Blood Vengeance

by Dan Mat

  “Where are they?” Mourdac whispered.

  “In the treetops, some fifty yards farther.” Elonthier retorted.

  “Spread out.” Mourdac waved “Be quiet.”

  Hunters set their bows aside, exchanging them for the slingshots or blowpipes. Zaanven knew why. It was much easier to hit the target hidden in the treetop with the significantly smaller projectiles. But that didn’t worry him. His longbow and arrows were the labor of the best elven artisans. Precisely carved and shaped to perfection, so they weighed almost the same as those small Pamen darts.

  Zaanven found an empty and lone spot, from which he had the clear line of sight to at least a dozen of trees. They were all over hundred feet tall. All trying to reach their place under the sun, in a constant, neverending struggle for life. Higher up, there was a completely different world, than that on the ground. Numerous, intertwined branches, created the roads for all the animals and creatures living in the treetops. Many of them never even left their safety. Some didn’t even know, there was something else beside these green giants. The trees provided them with everything, they had no reason to leave.

  Enepel knew he’ll surely see other animals, beside those birds they followed here. Perhaps some lizards and snakes, and probably some monkeys. He also knew he wouldn’t think twice before shooting any of them. Here, you couldn’t pick and choose what to eat. Although, he’d rather eat some bird meat. Elf saw one solitary quetzal, standing on the branch, some fifty feet above him, and to the left. The bird was cleaning its feathers, still unaware of the danger. It was obviously satiated, after a good hunt. Unaware it will become a prey at any given moment.

  Zaanven took a careful aim, held his breath and released the arrow. Three seconds later, he heard the bird’s dead body falling on the soft ground, underneath the branch it stood on. Elf immediately pulled the second arrow, as another quetzal hopped onto the same branch. On the exact same spot the first one was standing. And that bird ended the same. Dead, on the ground.

  Enepel looked further up the tree, spotting a beautiful, colorful and quite large parrot. Seemingly preoccupied with prying open some sort of nut, it didn’t even register the deaths of those two birds, just several feet below. Parrots sole concern was to crack that hard, outer shell and reach the sweet, delicious insides. And when the death inevitably came, just a couple of moments later, enjoying that tasty treat was the last mistake this bird ever did.

  In only five minutes, Zaanven fired the entirety of his quiver. Not missing a single shot. And it took him another five, to locate and pick up the catch. He then carefully removed and cleaned the arrows, placing them back in the quiver. There was no point in staying here anymore. By now, he probably scared every animal in the surrounding area. And with his basket almost completely full, hunt was practically over for him. Because of that, he decided to went back, and meet with the hunting group.

  Enepel found the halflings some hundred yards farther, sitting by the side of a narrow, miry pathway. There was four of them, and just like elf, they too had finished the hunt. Contents of their baskets witnessed to that. In a casual, silent chatter, they waited for others to return. And several minutes later, they did.

  “I see nothing has changed.” Zaanven smiled “Mourdac is arriving last as usual.”

  “Where’s the rush, Aduin?” chieftain retorted, placing his basket on the ground beside the rest “Are you that eager to lose?”

  “I think I’ve caught just enough.” Zaanven pointed at his basket.

  “Not bad.” Mourdac sounded a bit concerned, despite trying to hide it “How much exactly?”

  “Thirty one.” Zaanven said.

  “Hah!” Mourdac exclaimed “I got thirty three!”

  “No way.” Enepel glanced at chieftain’s catch “My aim was true.”

  “Well obviously not as good as mine.” Mourdac laughed “Better luck next time.”

  “Perhaps I am a bit rusty.” Enepel looked at his bow.

  “Any more excuses?” Mourdac grinned “If not, here’s my basket.”

  Zaanven took it without a complaint. Accepting this punishment with a smile on his face. Loss meant he had to carry Mourdac’s spoil. And yet strangely, he didn’t mind that at all.

  “Pack everything.” Mourdac said, as he let Elonthier take the lead “We are heading back to the village.”

  One by one, hunters went after their scout, following him through the thicket and onto a barely visible path, that appeared after some fifty odd yards. Mourdac waited for everyone to go, joining the elf at the back.

