by Sam Bowring
‘How?’ asked Bel suspiciously.
By warning you of danger. I can tell you what is around you. If there was a man hiding around a corner waiting to do you harm, I could tell you. And it works just the same with huggers in trees.
‘Forgive me, oh disembodied voice,’ said Bel, ‘but this all sounds a bit strange.’
Yet you take it in your stride, said Iassia. Because you’ve always known, haven’t you, that you are special? An extraordinary man, Bel, will likely lead an extraordinary life.
Again he felt that powerful ego, like a huge muscle flexing. Bel wanted to believe, and Iassia was winning him over.
Even now, when a lesser man would run shrieking from the room, you are not fazed.
‘Oh, I’m very fazed, believe me,’ said Bel. ‘I just can’t decide if you exist or not. But whether I’m mad or you’re telling the truth, running isn’t going to do me much good, is it?’
I suppose not.
‘If you were sent by Arkus as you say, why have I been hearing you all day yet you only address me clearly when I demand it of you?’
Iassia faltered. It was a good question.
I had to wait until we were alone. If I’d announced myself sooner, your comrades would have wondered why you were talking to yourself.
‘I see.’ Bel considered this, and it seemed to make sense to him. ‘My tutor was the High Mage,’ he continued. ‘He taught me much about the stranger creatures of the world. And while he said nothing of Arkus-granted ghosts, he did mention something of trickster entities who cannot always be seen.’
Ah, yes. That is a valid concern. Let me promise you this, then: I will never do anything without your permission or against your will. I won’t suggest courses of action; only help you in those endeavours you choose to undertake. If ever you ask me to leave, I shall. It was a bit of a gamble, but Iassia knew he had no choice. Would a trickster make such promises?
‘If he was being a trickster,’ said Bel.
Would you have me leave, then?
‘No,’ Bel said quickly. ‘Well . . . not yet. I must –’
There was a knock at the door. Keit opened it. ‘You coming?’ he said.
Bel glanced about the room as if undecided.
‘Oh, come now,’ said Keit. ‘You aren’t crawling off to bed early again, are you? You really think you’ll get any sleep before your first true bloodshed? Come and sit with us a while, at least.’
If we go to the tavern, I can prove my worth. Then you can decide whether or not to keep me.
‘Of course I’m coming,’ said Bel. ‘I just don’t know where I put my money pouch. Ah – here it is.’
•
Bel, Keit and Hunna sat in the tavern by the fireplace, with mugs in hand and cards on the table. It was an old place with a low roof, the stuffed heads of animals hanging on the walls. Despite the dancing firelight, the atmosphere was sombre. The townsfolk present had glanced at the soldiers when they’d entered, raised their glasses in silent salute, then gone back to their hushed discussions. The blades had expected to find some of the town’s soldiers here, but when Keit asked the barmaid where they were, she said they were either guarding or sleeping – there weren’t enough of them for time off. So they sat alone, Hunna dealing out cards, Bel distracted by his ethereal new companion.
You can speak to me in thought, Bel. I will hear you.
What’s your name?
Iassia.
So how are you going to “prove your worth”, Iassia?
I can tell you what cards your opponents are holding. It will then be your choice whether to win or lose against them.
All right, let’s try that.
For the next several hands, Iassia whispered the value of Keit’s and Hunna’s cards. Soon Bel had most of the copper in front of him.
‘Of all the luck!’ complained Hunna, pushing the last of his coins towards Bel. ‘Hope you’re as good with your sword as your cards!’
So Arkus has sent me a “good spirit” to help me cheat at cards? thought Bel.
Iassia chortled good-naturedly. Just a harmless example of greater powers, Blade Bel. Imagine being able to outstep real opponents with such help.
Iassia could sense that he’d succeeded. Bel had been groomed his whole life to believe he was special. Arrogance, vanity and ego combined to allow him to believe Iassia’s wild lies. If the situation had not been so dire, Iassia would have been impressed with himself.
