by R C Gray
Shaking his head and clenching his teeth, Skara followed Faine as they moved down the wall, pausing when they heard orders being shouted from the front of the building.
“Dalkuk is dead, and the elf’s room is empty. Go back to wait at the camp for the brothers and tell them what happened.”
“And what about the elf? He has to be around here somewhere.”
“I’ll find him. And I’ll have his head for what he’s done. Go, and I’ll meet you back at camp soon.”
Keeping their backs against the wall, the two moved to the back corner of the building, peering around the corner and watching as an armored man ran down the road, intent on getting to the camp as fast as possible. Taking one last glance around the corner, the two ran quietly along the backside of the inn, moving from one building to the next. Keeping low behind bushes and piles of broken crates, they made their way towards the front gate, hoping they could hide in the crowds of people looking at the goods the merchants had brought in on their wagons.
“There’s the gate,” Skara said, pointing out across the crowds towards the high stone archway.
“Move into the crowd and head for it, but don’t run. If you run, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”
“I’ll already do that!” Skara said, “I’m the only goblin here.”
“Fair point,” Faine said, looking around the corner for the armored man. “Let’s move. Oh, and Skara,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “try and blend in.”
Skara tugged his shoulder away and glanced into the crowds before stepping in, dodging between people as he went. Moving around a merchant cart, he could see numerous glass bottles set out in rows across narrow shelves built into its side. Hinged doors, painted green and blue, were thrown open to reveal bunches of dried herbs that hung in the spaces between the shelves.
“Ah, you look like someone who knows what to look for. What can I get for you today?” the merchant said, looking at Faine. “Some blackroot, maybe? Or perhaps some bitter vine, or some sweet cane to chew on while you’re on the road?”
Skara looked at all the bottles and back at the merchant. “I’ll take some sweet cane and a pouch of broadleaf.”
“This isn’t the time, Skara,” Faine said, looking nervously around the crowd.
“For you, I’ll need to get the coin first,” the merchant said, scowling as he took the handful of coppers, setting them on a shelf as if they were dirty before handing over the herbs.
Putting the herbs into his pouches, Skara turned and started to nudge his way through the crowd.
“Skara, is that you?” a woman’s voice called from behind him.
“You’ve gotta be joking,” Faine said, glaring down at Skara.
Turning around, Skara saw Mary, the owner of the Greencap strolling up to him. Her green dress and black cloak waving behind her as she pushed through the crowd. Her long brown hair, fixed in a single, braid bobbed and swayed over her vibrant red bodice, reaching nearly to her waist. She held a small bag that looked to be stuffed with bright yellow fabric and sweets, and her face wore a smile as she approached. “Out for a bit of shopping today, are ya? Did ya find anything good?”
“A few things,” Skara said, looking around the woman several times. “I see you found something.”
“I did,” Mary said, looking quite pleased with herself. “You know that yellow is my favorite. There’s just something about it that brightens my day.”
Skara nodded as he looked up at Mary. “I stopped by your shop today and picked up a few things.”
“Met the new help, did ya? She’s a good worker, but she gets a bit on edge sometimes. But what’re ya to do?”
Skara looked at Mary and peered around her again, his eyes darting over the people in the crowd. “I need to be going, but I’ll bring you a few mushrooms next I time I come through.”
“A few greencaps?” Mary said, raising her eyebrows.
“As many as I can find.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it. And I should have some new stock for ya to look at when you stop by. I have a new shipment coming in soon. You take care of yourself out there, and don’t wait so long to come by next time.” Mary smiled and gave a slight nod as she turned, walking briskly through the crowd over to the next wagon.
Faine shook his head, giving Skara a slight push towards the gate as he glanced around the crowd, ducking his head as he spotted one of the men searching for them.
“You there, stop!” a voice shouted above the crowd.
