by T. H. Lain
All this seemed like a sideline, though, when the wizard looked down into the cavern. The ogre bellowed its fierce war cry and drove at Ian. With a cry of his own, the ranger leaped forward and somehow managed to get inside his foe's reach. Stabbing upward with his rapier, he pierced its thick hide. Before the ogre could bring a two-handed smash down on the ranger's head, the half-elf leaped away again.
What can I do? Naull thought wildly.
She saw her friends fighting losing battles and she tried to clear her head. It still rang from hitting the cave floor and she despaired. Even if she thought of some way to help, what did she have that might make a difference? If only she could get one of them free from an opponent long enough to help another-two on one could make the difference. She just needed to think.
"Everything else is pretty much defensive," she'd said to Regdar before they came on this cursed hunt. "Not everybody can walk around in their own private golem," she'd joked. Grimly, she recalled her words. Then her eyes widened and she looked around.
Regdar… Regdar has the best chance of helping anyone, she thought. Boccob, may my magic be blessed! And, she added, Wee Jas, if I die doing this, bring me back to avenge my friends' deaths!
Naull cast two spells in quick succession. With one, her form grew blurry and indistinct. The other yielded no visible signs of effect, but she knew it had worked just the same.
Drawing her own tiny dagger, Naull leaped to Regdar's side and shouted, "Help the others! I can handle this one!"
Regdar spared her a glance of amazement and looked ready to argue. She physically shoved him-she knew she didn't have enough strength to move the man, but she tried all the same.
"Move! Before it's too late. I know what I'm doing!"
Taking her at her word, the fighter backed away. The orc lieutenant grimaced and said something in a guttural tongue she was glad she couldn't understand.
"Come on, then," Naull answered grimly, brandishing her dagger as if it was a weapon of power. "I haven't got all night. If I don't kill you before dawn, I'll never get my eight hours in."
Whether the orc understood her or not, it seemed outraged by her defiant gesture. Gripping its sword in both hands, it struck at the small wizard with a blow that surely would have cloven her from crown to crotch, if it had landed. But the blade sheared off as it approached Naull's blurred form and clanged against the stone at her feet. The combination of protective spells would be enough to hold the orc off, at least for a short time. Naull hoped it would be long enough.
Regdar, in the meantime, bounded into the cavern, taking a wild swing at Early's orc as he passed. The creature ducked the blow easily, but the sudden assault distracted the creature long enough for the farm boy-turned-adventurer to slam his shield against the creature's flat face. The orc staggered back and tripped, stumbling against the wall. Early slashed with all his considerable strength at the creature, severing its spear haft and burying his weapon deep in the orc's chest. Orc and man tumbled to the floor a moment later, one exhausted, the other dead.
"Early! Get out of here!" Regdar shouted as he moved toward the ogre. "Get Trebba! Help Naull! We can't fight this!"
Whether or not Regdar believed they could fight the ogre, Ian hadn't given up yet. Snarling, the ranger dived in and out of the ogre's reach, jabbing it with his rapier. The giant howled and bled from many tiny pinpricks, but its massive club came closer to Ian's head with every swipe.
"Over here!" Regdar called.
He stood close to the fire pit, his bastard sword gripped tightly in both hands.
Naull, who could see the fight with the ogre even as she parried and dodged the orc lieutenant's blows, wondered whether her partner had called out to Ian or the ogre. Regardless of his intent, the ogre turned and lurched toward him. Perhaps it saw a potentially easier target. Wrapped in heavy armor, the fighter couldn't possibly move as fast as the annoying half-elf.
For a moment, that put the ogre between the ranger and the fighter. As Regdar stepped back quickly to avoid the swinging club, Ian also jumped back, hurling his hand axe at the ogre's back.
The creature howled in pain and anger as the hand axe bit deep into its well-muscled back. Just as it started to turn, however, Regdar thrust his broad-bladed sword into the fire pit's ashes and flung them up into the ogre's face. Sparks and cinders blinded the creature and it dropped its club to paw at its eyes.
