Purple streaks fell all around them after that, and he no more time to ponder moral implications. Their collective impacts released a strong odor that had a distinct resonance of rusted iron and ozone. Still, they ran.
Rezz ran up front, a little ways north of Leon. A missile smashed into the leather bracing of his hurt shoulder and spun him around. The injury caused the Vin to stop and pivot back to his attackers.
As Leon came even with Rezz, the man’s eyes shifted into his own, and he smiled, raising his Blade in salute before racing back into the mass of death behind. Leon was stunned. His legs kept running but it took him a good second or two to process what he saw. Had his friend just opted to give his life to help buy them time?
When realization dawned, the weight and guilt of leaving another companion behind came crashing down against his conscience harder than any of the purple missiles from above. His run trickled to a jog, before it faded to a stumbling halt as he prepared himself to turn back and meet his demise. But it was at that very moment that he saw a light up ahead.
Beautiful bright campfires were growing in the distance! Reed was already locked in on it. Screaming to encourage them all, he shouted, “To the lights! Head to the lights!” No one but Leon understood him, but they all saw where he pointed. Then Reed lifted Haddie into his arms and took off with renewed speed. The two of them soon left the rest far behind.
Despite lacking Reed's wheels, Leon turned on the jets once more. If he could get help, perhaps he could still save Rezz. Purple flashes continued whistling past the remaining members of the group until Leon heard something he had hoped to never hear again. Howls came from the camp. Yet, right then, the bone-rattling sound of wolves was music to his ears as their haunting wails tore through the night, momentarily silencing the taunts and jeers fast approaching from behind.
Looking around once more, Sved was there, but Dimples was gone. Leon held back and matched Sved, stride for stride, as they raced toward the lights.
Up ahead, he could see large, powerful shapes cutting through the grass toward them, coming from the direction of the lights. Many, many, shapes!
"Sved, what's going on up there?"
"The wolves! They must have seen the Fae slinging their colored stones. To them, it's a challenge. Get down, we don't want them to confuse us with those behind."
Soon after Leon and Sved dove down into the grass, a solid wave of massive shapes of furry fury swept by. Fortunately, they were ignored. Leon popped up and pushed on soon after, keeping his eyes forward. The ensuing fight behind sounded epic. It was sheer madness.
Just as they broke free from the sounds of clashing bodies and the ensuing shrieks of pain, and Leon could taste their deliverance, one last purple missile came streaking up over the top of them. It overshot both Leon and Sved by a good margin, but when it came down, a griffin cub screeched. The missile drove itself deep into the griffin’s back and the cub tumbled over with one last shriek.
The pain of the small creature was just too much for Leon. Too much death for one night. Leon screamed in anguish and fell to his knees beside the cub. Sved stopped beside them too.
“Come on, Leon. We’ve got to go! Can’t stay here! Carry him, yes?”
Leon scooped the small cub into his arms as gently as possible, and they hurried forward at a much slower pace, still making their way toward the lights.
# # #
It hurt to hear the cub’s mewling chirps of agony. They tore at his heart. Still, Leon held tight to the hope that if they could just make it to the light, he could somehow find help to save his little friend.
As they drew closer, he saw large carriage-type vehicles begin to materialize. Silhouetted movements from people near campfires could also be spotted. A feeling of relief took root in Leon's belly. It grew for a short time until Merle stopped several yards ahead and growled. The dog’s snarling nose was aimed in the direction of the fires ahead.
Leon kept moving but Merle leaped out in front to block his way. He dodged around him the first time the dog did it, but the second time it happened Leon stopped, finally remembering the lesson he'd learned with Merle and the rattlesnake at the old roping chute, back at home.
“Sved, hold up. Something's wrong. Merle wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t some sort of danger ahead.”
The two men crouched down in the grass. The wind was still gusting from the north. Leon lay the injured griffin down to try and make him comfortable. He could see where a small rock was lodged between his wings, near the spine in his back. The flesh around the injury continued to darken. Leon pushed feathers aside and witnessed violet streaks extending out from the wound.