‘Well,’ said Keit, ‘I think I’ve lost enough coin. And we should all make it an early night.’
The soldiers rose and made their way into the night. Somewhere nearby a shout went up, followed a ferocious snarl.
‘That way!’ said Keit. They ran towards the sounds, and as they neared the walls the shouting grew louder, accompanied by a sound like a monstrous cat. ‘Huggers!’ muttered Keit. ‘I’d recognise that sound anywhere.’
They rounded a corner and arrived at the wall. The commotion was coming from ground level, where Rokinin was pulling his bloodied sword from the breast of a horrid beast. A bow lay against the wall clutching a slash wound in his arm. From outside the wall came a screeching in the trees.
They do not intend further attack, came Iassia’s voice in Bel’s head. They are merely testing the town’s defences.
Soldiers on the platform above came running from both sides. Bows fired into the night, but there were no sounds of impact. The screeching died away.
‘They’re leaving,’ Rokinin said. ‘The leap from the tree line is too long for them now. Only this beast made it over the wall.’
That’s untrue, said Iassia. Many could have made the jump, but only one tried.
Rokinin kicked the dead creature savagely, snapping its face towards Bel. Bel felt a chill as he stared into its eyes – yellow with tiny black pupils, hateful in death. It was one thing to hear a monster described, quite another to see one in the flesh. The body was the size of a large dog, though its limbs were long and ape-like, with retractable claws extended from the pads of its hands and feet. It was covered in mossy brown-green fur, which grew longer about its head. Its mouth was wide and lipless, an almost invisible line in the fur, and there were no nostrils in evidence. It stank of wet hair.
‘I forgot how much I hate these filthy beasts,’ said Hunna, prodding the corpse with his sword.
Keit grunted. ‘Come on. There’s nothing more to do here. Let’s get some sleep.’
Twenty / Drel Forest
Twenty
Drel Forest
Drel Forest
All around, soldiers crept through the undergrowth of Drel Forest. Bel could only see a few of the others, despite how closely together the group was moving. The undergrowth was a verdant sprawl of ferns and shrubs, which shimmered here and there as someone knocked down a cascade of dew. To his left, Munpo disappeared around a mossy boulder at the base of a towering clawberry tree and Bel hurried to keep up. He had wanted to partner with Keit, but that morning Munpo had ordered him to stay close. He didn’t feel he needed to be babysat by the leader of the group, but orders were orders. He pushed through entwining vines and found Munpo speaking to Rokinin. Both had their eyes turned to the trees above.
‘Yes,’ muttered Rokinin. ‘We are close.’
Munpo gave a low whistle and Gredda materialised by his side. Munpo pointed through the trees. ‘We’ll make for that clearing,’ he said. Gredda nodded and disappeared again. Munpo glanced around to make sure Bel was following.
‘We’re headin’ for a clearing,’ he said in a low tone, ‘because we can assemble in collected force there, and watch each other’s backs. The bows will have better shots without trees in the way, and they can stay in the centre firing outwards while the blades protect them in an outer circle. If we are near the nest, as Rokinin suspects, they
should notice us here soon enough.’
Together they ducked beneath an overhanging branch covered in fungus.
‘I thought huggers preferred an ambush,’ said Bel.
‘They prefer an ambush if possible,’ said Munpo. ‘But we’ll be inside their perceived territory, so I reckon they’ll come howlin’ along pretty quick.’
Bel glanced around. No one else was close. Why was he getting this private explanation?
‘I’ll be all right, you know,’ he said, managing to disguise his irritation as bland reassurance. ‘I’ll understand your orders once the battle starts, just like the others.’
‘Good to know, laddy. That ain’t why I’m tellin’ you this.’ Munpo paused in the shadow of a fig and sniffed the air. Birds sang in the canopy, an opera of melodic calls. ‘If you’re to be a leader,’ he continued, ‘and Taskmaster Corlas assures me that the Throne is takin’ a personal interest in your military career, then the more you know the better. That’s why I asked you to dog my heels today. You might learn somethin’ about strategy and command. If you’d rather run off and play chasings with Keit, be my guest. Up to you.’