Nearly everyone in the crowd stopped and looked at the armored men running down the road, one with his finger pointed in the direction of Skara and Faine. Each man wore black brigandine armor and carried a short sword and a footman’s hammer at their side. Their heavy boots thudded against the hard-packed dirt and cobbles as they ran, pushing small groups of cowering onlookers out of the way, quickly closing the gap between them.
Skara and Faine bolted out of the front gate, running hard down the long dirt road towards the woodline. Slowing to wait for Skara, the two climbed the small hill into the field that led into the forest and stopped to catch their breath. Looking down the hill behind them, they could see the two men still running down the road, their weapons drawn and their faces red with exertion.
Taking deep breaths, Skara and Faine jogged into the forest, breathing hard as they pushed themselves on.
“I don’t know how much farther I can go,” Skara said, wheezing and kneeling on the ground.
“We’re almost to Renna,” Faine said, his hands on his knees.
“And then what?”
Faine shrugged. “Three against two.”
Skara closed his eyes, breathing deep and wondering why he had let himself get wrapped up in all this in the first place. If he had decided to stay out of the cave that day, none of this would have happened. But, then again, Faine would have died, he would never have met Renna, and he would still be living alone, doing the same routine, just like he had been for years. He didn’t know if this was better or worse, but it was definitely more interesting than another day carving runes or boiling water to drink.
Looking up at Faine, Skara held a finger to his lips and motioned for him to hide. Turning his head slightly, he could hear the soft crinkle of leaves somewhere behind them. “We have to move,” he said, motioning over his shoulder.
Pushing himself up from the ground, he looked through the trees and saw the two men forcing their way through the underbrush, stabbing their swords into any bush big enough for someone to be hiding in.
“I don’t think we’ll make it,” Faine said, pulling out his sword and a throwing knife from his boot. In fact, I think we can take ‘em.”
Skara’s eyes went wide. “Are you crazy? They’re wearing armor.”
“There’s two of them, and two of us. You just about pulled your knife on Dalkuk, but you don’t want to fight these two? You just have to be creative and play to your strengths. If you wanted some adventure, this is it.”
Skara shook his head and pulled one of his daggers. He didn’t want to be in this situation, but he was. He could either run, taking the chance that someone follows him home, or deal with the problem now. “You’re right. Not much choice. Let’s go,” he said, crouching low and darting off around a big rock and out of sight.
“Didn’t think that’d be so easy,” Faine said, gripping his sword and moving in the opposite direction.
Stepping slowly over the leaves, Faine watched as one of the men stabbed and swung his sword wildly at the dense bushes, moving farther away from his companion as he searched. When he could barely see the second man through the trees, Faine stood and stepped out from behind the stump he had been hiding behind. “It was a mistake for you to come out here. You should have stayed back in town and cleaned up the mess at the inn.
Startled, the man turned to face Faine, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. “It was a mistake for you to kill any of the Crimson Sword. And I’ll have your head f
or it,” he said, charging towards Faine with his sword raised above his head.
“Too easy,” Faine muttered to himself, quickly flipping his throwing knife over in his hand before sending it flying towards the man. The blade flew end over end, spinning in the air before smashing into the man’s chest, hilt first, before falling harmlessly to the ground.
“Well, shit...” Faine said, frowning and bracing himself.
Stepping back with his left leg, he held his sword out in front of him, keeping it close to his body to guard his face and torso. The man, never slowing his charge, swung down hard, trying to push Faine back with the heavy blow. Parrying the man’s blade and sidestepping to his left, Faine dropped to the ground, kicking out his right leg to trip the running man.
Falling hard onto the ground, the man’s momentum carried him forward, plunging him face-first onto the fallen leaves. Faine stood still, keeping his sword outstretched in front of him as the man climbed back to his feet and quickly wheeled around. Drawing his hammer, he once again charged, running full speed at the elf, hoping to knock him to the ground with sheer force.