Sved peeked over his shoulder and gasped aloud, “That rock must have been imbued with Death’s touch.”
When Leon looked up at him with questions, Sved shook his head. “Didn’t even know it was a real thing until now. Only ever heard bits and pieces from stories meant to scare us kids when we were disobedient, yes? When my uncle returned from these forests safe and sound, I chalked the stories up to forest tales and never considered their merits again.”
“What is Death’s touch?”
“It’s like what the Vin do, only the Ageless Tribe can’t kill directly like them, yes? When they change shape, they can only imbue stones or other such items with the power to break apart those connections that hold flesh together. It was said that the forest warriors collect those stones after battle and use them for their own twisted purposes. That’s really all I know.”
“Is there anything we can do? To save him?”
“No, Leon. I’m sorry, I don’t think so. I doubt even Olwena could help our young friend. Best to just make him comfortable, yes? He doesn’t have long.”
The other griffin cub came over and sniffed its sibling. It made quiet chirping sounds and nudged the dying cub’s side. Leon felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks. The north wind dried them as fast as they fell.
He couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. So, he used his Blade to dig the stone out from the griffin’s back, taking care not to cause more suffering for the cub or to touch the stone himself.
Still, the damage was done. Shortly thereafter, the cub breathed its last. Leon used the Blade once more to dig a hole and bury the stone several feet away from where the dead cub rested. No matter what happened the rest of that night, no Fae would be collecting the Death stone that had cost his griffin cub its life.
When he returned to Sved’s side, he saw they were not alone. Dimples was there. Merle’s hackles were up, and he was on high alert, but he wasn’t attacking. Leon calmed the dog with a hand to his back.
Dimples had completely changed, and this was the first time Leon had seen him in his current form up close. Short dark, midnight-blue hair covered his face and extremities. His ears were pointed, and his facial features were contorted, making him look more feline than human. Leon couldn’t help but notice there was blood on his chin. No telling what he had been up to, or whose blood stained his chin.
He bent low and sniffed at the griffin cub. When he glanced back up, Leon shifted uneasily. Dimples’ eyes were no longer his own. The whites were yellow with vertical green slits down the center. Somehow though, Leon could tell that the Hootsi mourned the little griffin’s death with the rest of them. There was at least some measure of humanity in there somewhere.
“Come on, everyone. Let’s go find Reed and Haddie up ahead.”
Dimples objected, the same as Merle. He motioned them all to follow him instead. Leon looked at Sved in question, and Sved nodded back in agreement. So, they allowed Dimples to lead them. The other cub whined in mourning but followed when Leon placed a hand on its back and gently bid it come using his Blade.
Dimples took them southwest, toward the tree line, then cut straight west before those cursed woods drew in too close around them. They crept north through the swaying grasses once more until they came to a stop on the banks of the Somber River, northwest of the wolves’ camp. Leon cou
ld see the churning waters below and knew immediately why Olwena hadn’t wanted to cross further east. The river's rapids were raging with snowmelt from higher up in the mountains to the west.
The wolves' camp was much closer to the trees growing along the edge of the Somber than to the forest beyond. The winds of the storm would make it challenging for any of the skin-changers still in camp to be alerted to their presence, so long as they didn’t get directly upwind.
Leon and Sved used the cover of those trees to sneak in close and get a better view. That’s when Leon saw what Merle and Dimples were sensing. The large carriages weren’t made for carrying supplies, they were cages. Heavy metal bars held all manner of creatures, and many of those creatures walked on two legs. Two of the cages even held human captives.
“Slaver’s caravan!” Sved gasped. “You see the guards, yes?”
Leon looked closer and noticed normal-looking guards stationed up on top of each wagon cage. He confirmed he saw them.