  “You let me win.” Mourdac whispered.

  Zaanven smiled.

  “Did you?” Mourdac asked.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Ghoulish, bone-chilling, threatening screams, that shook the entire field, faded when the first salve of short, sharp spears, splashed the ground around the group of vards. Then another yell came from across the field, commanding the savages to charge. And they closed in fast, leaving vards with limited maneuvering options. There was no time for the retreat, they had to take them head on.

  “Spread out.” Vlaazh said calmly “Set your shields on reserve and turn on your comunicators.”

  “Can we use our weapons?” Vagyr asked.

  “Only melee.” Vlaazh retorted.

  “That’s a shame.” Vagyr said “I wanted to try my newest cells.”

  “What’s the matter boy? Are you afraid of facing a couple of wildlings?” Dradis Tarvvas, corpulent, over ten feet tall vard, laughed wholeheartedly.

  “Stay safe. Don’t make any unnecessary risks.” Vlaazh said “Ask for help, if needed.”

  Plasma daggers appeared in his hands, as he turned towards the nearest savage. Short, bluish bursts of light flashed once Vlaazh’s blades made the contact with the skin. He plunged the daggers deep inside the abdomen of the wildling, pausing for a moment. Waiting until their energy completely incinerated cannibal’s insides. Vlaazh was a bit sluggish, perhaps reckless even, allowing another savage to draw near far too close.

  Horrendous, roughly crafted, serrated blade, whizzed beside him. Just a couple of inches to the left and it would probably split his head wide open. But Vlaazh had no time to ponder upon it, for wildling lunged yet again. Only now, vard commander was ready for him. He took a step aside, anticipating the swing, waiting for the perfect opportunity to counter. And it came a few moments later, as cannibal completely exposed his side. And Vlaazh wasted no time, fiercely thrusting his dagger right below the armpit. Tearing the skin and the flesh in process. Piercing the ribcage with ease. Aiming straight for the heart. Wildling gasped in pain, but Vlaazh wouldn’t let him say anything else, slicing his throat with the other blade.

  In the meantime, Vagyr Zharn easily dealt with one of the savages, almost cutting his head clean off. But as soon as he turned around, he found himself facing another two of these hideous, repulsive creatures. Scout loathed them. He was disgusted by their ways of life. He could never understand them. What trouble, what misfortune, drove them to venture on this awful path? Why did they decided to turn to cannibalism, when there was abundance of food and resources in this region? Was it some mental disorder? Or perhaps some illness. Maybe there was something in the water? Or in the air. Where they too in danger of becoming infected?

  Vagyr begin to panic, barely deflecting the attack. Wildlings pounced on him from both sides, aiming at his neck with everything they had. With their blades, and their claws and with teeth. Vagyr had to break their momentum. And he managed to do so, by pushing and kicking one of them away. Wildling fell hard onto his back, hitting his head in process. Leaving him dazed and motionless. And it also startled the other one, interrupting his attack.

  Plasma dagger flashed two times, as Vagyr seized the opportunity by jabbing the blade deep into the cannibal’s abdomen. Savage shrieked in pain as his eyes rolled backwards. His whole body twitched and curled. The smoke came gushing out of his mouth, as his intestines turn to char. The sig
ht of this appalled Vagyr, to the point he momentarily forgot about the seconds wildling. Serrated, rusty hatchet, came from the side, through his blindspot, striking him just below the shoulder. Fortunately, his force shield did its job, absorbing most of the damage. Without it, Vagyr would surely lost his arm.

  Savage stopped for a brief moment, out of wonder and awe. Trying to figure out, how come his hatchet bounced off this man. How was this even possible? He swung with full force. It should’ve split him in half. And yet, he stood there as if nothing had happened. As if he was not an ordinary man. But what was he? Cannibal never had a chance of finding that out. His confusion lasted a second too long. A second in which Vagyr took his life.

  But scout moved a lot slower than his companions. He was always a few steps behind the formation. It might not seemed much, but the gap could prove to be disastrous. With their numerical advantage, wildlings might exploit this mistake. They could break the line and surround them. Andy by doing so, they could proceed to split their ranks and then pick out, one by one.