Clenching his jaw, Faine set off in a run at the armored man, his sword raised above his head, ready to strike. Just before the two men collided, Faine dove to the ground directly in front of the man’s feet, causing him to trip and fall hard to the ground once again. Rising almost as soon as he fell, the armored man turned and swung wildly at Faine with his sword and hammer, fury overtaking caution.
Struggling to fend off the wild swings, Faine dodged and parried as he was pushed backwards. Keeping an eye on his footing, he stepped around the rocks in his path and used tree trunks to block the man’s furious attacks, hoping he would be slowed by roots or downed branches. Only finding occasional openings, Faine struck out with his sword, only to slash at armor, or have his blade parried by the man’s sword, followed by a swing of the hammer towards his head. The two men swung high and low, looking for any opening and fighting with everything they had; each knowing that one of them wouldn’t make it out of the forest alive.
SKARA HEARD THE RING of the weapons as he watched the second man rush towards the sound of battle. In the distance, he could see Faine blocking attacks and striking out, his silver-bladed sword slashing quickly, trying to find an opening. Creeping, Skara positioned himself behind a boulder that stood directly in line with the second man.
Angry at Faine for getting him into this mess, he briefly considered letting the man pass him by and watch the elf fend for himself; but it was a brief thought, and he quickly pushed it out of his head. Even if he did drag him into this, it wasn’t entirely his fault. He could have easily gone out the window at the inn instead of going downstairs, but he didn’t. And he didn’t save him from the spiders just to let him be killed now. It’s like Faine told him earlier — they were both tied to each other, whether he wanted to admit or not.
Holding one of his daggers close to his chest, he leaned back against the rock and listened for the man’s footsteps as they quickly approached. Pulling out a handful of herbs out of his pouch, he ground them as best he could in his palm and held them tightly. Just as the man started to run by, Skara leapt out from behind the rocks, slashing at the man’s leg with his blade.
The man, startled and in pain, dropped to one knee and clutched the wound on the back of his thigh. Turning his head quickly to scan the forest, the man couldn’t see any movement nearby. He could hear his friend shouting curses and the ring of swords echoing off the tall stones nearby, but nothing moved around him.
Skara watched as the man looked around in confusion, a look of worry growing on his face as he watched the blood pushing up between his fingers as he held his wound.
Moving out from behind a fallen tree, Skara crept quietly towards the man as he struggled to get to his feet. Just as the man stabbed his sword into the ground to help him rise, Skara darted in front of him, blowing the crushed herbs into his face. Coughing and rubbing his palms over his face, the man could feel the dried herbs clinging to the moisture in his eyes, stinging and scratching them.
Blinking hard, his eyes began to water, and the woods around him became blurry. The crisp colors of the leaves turned into globs of brown, and everything faded together, like looking through a window covered in a layer of oil. The man could see a small, dark shape moving around him as he held up his sword, his breathing hard and his eyes wide. In the distance, the sounds of fighting had stopped, leaving only silence in the woods around him as he climbed to his feet.
“Put down your sword,” Skara said, drawing his second dagger.
“I’ll not stand here and let you kill me like you killed the others,” the man said as he tried to focus on the blurred figure in front of him.
“You can’t change that they’re dead, but you can choose to drop your weapon and make it out of here alive,” Skara said, his hands tightening on the hilts of his black daggers. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”
“I think it does, you little demon! I don’t need to be able to see you clearly to know that you’re a monster. By the light, one of these days all you Fallen will be put back into the ground with the defiler where you belong. And it’s already begun,” the man said as he pulled back his sword and lunged at Skara.
Sliding sideways to avoid the thrust, Skara rolled forward between the man’s legs and slashed open his other calf. Warm blood poured down his leg as he screamed pain and swung his sword around behind him, narrowly missing Skara’s chest.
“Skara, move!” Faine said, running through the woods towards him, waving his arms frantically.