“Those are Bladed, but they are traitors to all that we know.” Sved spit into the dirt. “What these men do is evil, more so than even the crazy Fae from the woods beyond. They sometimes capture their kind in the borderlands and cut out their tongues to keep them silent if they return low on stock for the markets at Hollinger!”
They retreated further back from the camp and Leon consulted Sved once more.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing for now. I think I should go for help, yes? My people are not powerful, but we are wealthy. Reed and Haddie should be left alone until they get to Hollinger. We can buy them back before they are sold there.”
“How far to Hollinger? And how do we know they even have them?”
“I know they do, I saw a shock of red hair in the women’s cage near the big fire, but to answer your first question, it could be three to four weeks, depending on the slaver’s greed. Wagons move slow and these types are easily distracted by easy pickings, yes?”
“So, you think we should just leave them, shouldn’t someone trail them back, just to make sure they aren’t lost when they arrive at the markets?”
Sved scratched his head thinking.
“Could be a good idea but trailing a slaver's caravan through the border lands is a dangerous proposition. Still, the markets are a big place, it’s not implausible that we could miss them when they arrive. What did you have in mind?”
“Leave me behind. You need Dimples to help you make it home. I have Merle and this little guy here to help me stay hidden. I can do this, Sved.” Sved didn't want to give in, but in the end, Leon convinced him of the necessity of splitting up. They couldn’t afford to lose sight of the caravan.
He handed Leon a small stone pendant from somewhere in his pockets. “Take that to the first Otterkin trader you see near Hollinger. Ask them to help you and tell them that the Haberkorn clan will be in their debt if they do. I can’t promise, but perhaps it will make a difference, yes? It should at least get word back to us on where you were last seen.”
The little man grinned and turned to the Hootsi. “Come on Dimples, there’s a storm coming, and the waters might rise if we twiddle our thumbs too long, yes? Let’s go see how well a big Hootsi cat can swim!” Dimples gave a rumbling growl of displeasure but nodded once to show he understood.
Leon stopped them and grabbed Sved’s shoulder.
“Thank you Sved. You’re a brave man and a good friend, you too, Dimples.”
“Bah, you’re the one fool enough to follow a slaver’s caravan, I’m just running home to my family with a full-grown lion to watch my back!”
The two men shook hands and Leon drew him in for a hug with a hearty back thump before he released the little man. Sved and Dimples melted down the river’s slope and faded into the darkness below.
Leon and his two remaining companions moved upriver, further away from the camp.
With Merle's help, Leon eventually found an outcrop on the drop-off leading down the riverbank. It seemed high enough to weather any flood surge and it was out of the way of the rain. The three of them huddled down together for a chilly night. Leon felt comforted he at least had two warm bodies to snuggle up against and a semi-covered rock ceiling above while the winds cut hard and continued to blow.
They were all worked up and skittish due to everything they had seen, but when sleep came it came hard and fast. Leon didn’t even wake when the storm’s rains finally broke. However, the crescendo was over-promised and under-delivered; the downpour was nearly done before it started.
Chapter 21
The next morning Leon awoke to a rustling disturbance in the bushes nearby. Whatever was there, was slowly working its way toward him from further down the embankment, near the river. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and drew his Blade.
He did a double-take when he saw his lone-surviving griffin cub was the cause of all the ruckus. The cub swayed on its feet as it stumbled up over rocks and brambles, carrying an oversized fish in its beak. The griffin's wings, which were sprouting small silver feathers, were stretched out in an effort to counterbalance the weight upfront. Leon let out a long breath and dropped to his knees in relief.
“You little turd, don’t you go sneaking off like that anymore!” He was perturbed at the creature, yet he couldn't stop a smile from breaking free when the cub stumbled over the slimy tail hanging down below his chin. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you, boy? Come here, let’s see what you’ve got!”
He gave the cub lots of praise and attaboys while he used his Blade to fillet the prize. He and Gus were devoutly opposed to eating much of anything not blessed by a flame, but he was half-starved and the sushi he swallowed, though bland, settled his grumbling belly better than expected. Merle ate his portion after one or two disdainful sniffs. The cub, however, simply swallowed the scraps, bones and all.
