Stephy groaned and momentarily awakened. “Just leave me,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  The howls began again, this time sounding much closer. Tuvallis and Bositch looked down the gentle hill on which they stood. Racing up the hill, maybe two hundred paces below them, were three Dire Wolves, this time ridden by their orc handlers. Tuvallis reached instinctively for his arrows but realized they were not there.

  “Damn the Forsworn!”

  “What do we do?” Bositch asked frantically.

  “We can’t run,” he said as he drew his short sword and a dagger. “Good luck,” was all he said as he smiled at Bositch and readied himself for battle.

  Bositch was amazed at the man’s brazenness. Or maybe it was his recklessness, or his calm demeanor. He couldn’t tell. But the smile surprisingly relaxed him, and he too drew his sword and unsheathed his dagger. If this was his day to die, he couldn't think of a better companion with which to share the experience.

  As the orcs and their wolves bounded quickly up the hill, Tuvallis and Bositch crouched side by side and waited for the inevitable. But suddenly, from their left, they were amazed to see a giant apparition burst from the darkness and barrel into one of the wolves. It hit the wolf and rider so hard that they were lifted from the ground and flung fifteen paces into the night.

  The wolf and rider at the rear of the group pivoted quickly, instantly turning their attack to this new assailant. Tuvallis could just make out the fight in the distance, and he couldn’t believe what he saw. Their savior was perhaps twice as tall as a man, massively built, and resembled a giant, or an ogre. But what was really amazing was the giant's attire, in particular the brilliant and beautifully crafted cuirass that covered his torso and shoulders. Tuvallis watched, mesmerized, as the creature swung a giant silver mace as large as a small tree. The weapon glowed in the darkness and Tuvallis heard it swoosh through the air as it connected solidly with the unfortunate wolf, crushing it instantly, the sheer force of the blow sending both rider and beast flying through the air.

  Tuvallis’s stunned expression disappeared instantly as he realized the remaining wolf and its rider were almost upon them. “Take de rider, I’ll get de wolf,” Tuvallis said just before the wolf leaped toward them. Bositch quickly flicked his wrist, aiming his dagger at the orc while Tuvallis jumped to the side, bringing his blade down hard and slashing a deep gash across the wolf’s flank.

  Bositch's knife struck the orc's shoulder, but bounced harmlessly off its armor. However, the force of the blow threw the creature off balance enough so that, as the wolf pivoted, the orc was unable to hang on and fell from its back. The orc scrambled to get up, but not quickly enough. Bositch lunged forward and brought his short blade down into its skull, slicing through bone and brain.

  Tuvallis quickly danced backwards as he spun his blade left and right, fending off the wolf’s deadly jaws and claws. Suddenly, something hit the wolf with enough force to spin it in a complete circle. Tuvallis could hear bones break as it shrieked in pain. A rock had been thrown from the darkness, completely crushing the wolf’s hind legs. As it laid thrashing on the ground, growling and howling in pain, Tuvallis ran his sword through the heart, ending its agony.

  Bositch joined Tuvallis as their newfound savior slowly emerged from the darkness nearby. The beast, for surely it was no human, seemed to hesitate the closer it got. It stopped five paces away and just stood there with its teeth exposed in a wide grimace. At first Tuvallis didn’t know what to make of it, but then he began to smile.

  “What?” Bositch asked, nervously gripping his bloodied short sword.

  “I think its tryin' to smile,” Tuvallis replied.

  The creature looked like a cross between an orc and an ogre. Its body was ogre-like, thick and covered with course hair, while its face and skin color looked more like an orc's, gray green in color, with deep set eyes and heavily pronounced brows protruding over a squat wide nose and large mouth filled with sharp teeth yellowed with decay. He wore dirty furs around his waist and his huge feet were bare. But the strangest part of his appearance was his armor and weapon. They shone brightly even in the darkness of the cloudy night. Both were brilliantly polished and immaculately clean. Embossed in the center of the cuirass was a stag head with a rack of horns that fanned out over the beast's massive chest. Its weapon was as thick as a man’s arm and nearly as long as the creature’s body. The head of the mace was polished silver, as big around as an orc’s head, and covered with spikes each the length of a short sword. Blood still dripped from the weapon as Tuvallis gazed at it, amazed at how easily the giant held it in his hand.

  “Isn’t that one of Shyann’s symbols?” Bositch asked.

  “It is,” Tuvallis said. He had seen the symbol many times in the years that he had visited the mountain town of Manson. Shyann was an important goddess there, and the stag was a symbol of luck and wealth.

  “Hagar,” the ogrillian said as he tapped his chest with his empty hand.

  Tuvallis couldn’t believe it. Standing before him was a beast whose ancestry obviously included the most hated evil creatures in the realms, wearing Shyann’s armor and carrying her weapon, who had saved them from certain death, and was now introducing himself to them with a toothy grin. He had seen everything now.

  “I be Tuvallis, and dis is Bositch,” Tuvallis said, indicating the small scout. “My wounded friend be Stephy.”

  Bositch went to Stephy and helped him stand. “Tuvallis, we have to keep moving.”

  “Leeft,” Hagar said to Tuvallis as he moved his empty hand up and down.

  “What is he saying?” Bositch snapped, his anxiety increasing as more howls and commotion erupted in the distance.

  “I think he be saying dat he wants to lift him,” Tuvallis said. “What say you, Stephy?” But Stephy had lost consciousness again. “Well, we have no choice. Go ahead Hagar, carry him and follow us.”

  Bositch hesitated, not fully trusting the massive creature before him. But what other choice did they have? Bositch moved aside as Hagar slowly stepped toward them. Hagar seemed to recognize that slow movements would help them relax in his presence. He reached down with one hand and hoisted Stephy up as if he weighed no more than an infant. Slowly and gently he lifted him up, placing him over his shoulder; then he turned toward them and gravely announced, “I follow.”

  And with that they raced into the night.

  With Hagar's help they reached their horses quickly. Captain Hadrick, Groban, and Sury were already there and mounted. They looked anxious as they watched
their remaining comrades emerge from the darkness. The horses whinnied and stomped about in fear as Hagar approached slowly behind Tuvallis. He was so big that there was no hiding him. Captain Hadrick and his men had to hold their horses' reins tightly to prevent them from bolting into the night.

  “What in Ulren’s name!” Sury exclaimed softly, instinctively drawing his sword as Hagar came into view.

  “It’s okay,” Tuvallis said quickly. “He saved us.”

  “Bandris’s blade! That’s an ogrillian,” Hadrick said. Then he noticed Stephy draped casually over Hagar’s shoulder, and he too brought his blade to bear. “Is he dead?” Hadrick demanded, pivoting his horse toward Hagar and causing the huge beast to step away from him, lowering his head submissively.

  “I told ya, he's not our enemy. Put yer blades away,” Tuvallis ordered. “He killed two Dire Wolves and their riders. He could have killed us easy, and he's been carryin' Stephy fer de last mile. We’re alive because of him.”

  “He’s right,” Bositch said. “And his armor has Shyann’s mark on it.”

  Hadrick looked at the armor for the first time and his eyes grew wide with astonishment. “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he said. “But we don’t have time to analyze it further! We need to get out of here! Mount up, and secure Stephy on his horse!”

  And that is exactly what they did. Tuvallis quickly took Stephy, who was still unconscious, and gently tied his limp body to the saddle. Hagar kept as close to Tuvallis as he could, without getting so close that he'd spook the horses.

  “Hagar, you follow?” Tuvallis asked.

  Hagar turned his head sideways as if he were trying to sort out his words. Then he opened his mouth, revealing that awful tooth filled smile, and grunted, “Hagar follow.”