Naull almost cried in relief as she saw Ian scamper around the maddened ogre and that nearly proved her undoing. The orc swung its blade in a wide arc, striking the wizard a glancing blow on her side. If not for her shield and mage armor spells, the cleaver would have cut her in two. As it was, she felt herself smashed against the cave wall, pinned and helpless. The orc grinned evilly and leaned down to finish her off.
Then Trebba sat up.
Early had struggled to the thief's side and bound her wounds, but when the ogre screamed the man had started back down into the cavern, leaving her on her own. Trebba stood shakily and lurched forward. Naull, even as she felt fear and horror at the thought of dying at the orc lieutenant's hands, looked over the creature's shoulder and felt pity as she saw blood leaking down from the thief's lips. Then she saw the dagger in the woman's upraised hand.
The orc drew back for a final blow but grunted in surprise. Trebba's dagger caught it squarely between the shoulder blades. The creature dropped its cleaver, put both hands behind its back, and fell forward, brushing against Naull as it died.
Stumbling against the sudden weight, Naull twisted away and looked up to see Trebba collapse onto her knees. Blood flowed freely from her mouth, and in the light of the spell her dark skin had a grayish cast.
"Pick her up!" Naull commanded.
Early stooped without a word and hefted Trebba into his arms.
Naull looked back, and to her dismay saw that neither Regdar nor Ian had moved entirely away from the ogre. They were both on her side of the creature, and it was obviously still blind and roaring in pain. Somehow it had struck Regdar in the side and Naull could see the dent in his armor from twenty feet away. Ian was shouting and waving his arms-one hand a bloody mess- trying to distract the ogre as the fighter stumbled away.
Naull ran to Regdar and put his heavy arm across her shoulders. He didn't put much weight on her, which the wizard took as a good sign.
He's just got the wind knocked out of him, she thought as they stumbled up and out of the cavern.
Crack! The ogre had retrieved its club and the wood smashed against stone. Ian tossed one more taunt then tumbled away from the big monster. He sprinted across the cavern and toward the entrance.
"Let's get out of here!" he said as he put Regdar's other arm across his shoulders.
The half-elf bled from a shallow wound on his scalp but looked as if he could still run. They stepped over the body of the spear-wielding orc and ran as best they could toward the entrance. The ogre's cries of pain and rage followed them but didn't seem to grow any closer.
"Will it follow?" Naull asked as they neared the entrance to the caves.
The sky had cleared slightly and Naull could see the faint outline of the cave mouth ahead. She'd seen smears of blood-Early's or Trebba's-as they came, but there was no sign of either of them.
Regdar had a hard enough time running in his damaged armor and didn't answer.
Ian shrugged and said, "I don't know. Probably. I can't have blinded it permanently."
He looked down at the ranger, shrugged off everyone's assistance, and said, "I can walk. We must get moving. If we can make it to the road…"
The half-elf winced as they stumbled into the open air. As the three helped each other along, Naull felt two of her three protective spells fade. She looked back at the cave mouth but it was too dark inside to see anything. If the ogre caught them in the open, her mage armor wouldn't keep her from ending up as so much paste on the creature's bludgeon.
They passed the broken wagons the orcs had used for a barricade and Ian paused.
"At least Trebba's still alive," Naull said hopefully. "Did you see her stab that orc?"
Neither man answered. Naull looked back over her shoulder again. Nothing. She started to breathe a little easier.
The wizard breathed a lot easier a few minutes later. They'd picked their way around more debris-pieces from the broken wagons, empty casks, and discarded, rotting food-and finally reached the main road. This far into the woods, the "road" wasn't more than a well-beaten path, wide enough for two men to walk abreast. A few yards away, they saw Early crouching by Trebba. Naull looked at Regdar and Ian, and ran forward.
"Early! Is she…?"
The big man looked up, tears in his eyes, then back down at the woman he'd carried up from the caves. Trebba had a crude bandage wrapped around her midsection, bloodstained white against her dark skin. Naull looked at Trebba's face. Early had cleaned it somehow, but only after. The thief was dead.