A thought struck him as the cub's belly bulged. “You know, I never gave you or your brother a proper name. I’m sorry that it’s too late for him, but maybe not for you?” He squinted down at his fierce little companion, “Considering your newfound talent, and your surly disposition, how does Ahab suit you?”
The griffin looked up with a cockeyed tilt of the head and cooed through his silver beaked nose. Leon snickered. “Captain Ahab, it is!”
He stood up and stretched his legs. Dawn had come and gone, though it was still relatively early that morning.
“Okay, boys, it’s time we take a look around, but we’ve got to be extra careful.” Thinking things over, Leon reached out to each of his pet companions. He had been exercising his gift over the past few weeks. Now, he decided to turn things up a notch.
He focused in on what he thought they ought to do and, very gently, coaxed the Blade to lend him what he needed. The result was immediate. His gift allowed him to communicate the need for his companions to stay hidden and to help warn him if there was danger lurking nearby. Then, he sent them off to scout. Amazingly, they complied!
A few minutes later, they both returned. Somehow, he perceived they were encouraging him to follow. He took off after them and it wasn’t long before they were all peering out from the cover of some brush along the riverside. He could just make out the last remnant of the slaver's caravan as it disappeared over a rise to the east.
“Wow, they don’t waste time, do they?”
Leon sat tight with his two companions watching for any signs of movement. He gave it a good two hours before allowing them to venture out into the area where the caravan’s camp lay the night before. After using the Blade once more to ask them to sniff around the general vicinity and to look for anything out of the ordinary, he also broke cover and went to explore.
There wasn’t much to see. The fires were doused and the ruts from the wagon cages continued in single file. They definitely wouldn't be hard to track over the coming days.
It wasn’t until Ahab came trotting up with something in his mouth that Leon called them both back to him. When he saw a familiar metal etching refle
cting the morning sunlight in the griffin’s beak, his heart skipped a beat. It was Gus’ medallion! For the second time that morning, he lavished praise on little Ahab. Reed must have lost it or cast it aside when they took him.
Bet he didn’t go down without a fight.
Reality, however, came crashing home for him when he glanced up into the sky. Off in the distance, he could see ravens beginning to circle the area further east, where all the fighting had gone down the night before. The cold hard truth of what those carrion would mean put a short end to any momentary excitement.
The thought of burying dead friends turned his stomach. He could count the number of funerals he’d ever attended on one hand. Still though, he knew his companions would at least attempt to do the same for him, had their fates been reversed. It was the least he could do to honor their sacrifice.
He found the slain griffin cub first and carried the little animal’s body into the scattered remains of a much larger scene of death. Slavers and Fae lay side by side on a trampled and bloodied field of battle. The slavers had obviously won the struggle but had chosen to leave the bodies of their fallen there where they fell. The smells of that battle, now warmed by the morning sun, forced him to regret his breakfast, but he continued until Merle led him to where Olwena lay. She had rolled onto her back and her eyes wide open, gazing up into the clear skies above.
Leon lay the body of the griffin cub down next to her and folded her stiff arms, Blade in hand, over her still chest. He sent a request through the Blade, asking Ahab to stay and guard them both from the winged opportunists nearby while he went on to search for Rezz with Merle.
Merle spent an hour sniffing the battlefield while Leon searched the area he thought he had last seen him. Only, they never found the body! Hope surged.
Maybe he made it?
When he returned, he dug a large grave for his two fallen companions, right there in that grassy field. He used his Blade to break the earth and his hands to carve away the dark soil. Deeper and deeper he dug. The work exhausted him and the cool breeze from the day before had mostly died away with the storm. Still, though, something about the hard work and the sweat it cost him, gave him a release of sorts. He was proud to be able to do this last service for both of them.
A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One Page 25