  Fortunately for vards, Dradis Tarvvas noticed the scout’s blunder. And despite fighting with three wildlings, he managed to cover the gap. By doing so, he kept the formation safe. His blades were twice the size, than the regular plasma daggers other wielded. They appeared more like swords. But in his large hands, they fit perfectly.

  In two violent swings Dradis cut one of the cannibals in half. At the same time, he managed to parry the second. Third tried to surprise him by jumping his back. But vard warrior enforcer was prepared for anything. He spun around, extending his arm in one violent, yet elegant swing. Plasma sword went through cannibal’s neck with ease, cutting his head clean off.

  Dradis used the momentum of the shift, continuing his attack without breaking a stride. He pushed and then kicked the remaining savage’s chest, with full force of his muscular leg. Distinct, loud cracking sound ment only one thing, vard broke the wildling’s ribs. And by his desperate attempts to catch the breath, it was obvious that bone fragments pierced and tore cannibal’s lungs. By now, wildling was regreting the decision of rushing into this fight, or even staying in it. But it was far too late for him, to try and escape. Moments later, Dradis sliced his throat.

  Vagyr eventually caught up with the rest of the formation. Which was in no small part contributed by the fact that wildlings resistance begin to cease. Quite understandable, seeing there were over thirty of them lying dead on the ground by now. Vards decimated them in less than a couple of minutes. And not a single one of them was hurt.

  “Push them towards the village!” Vlaazh ordered.

  “Don’t let them escape!” Dradis yelled.

  “What?” Vagyr asked “How?”

  “Kill ‘em, you bloody girl.” Dradis growled, as he simultaneously decapitated one of the savages.

  In no time, vards pushed wildlings to the middle of the field. Furthermore, they managed to completely surround them. And by doing so, they managed to cut every escape route. That eventually became apparent to wildlings, as more and more of them tried and failed to break free. But still, they wouldn’t give in. They continued fighting, until some ten minutes later, the last of them fell dead on the ground.

  “Search the huts.” Vlaazh commanded “Make haste.”

  “What are we to do with the bodies?” Vagyr asked.

  “Dispose of them.” Vlazh retorted “Leave no traces of our presence.”

  “Understood.” Vagyr nodded, as he approached the nearest corpse.

  Out of small, slick pouch, scout took a vial filled with thick, bright red liquid. He kneeled down, carefully placing a couple of drops on the cannibal’s body. Liquid sizzled, as it begin to spread across, eating away the skin and flesh and bones. It dissolved the entire body, even before Vagyr approached the second one. Not that he wasted any time. He moved among them as fast as he could. And he kept skipping in between the bodies, until there wasn’t a single one to see.

  Just under five minutes later, vards were back on the move, leaving the empty field behind. This sudden, unpleasant encounter with the wildlings wasn’t much troublesome, in the end. But it came, perhaps, at a perfect time. To serve as a warning of what could’ve happen if they proceed with being imprudent. The next encounter might not end in the same fashion. Their fortune might change. Next time, they might stumble upon much larger settlement. And now as they were about to split, a similar lapse could prove to be costly.

  “Be careful.” Vlaazh said, once they reached the lake shore.

  “Certainly commander.” Vagyr answered.

  “Avoid any contact from now on.” Vlaazh said.

  “Yes sir.” Vagyr nodded.

  “And good luck.” Vlaazh said.

  “Likewise.” Vagyr retorted.

  “And don’t forget to send daily reports.” Vlaazh remembered, as he turned towards east.

  “I won’t.” Vagyr answered, as he went in the opposite direction.

  Vlaazh looked once more at the soldiers he send the other way. For the past several minutes, he contemplated of changing his decision. He was more reluctant to split up, after the encounter with the cannibalistic tribe. But he had to believe in the capability of his soldiers. After all, they were vards. They were far superior to everyone. They were the ones everyone else should fear in this jungle.

  CHAPTER 21

  Fourty yards wide, dark cave, covered in soft, fungus carpet, forked into two corridors of the same size. First tunnel ended after just a couple of bends. But the second one outstretched much farther than Roshnak presumed. So far shaman had no luck in finding the entrance to the mine, but he felt that would soon change. And with the young scout searching on the other side of this enormous, underground complex, their chances for success were doubled.