‘Apologies, sir,’ Bel said quickly. ‘Just thought I was being spoonfed there.’
‘You were,’ said Munpo. ‘It was just a bigger spoon than you thought.’
I sense an approach, came the voice of the spirit. Thrills went up and down Bel’s spine, every sense alert.
Where are they?
To the east. Still some distance, but they know we’re here and they are coming.
They arrived in the clearing, which had silently filled with soldiers. It was some fifteen paces wide, a mound of earth with stones peeping out of it like boils on a backside. From the centre outwards lay a fallen tree, its twisted roots exposed to the air. Above, branches from other trees were jealously vying to reclaim the gap left in the canopy.
Quietly Gredda spread the order that the blades were to stand in a circle around the bows, some of whom climbed up onto the log. Questing eyes went back and forth across the busy greenery. They’d barely got into position when Bel noticed that the birds had gone quiet.
They’re close.
‘They’re close,’ called Munpo. ‘Be ready, soldiers! No need to be too quiet now,’ he added to Bel, who stood next to him. ‘Noise will draw them to us.’
In the upper reaches of the trees were plenty of shaded hiding spots. As the leaves moved in the breeze, roving patterns of light gave the illusion of movement. Taut bows swivelled to a rustling in the trees, but it was just a bird flying away. Bel turned his sword in his hands, waiting for the moment that was sure to come soon. His skin tingled with excitement and suddenly he knew with certainty – this was what he’d been born to do. He was a warrior. The truth of it shot through him, concentrating molten in his heart. Shaking himself, he told himself not to forget the danger, as Munpo had warned, but as he sensed the eyes of the enemy on him, he found it very difficult to keep a fierce grin from his face.
They’re here.
Where?
All around.
I see nothing.
Look left. The palebark tree at the edge of the clearing. Halfway up.
Bel searched, his gaze falling on a spray of foliage in which yellow eyes glinted. ‘There!’ he said, pointing. ‘In the palebark!’
The bows looked but did not spy the target. Impatiently, almost eagerly, Bel pulled a crossbow from his belt and loosed a bolt. There was a thunk in the shadows and a furry body fell from the tree trailing gangly limbs, to land somewhere outside the clearing. Bel notched another bolt in the crossbow.
A sound like cats in pain filled the air from all sides and the forest came alive. Shadows gave birth to snarling offspring. Growths of moss on trees became the hairy backs of monsters. Huggers ran out onto branches overhanging the clearing and dropped, their limbs stretched in oncoming embrace. Arrows whizzed upwards and beasts twisted in the air, screaming as their brown blood rained down. One fell past the wave of arrows and landed on a bow. The creature wrapped its limbs about her and gave a mighty squeeze. There came the sound of ribs snapping and the beast sprang away as she toppled, vomiting blood. Hunna thrust his sword towards it, punching into the creature’s gut.
‘Stand fast!’ bellowed Munpo as more huggers bounded out of the undergrowth and swung through the lower branches. They were attacking on all levels, from all sides. ‘Let them come to us! Don’t break the circle!’
Bel found himself facing two of them on the ground, their baleful yellow eyes staring out from under tufts of brown-green fur, their wide mouths open to reveal rows of stubby little fangs. They prowled towards him, low to the ground.
The bigger one will leap first.
A moment later the larger creature sprang, a schick sounding as claws extended from its hands and feet. Bel slashed it to the ground, spilling its guts as the second creature darted in to swipe at his legs. Claws scraped the hard leather of his boots and it raised its head to snarl. There was a flash of metal about its neck and the head rolled away with snarl fixed forever. Munpo glanced at Bel, nodded, then called again for the blades to keep formation and protect the bows in the centre. Despite his shouts, the circle was breaking.
