by T. H. Lain
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 knew 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.
"What's out there, Kark?" Grawltak asked.
His voice came harsh as ever, but there was respect there. Most gnolls who reached Kark's age were turned out of the pack, or if they were lucky, killed in a challenge fight. Grawltak saw his old pack leader's value, however, and kept the wise gnoll close.
The younger scout cocked his head and bobbed it obsequiously. The leader growled and the scout stepped back, bowing, then turned to join the others.
"Humans ..." the older gnoll said as he sniffed the air.
"Close enough to scent?"
"No," the scout barked, almost chuckling. "Not for this old nose, anyway. At least another day's run."
"Then we can catch him."
"It'll be close."
Grawltak bared his teeth and snarled, "If it is, I'll tear someone's throat out. Get those pups moving, Kark."
The others knew not to tempt their leader's temper. They'd listened, though, and even before the old gnoll jumped toward them, barking, they returned to pack formation and those on the points started forward.
Krusk squinted into the dawn light as he rose up out of the end of the canyon. The fire in his legs matched that on the horizon, he thought, but he continued to ignore it. A stream trickled nearby, and after a quick glance around revealed no signs of danger, the half-orc fell on his chest in the dirt and sank his face into the water.
Guzzling the cool, fresh water, Krusk felt the fatigue in his body start to claim him. He hadn't slept for more than a few minutes at a time since leaving Tahrain's killers and somehow the lack of water and food kept him from thinking about his exhaustion. Now, though, with more water than he could drink and its coolness splashing across his face and neck, he felt his eyelids droop. Rising slowly, painfully to his hands and knees, he cupped the cool liquid into his filthy paws and splashed it into his face.
Krusk sagged by the stream on his knees. His arms hung limply by his sides. Shallow breaths of exhaustion turned to deep inhalations of slumber that nearly drowned out the sound of the riders. By the time Krusk awoke, bleary-eyed and struggling, his greataxe was gone and his arms and legs were bound behind him.
"Are you hurt?"
Naull looked up. The clouds were breaking and she was amazed to see light glinting off the knight's armor.
Dawn already? she thought.
She shook her head and the knight started to dismount.
"No, no," she said, struggling to her feet. "I'm all right."
How long have I been out, she wondered?
Looking around, she judged it couldn't have been long. The ogre's wound still seeped blood and both Early and Ian lay unconscious by the road.
She found herself staring at Regdar, who was staring at their savior—a true "knight in shining armor"—as she stepped away from her horse. The knight was obviously a woman, judging by both her armor and her voice.
As soon as she hit the ground, the knight turned and walked toward Early, who lay by the side of the road. Regdar seemed to snap out of whatever trance he and Naull shared and he hurried after her. The wizard couldn't help but notice how different the two suits of armor seemed—Regdar's was dark, dirty, and dented, while the knight's shone in the sunlight of the new day.
Naull heard Early groan and she followed after the other two. Regdar was in front of the knight and had crouched in front of the big man. Early was sitting up and rubbing his head.
"You all right?" Regdar asked the big man.
"Yeah," Early answered feebly. "What 'bout Ian?"
Early blinked then started, seeing the knight for the first time. His eyes fixed on the knight and didn't leave her as she spun on her heels and strode back across the path toward Ian's unconscious form. Early and Regdar followed slowly but Naull beat them all there. What she saw didn't look good.
The half-elf's shoulder was smashed. His chest rose and fell feebly, but blood from his scalp wound covered his face. Naull bent toward him.
"Don't move him," the knight said from above.
Naull turned back toward the cool, tenor voice. The knight removed her helmet and Naull looked up to see her face for the first time. The woman had black, short hair that stood up at odd angles, as if she cut her own hair with a knife. It should have given her a sloppy appearance, especially since she'd been wearing a full helm only moments before, but somehow it didn't. Her wide, bright eyes met the wizard's briefly, and she crouched by the half-elf's broken body.
"This is bad," the woman said. She opened Ian's light armor and started picking wood splinters from the ranger's wound. The half-elf groaned in pain though he was still unconscious. "He's dying."
It was then Naull noticed something on the woman's breastplate. Inscribed carefully into the silver armor was a small symbol, an outline of a lightning bolt gripped in a firm hand. The wizard nudged her friend and gestured. He saw it and nodded.
The knight placed both her hands on Ian's wound. She muttered something, but if it was a prayer or a spell, neither friend caught the words.