"H-her wounds," Early stammered. "I couldn't do nothin'. She tol' me t'leave her, but I thought she was just being…"
"Heroic?"
It was Ian. He'd walked up behind Naull. His wide, elf eyes shimmered in the darkness, and his pale face reflected the starlight.
"She was," he said, placing a hand on Early's shoulder.
"We've got to keep moving," Regdar said. His face was grim, but Naull could see the grief behind the mask. "Ian, take point. Naull, Early, go side-by-side. I'll bring up the rear."
Ian nodded and started forward. He'd spent a few moments wrapping his burned hand in another bandage, but he moved with obvious pain. Early bent to pick up Trebba's body.
"No, Early," Regdar said flatly. "Leave her."
Early turned and started to snarl, but Regdar didn't let him speak.
"She died to help get us out of there. If that ogre comes on us now, we're finished. You want her sacrifice to mean anything? Leave her."
The big man bristled, then he seemed to collapse in on himself and he nodded. Sword in hand, he turned away and followed Ian.
Naull started to say something to Regdar, but he met her eyes and frowned. His pain was obvious, but it only matched hers. This isn't the way to earn a wizard's tower, is it? she thought with more than a little irony.
She caught up to Early and they walked in silence.
They'd gone nearly a half-mile when Ian stopped. The ranger leaned against a tree and started the painful process of unwrapping a makeshift bandage from around his shoulder. He winced with every twist but kept silent until Regdar caught up.
"Is it following?" the fighter asked.
"How the-oui!-bloody hell should I know?" Ian grimaced as he spoke. He'd hastily wrapped more than a few wood splinters into his wound and the bandage was sodden and red. "Sorry," he finally continued. "I don't know, Regdar. You hear anything back there? Ogre's aren't known for being sneaky."
Shaking his head, Regdar looked back into the woods in the general direction of the orc caves. "No. I thought I did, but it must've been an animal. When I stopped, it-"
And then the woods erupted.
How something so large and so violent could come upon the group unawares, Naull couldn't understand. Later, she knew it had to be their fatigue and the creature's knowledge of the area. It came up out of the dell, not along the path but through some secret way, something either the orcs had found or perhaps even prepared in case they'd needed a fast and silent exit from their lair. It had somehow known, or smelled, or guessed, which way the battered party would go, and it roared out of the forest at them.
Early went down first, before he even had a chance to draw his sword. The ogre's club swept around after smashing the big man's shoulder and barely missed Naull as she dived forward onto the ground.
Ian fell next. The half-elf had picked up a stout branch during their retreat, but it snapped when he slashed it against the creature's tough hide. Whirling around, the ogre caught Ian with the horny knuckles of his off-hand and the half-elf flew six feet through the air to crumple against a tree, unconscious. The ogre stumbled over a tree root as it lurched toward the road.
The creature had picked on the softest targets first. As Naull desperately scrambled away on all fours, Regdar drew his bastard sword and screamed in anger at the giant.
"Take this, you mishapen bastard!" the fighter yelled.
The sword split two saplings but didn't slow as it whirled toward its target. Biting into the ogre's tree trunk thigh, it caused the creature to bellow once more in pain and rage. The ogre smashed down with its club, hammering at Regdar's dented armor. He went down on one knee. The ogre, feet planted firmly on the road, raised its weapon for a finishing strike.
The sound of hoofbeats echoed on the path. The ogre whirled toward the south but as the hoofbeats grew closer it saw nothing coming. Across the narrow road Naull lay, speaking a few arcane words and gesturing with components drawn hastily from her pouch.
It wasn't much of a distraction, but it was enough. Regdar caught the ogre's arm as the club came down, then he used the force of the creature's own back-swing to pull himself upright. He stumbled backward, toward the wizard. Screaming in anger, the ogre whirled and came at the pair. It swung its club two-handed, and Regdar readied himself to receive the blow.