  Seven days had passed since the shaman and scout descended into these caves. And despite circling through almost all of them, they still couldn’t find any signs of human presence. If there was a passageway leading into the Gollvin mine, somewhere around here, it was well hidden. So far, it seemed, the miners never set foot inside these caves. For there was no trace of their presence.

  Wide, spacious, damp tunnel, led deeper and deeper under the mountain, for almost a mile. Roshnak walked in complete darkness. He was well aware that even the smallest of sparks, would shine as a sun in this place. But he needn’t to lighting the torche. Shaman has imbued his eyes with a spell. One of those he learned a long time ago, when he was gifted with the ancient power of the stars. The spell that gave him the ability to adjust his eyesight to any and all surroundings. To him, this dark cave was bright and clear as if he was back on the surface, in the middle of the day.

  Tunnel suddenly widened, leading Roshnak into a spacious, oval shaped cavern. It had to be over three hundred yards long, with the ceiling reaching up to thirty feet. Seemingly much lower than it actually was, because of a particular shape of the cave. At first, Roshnak thought he once again found himself at a dead end. But then, he noticed a several openings on the opposite wall. And these appear somewhat different than the rest. Shaman soon realized why, as he approached for a closer examination.

  Piles of stones and rocks completely blocked the passage. And yet, Roshnak couldn’t see any signs of collapse. It seemed the rocks were placed there on purpose. For what reason he did not know, nor he particularly cared right now. He found the abandoned mineshaft, there was no doubt about it. Sturdy, thick, wooden beams protruding from the rubble confirmed so.

  Roshnak wasted no time, immediately rushing back to that exact same cave in which he descended a week ago, alongside with scout Waghein. A week in which they searched through every passage, tunnel and cavern. Peeped into every orifice, gape, hole and pit. And yet, despite all of the trouble, they couldn’t find any traces of the human mine. Until now.

  The relief of the discovery made Roshnak uncharacteristically unwary and impatient, as he rushed back to meet with Waghein. In a single brief moment, shaman let his guard down, almost throwing the cautio
n to the wind. A single, brief moment, which almost cost him dearly. Roshnak hastily traversed several tunnels, and was almost half way through a hundred yards long cavern, when he caught a glimpse of a strange movement, just to the left of him.

  It was nothing more than a flicker. A shadow play on the wall. So trifling, that at first Roshnak thought, it was just a figment of his imagination. But then he saw it again. Only this time, it looked as the entire wall was moving. The entire stone seemingly turn to liquid, as it rippled and ruffled in erratic, irregular patterns. It took Roshnak several seconds, before he realized what’s in front of him. And it send cold shivers down his spine. The mere sight of a hundred, six foot long centipedes crawling around, could leave an ordinary individual trembling in fear. An easy prey for such a formidable beasts. Fortunately for shaman, there was nothing ordinary about him.

  By exploring this cave, he must’ve attracted these creatures. The vibrations of his footsteps surely traveled all the way to their lair. It was shaman that brought them up. And once firmly on the track, centipedes wouldn’t let the prey to escape. Roshnak suddenly came to realize, why the mineshaft was filled with piles of rocks.

  Humans probably came in contact with these creatures. And judging by the means in which they barricaded the shaft, those encounters didn’t go as well as planed. What’s more, it seemed they’ve caused humans quite the trouble, prompting them to close that particular tunnel. What sort of trouble, exactly, Roshnak was about to find out, because one of the creatures slid from the wall.

  Centipede charged straight towards him, swaying that long, slick body, as it glided across the floor. Loud patter of its numerous legs echoed throughout the chamber, sending the horrifying warning sounds of impending attack. And it was overpowered only by the bone chilling shriek, the centipede suddenly let, as it stopped some ten yards away from the shaman. The creature pranced, standing upwards to four feet in hight. Its flattened head begin to waggle from left ot right, in an instinctive attempt to confuse, or perhaps even to try and intimidate the prey. And then, all of a sudden, centipede lunged at shaman.