Ian suddenly moved, arching
his back, and he let out what sounded like a startled sigh. The wound on his shoulder closed, and the abrasions he'd suffered seemed completely healed. He opened his eyes and started to sit up.
"No, friend," the knight said, "do not move. You are all right, and among friends, but you are still badly injured."
The half-elf's gaze met the woman's and he blinked in silent wonder. But he recovered his composure quickly and it seemed to Naull almost as if a mask had fallen down across Ian's face. He was back.
"Thank you," he said.
The knight smiled warmly. Her teeth, while white, weren't entirely straight, and that somehow surprised Naull, too. Her ears jutted out, her chin was too large—every individual feature of the knight's face seemed slightly off, but taken as a whole, they somehow added to her attractiveness. She looked at Regdar and the fighter's eyes locked on the woman's face for a few moments. Naull suddenly felt a little uncomfortable and made a sound in her throat. They both turned toward her.
"Yes," the wizard said, "thank you."
Ian lay back against the tree as Regdar and the knight rose.
"I was glad to be of service," she said. "Heironeous be praised, but it seems I got here just soon enough."
Regdar shook his head and chuckled slightly. "Some assistance," the fighter said. He sheathed his bastard sword and looked around. The path looked like a small whirlwind had touched down on it. "You saved us."
He pulled off his right gauntlet and held out a hand, and the woman did the same. The two clasped hands. Regdar's was weather-beaten, scarred, and tanned. The knight's was nearly as large, but pale, and the skin, while slightly freckled, appeared almost flawless otherwise.
Naull shifted uneasily and said, "I'm Naull." She stuck her hand out. "This is Regdar. The half-elf is Ian and the big guy everybody calls Early."
Releasing Regdar's grip smoothly, the knight turned toward the wizard. She continued to smile, as if she hadn't noticed the abruptness of Naull's introduction.
"My name is Alhandra," she replied as she took the wizard's hand in her own. Her grip was gentle but firm. "I am a paladin of Heironeous."
"A paladin," Regdar said with some respect. "I thought as much." He gestured at Ian and back at the horse. It stood over the ogre's corpse, shifting only slightly. "Horse's don't like the smell of blood, or the smell of ogres for that matter, but yours seems remarkably well-trained."
Alhandra strode over to her mount, laughing lightly. She raised her bare hand to the horse's mane and stroked it with obvious love.
"Windlass is a fine mare, aren't you, girl?"
The horse leaned into the paladin's hand and enjoyed the short ear-rub.
"So, um, what brings you here?" Naull asked. "I mean, we're happy to see you and all, but aren't you a little out of the way? I mean, for a paladin of Heironeous?"
"Naull!"
Regdar's voice had something of a scold to it, and Naull turned and glared at him. If Alhandra noticed the byplay, she gave no sign.
"Word reached me that there was trouble, away south, so I came."
"Trouble?" Naull asked. "Word reached you about a band of orcs raiding trade caravans?"
Regdar gave Naull another warning glance, but the fighter was curious, too.
"No. I hadn't heard about your trouble until I stopped at the town north of these woods."
Naull nodded.
"I decided then to take the woodland path rather than the caravan road, since it seemed the most likely place for the orcs to be."
She said it matter-of-factly, without any hint of a boast, but Naull felt her jaw drop slightly.
"You went hunting a whole orc band alone?" Naull's voice held both disbelief and criticism.
Alhandra nodded and chuckled wryly. "There wasn't anyone else. Still, I'm glad I didn't run into this big fellow alone."
The trio looked at the fallen ogre.
"He was the leader," Regdar said.
"Unusual."
"How so?" Naull asked.
Alhandra shrugged and said, "Ogres are dangerous, but stupid. They don't plan raids; they simply hunt. Of course, I don't know as much about ogres as you probably do...." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged again.
Without a sound, Ian rose up behind Naull and she jumped as he interjected, "No, he had a pair of nasty lieutenants. They probably did most of the planning. The ogre had the muscle."
Ian winced as he tried to rotate his arm.
"We dealt with them, though," Early said. He walked with a limp and used his battered shield almost like a cane. His eyes were dark and ringed with sorrow. "They won't be plannin' any more raids." He looked back up the path, the way they came and asked, "Can we go back, Regdar? For Trebba?"
The fighter nodded.
"Another member of your party?" Alhandra asked gently.
He nodded again and replied, "She killed one of the lieutenants, but died of her wounds. If she hadn't killed him when she did, we wouldn't have made it out alive. Let's go get her."