Just as Skara turned his head, he saw a large, grey wolf running in his direction, its bone and muscle visible through patches of torn fur. Diving quickly out of the way, the wolf jumped over Skara and onto the man, knocking him to the ground as his fangs sank deep into his neck. Undriel whipped his head as the man’s hands punched feebly at the wolf. Gargled moans pushed through spatters of blood spewing from the man’s lips as he fought for air, trying to cry out for anyone to help him. Undriel, giving one last pull, tore away the man’s throat, leaving a red, gaping hole below the man’s chin. The man shuddered as his arms went limp and fell to his sides, his eyes glassy as he stared off into the dull grey sky above.
“Are you two alright?” Renna said, running up to stand beside Skara.
“I’m alright. Although I can’t say the same for these two,” Faine said as he gestured to the man on the ground in front of him and the other man lying dead a few hundred yards away.
“What about you, Skara,” Renna said, looking down at the goblin.
“I’m fine. But no thanks to you,” Skara said, looking up at Faine. “What were you thinking, poisoning the men in the tavern? You could’ve picked a better spot to do it than around all those people. We could have been killed!” Shaking his head, he shoved his daggers back into their sheaths, an angry look crossing his sharp features. “It was in the wine, wasn’t it? That means you poisoned me too. How else would you have been able to poison everyone there?”
“You’re right, it was in the wine. But that tea you had before we left for town was the antidote. And remember, I drank the wine too. I wouldn’t have done it if we could’ve been poisoned. And I seem to remember you stopping to have a chat with Mary and the merchant when we were trying to leave. We may have been able to make it out before anyone saw us if not for that.”
“We wouldn’t have had to run if you hadn’t poisoned everyone. And I needed some supplies. Not everyone has everything on hand when they need it, or the ease to walk into any town to get it. And Mary sells me things that no one else carries.” Skara looked down at the man’s body on the ground in front of him, watching the red bubbles gathering around the hole in man’s throat. “And she doesn’t treat me like the monster most people think I am.”
Faine scratched his eyebrows as he looked at Skara. “Look, it’s over now. But we can’t stay here anymore. They sent a runner to tell the others on their way he
re about what happened. We have to leave before there’re a lot more people out here chasing us.”
“No, you have to leave. It may not be safe for now, but I have a home out here, and I’m going back to it. I have a life here, and I can wait it out. It may not be the best one, but it’s a life that won’t always put me in danger of getting stabbed. Maybe some of us just aren’t meant for more.” Turning on his heels, Skara kicked a branch out of his way and began walking away through the woods, heading deeper into the forest.
“Skara, wait. This doesn’t have to be it for you,” Faine said, watching him walk off through the woods. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked over at Renna. “Now what?”
“He’s right. It’s not safe here. This is what happens when you get ahead of yourself, Faine.”
“They would have killed us. You knew that me giving them the poisoned wine was a possibility. That’s why you gave us the tea. I know I moved too fast, but what else was I supposed to do, let them cut off my finger and take me into the streets and beat me nearly to death? And then what, let them kill Skara or come after you out here? No, none of those options worked for me. I made a choice, and I stand by it,” Faine said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a nearby tree, a scowl growing on his face.
“And I’m not saying you made the wrong one. People die, and I’d rather it be someone else than us. But even with the trouble this may have caused, we can’t leave yet. There’s a problem coming that we need to take care of.”
“What kind of problem?”
“A prisoner on his way here in a cage. Undriel saw him with a group of mercenaries bringing him here. They looked like Brothers of the Flame.”
“Brothers of the Flame,” Faine said, rubbing his chin. “Ya know, Skara mentioned somethin’ about them when we were in town. Well, not really mentioned. It was more of a scowl when he saw their emblem hanging up in a shop there.”
“They wouldn’t be carrying a prisoner all this way for nothing. It might have something to do with the letter you found a couple towns back. They’re guarding him for some reason. I feel like the dwarf has a part to play in all of this, and I mean to break him out of his chains.”