Hoofbeats rang out again, this time from the north. The ogre started briefly, then looked down at the wizard and snarled. Naull grinned feebly, still holding the remnants of her spell components, and she pushed herself farther back into the brush. The club reached the apex of its swing, then came down in a killing arc.
From the ogre's chest, a spearpoint blossomed. It was followed immediately by an eruption of red-black blood. The ogre dropped its club in surprise and looked first at Regdar, then at Naull. It tried to twist around but the spear broke and the creature pitched forward just inches shy of Regdar's booted feet.
The two adventurers looked up in wonder. On a gray horse that seemed to shine slightly in the starlight they saw a knight clad in full plate. The knight cast away the broken haft of her spear and raised her mailed hand to her visor.
Many Meetings
The noose snapped the rat's neck. Slowly, the slim line dragged the small corpse over the gravel toward the scrub brush and down past the roots. A scarred, dirty hand grabbed the rat and drew it up. There was a sharp crunch and blood stained the canyon floor.
The rat was Krusk's first food in five days, and its blood his first drink in nearly two. He hadn't wasted time once he reached the cover of the rocks beyond the desert, but the gnolls pursued him as if Hextor's own flails drove them. He'd moved as only a barbarian could, but he was weak with hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep. The gnolls were still relatively fresh and their leader was a masterful tracker.
Krusk's conscious mind didn't consider any of this as he quickly downed the rat, but he was aware of his danger. His heavy brows twitched constantly as he sought the cavern for enemies, but he saw nothing. Still, he felt them. They were out there.
The canyon was coming to an end. After a week's hard march, Captain Tahrain had told him, the canyon would begin to grow more and more shallow and after another day it would end entirely. Rough scrub would give way to low grasses and he should turn west when he came to the first sign of trees. A village lay there. A village was someplace he could get help.
Krusk touched the packet the captain gave him. Not just help, he knew. He needed help that he could trust.
Standing up and flexing his tired legs, he peered back toward the way he'd come.
A week's hard march, his captain had said. Krusk had made the trip in fewer than five days. The barbarian couldn't figure the math, though, and didn't even try. If Tahrain estimated the village lay a little more than a day away from the edge of the canyon, Krusk would reach it before the next nightfall. He thought of the pursuit and kn
ew he'd have to.
Leaving the rat's broken bones and a few bits of hide under the bush, Krusk started off into the growing night.
"Grawltak!" The name started out as a rumble in the gnoll's well-muscled throat and ended in a bark. "Captain!" he called out in the common speech.
To a human, it might have sounded like a dog barking, but a gnoll in the center of the canyon looked toward him. Crouching behind a small, scrubby bush, the gnoll waved his paw to attract his leader's attention.
Ten of his gnolls prowled the dark cavern. The darkness of near-midnight didn't trouble them; they sniffed at the ground like dogs and their coal-black, pupil-free eyes made much of the terrain.
The leader, the gnoll with the white patch and the notched ears, sniffed the air and slowly strode over to his subordinate. He approached the small bush warily; he'd had to put down one of his followers already after a trap, set by their prey, broke the fool's leg.
No trap this time, Grawltak thought. He picked at the bones and found the tiny noose. Not for us, anyway.
"The half-orc's hungry," Grawltak pronounced, also in the common tongue.
The younger gnoll seemed to find their quarry's hunger amusing and he cackled. Grawltak cuffed him with the back of his paw but didn't put enough in the slap to make the scout yelp.
"Good work," he growled.
Another, older gnoll joined them. He got down on all fours and sniffed around the bush and the bones.
"No more than four, five hours," he reported.
The old gnoll's speech was almost as clear as any human's, from long practice. The human woman who led them insisted all her servants use the common tongue in her presence, and Grawltak knew the punishments she dealt out to those who disobeyed her. He ordered his pack to speak common all the time so they didn't slip up when she walked among them.
"He's finally slowing down," Grawltak said.
The older gnoll nodded. He reached around his hunched back and drew out a leather bottle. Pouring water from it into a wide cup, he offered it to his chief. Grawltak shook his head and the older gnoll lapped at the water quietly.