The party moved slowly through the wood. Alhandra offered her horse first to Early then to Ian, but neither wanted to ride. The paladin brought up the rear, leading Windlass along the narrow path. Naull walked up front with Regdar, and after a while she heard Early tell Alhandra of the ambush and the raid on the orc lair.
Naull grew uncomfortable as she watched the byplay between Early and the paladin. The woman listened to the tale with rapt attention, asking questions as they walked, but the more Early talked the more Naull realized how stupid—and how fortunate— they'd been.
If Alhandra agreed with Naull's assessment, she didn't say so. Indeed, though she commented on their tactics in some very specific ways, she avoided criticizing their efforts. Naull supposed that was for the best. By the time they reached Trebba's body, even Early looked uncomfortable when he discussed their foray into the orcs' lair.
"I am glad the rest of you survived," Alhandra said after they found Trebba's body and loaded it onto Windlass. "It is sad that this one died." Alhandra met Regdar's eyes when she said that and the fighter returned the look stubbornly; it was the paladin who looked away first. "It was a dangerous thing you did."
"And foolish," Regdar said at last.
Naull looked up at him sharply. She felt heat rise in her face.
Who was this paladin to make Regdar say such a thing, even if it was true? But then she looked at Alhandra and saw nothing but compassion on her face.
"That is not for me to say. Who knows what could have happened, or what might have been? You must learn from today and act tomorrow." Alhandra smiled and added, "And that, my friends, is the extent of my philosophy."
They passed a few moments in silence then, staring at the new dawn.
"And your other companion? The dwarf?" Alhandra asked finally.
Ian waved a hand away to the southwest and said, "He's back on the path, between here and the village. We can collect him on the way."
Alhandra started to turn Windlass in that direction and Early moved to follow, but Regdar and Ian stood still.
"What?" Alhandra asked.
Regdar shifted uneasily but Ian remained firm. Looking from one to the other, Naull knew what they were thinking.
I've got to hand it to them, she thought with a mixture of admiration and horror. They're all business.
Naull glanced from Alhandra to Early. The paladin seemed to understand, but said nothing. Early hadn't a clue.
"The treasure." Ian said matter-of-factly. "The orcs' plunder. It's down there," he waved toward the dell. "Let's go get it."
Alhandra said nothing, but Early started turning red. He lurched forward a step, painfully, and jabbed a thick finger at the half-elf.
"You want treasure? After all this? What about Trebba? And Yurgen?"
Ian didn't back down. In fact, he sneered.
"They're dead. So are the orcs," the half-elf said. "Let's get our reward before it's gone."
"The village is paying us. Our reward's there."
Ian huf
fed, "That pittance?That and the gold I'm getting from the city merchants barely covers my time. I'm here for the orcs' plunder, and I'm going to get it. You want to go back to the village? Fine—more for me."
Early bunched up his fist and took another step forward. Regdar moved to get between them, but before he could, Alhandra spoke quietly.
"Calm," she said simply.
For a moment, Naull wondered if it was a spell, because all three men stopped. Indeed, Early dropped his fist and Ian even seemed to lose some of his haughtiness. Regdar looked back and forth at the two of them.
"That's enough," he added. His voice was firm, but Naull could hear the uncertainty. "Early, nobody's more upset about Trebba and Yurgen than I am. I planned the ambush, and I made the decision to attack the lair—it's my responsibility. Don't be angry with Ian for wanting to do what we all set out to do."
"Reg—" Early started, but the fighter had already turned to Ian.
"Ian, take it easy. You're hurt, Early's hurt, and we're all upset. I know you came here for the reward and the treasure. So did I, but we don't have to forget our friends."
Ian met Regdar's eyes. He didn't nod or say anything, but there was some unspoken acknowledgement.
"We don't all have to go into the lair again," Redgar continued. "Early, if you don't want to, that's fine. You can go with Alhandra." He waited to see if the paladin was willing to submit to his impromptu plan, and she nodded with understanding. "Pick up Yurgen. Ian, Naull, and I will search the lair. If there's anything nasty down there—which I doubt—we'll head back to the village. If not, we'll carry off what we can and stash the rest. We'll meet you along the road. All right?"
No one had any objection. After a short break for a cold breakfast and a mutual checking of bandages, Alhandra and Early made their way back to the path and headed south. Ian led the way back into the lair.
Naull could tell Regdar wasn't as confident about the lair's emptiness as he sounded. Despite the clanking his armor made, he insisted on going in first, with Naull and Ian a good thirty feet behind. But he'd been right. If anything remained in the lair after the ogre left, it had departed soon after.