See the big male?
For a moment Bel saw it, stalking past a tree at the edge of the clearing, at least twice the size of the others. He pulled the crossbow free of his belt.
Watch out to your left!
Bel ignored the spirit’s cry and went to squeeze the crossbow trigger. A hugger crashed against his shoulder, knocking the crossbow from his hand and pinning his sword arm to his side as it encircled his torso with its grip. He staggered backwards as the creature gnashed at him, its foetid breath making him gag. As he gagged, the hugger tightened its grip, forcing the air out of his lungs. Bel strained under the furry embrace and the creature snarled in rage as he started to loosen its grip. It threw back its head and howled, hugging with all its might, and Bel felt a sickening pressure on his chest.
Come on, man! Use your free hand!
Bel punched wildly at the hugger, bruising his hands on its muscular body. He tried to suck in breath and failed, unable to open his lungs wide enough. His vision dotted and the world swam. His free hand flailed, searching for the creature’s neck, and found it. All his strength went into a squeeze of his own. The hugger’s howl cut off abruptly as he crushed its windpipe, its eyes bulging as the light behind them went out. It dropped away limply, leaving Bel coughing and gasping as air gushed back into him.
The faintness passed quickly and he felt even stronger for the adrenaline hit. He bellowed and ran at three huggers who were bounding for a bow, swinging his sword about him with gathering momentum. He flew through the huggers like a metal wind, their screams filling the air along with their blood. One managed to begin a leap at the bow, but jerked backwards suddenly as Bel caught it by the leg and swung it around like a sack of potatoes to dash its brains out on a rock. Next to it, a wounded hugger opened its eyes just in time to see Bel’s foot descending before its head was pulped.
Bel checked the ground for his crossbow and spotted it. He rolled towards it, coming up on one knee with the weapon in his hands, shooting a bolt into a hugger swinging from the trees. He slid it back into his belt and noticed Munpo, who had a gash in his arm but was otherwise unhurt. The troop leader was furiously glancing about for his next target. Around him soldiers were ramming their swords into the wounded or dying, but suddenly there were no fresh waves bounding in. The screeching in the trees began to dwindle – the huggers were retreating.
‘The big male!’ shouted Rokinin, pointing with one of the two longswords he carried. Bel saw the large hugger swinging away through the trees, followed by some of its smaller brethren.
‘Follow it!’ shouted Munpo, charging into the undergrowth. ‘It’ll lead us to the nest!’
Bel bounded after, slashing at plants in his way. Ahead he could make out the fleeing beasts, sometimes springing from tree to tree like cats, sometimes swinging like apes. He could hear other soldiers in pursuit and knew the troop had begun to spread out. Somewhere Munpo was calling orders – the nest had to be found and every beast there killed.
Bel stumbled over a hidden root, but caught hold of a branch and hardly broke pace. He heard a series of crashes to his side and saw M’Meska springing high on her powerful hind legs, spines raised along her back. Two bounds and she was away ahead of him. He rounded a boulder to see the Saurian sighting the big hugger with her longbow. Her arrow flew towards the beast, catching it in the backside mid-swing. It wailed and barely managed to catch its next branch. M’Meska sent another arrow and this one struck its shoulder as it was hauling itself up. It yelped and lost its grip, crashing to the bushes below.
Blade Bel –
Not now!
Bel found himself alongside Munpo, and together they approached the place where the big male had fallen. Somewhere nearby they heard Gredda calling for the rest of the troop to converge.
‘Be careful,’ puffed Munpo as they slowed. ‘There may still be some fight left in it.’
Blade!
Quiet!
They came to a stop before the quivering shrubs where the big male had fallen. Munpo raised a finger to his lips and tentatively pushed aside a fern with his sword. The big hugger erupted, white mucus streaming from its wide maw, yellow eyes blazing with hate. Munpo and Bel each raised their swords, but the hugger jerked in-leap and fell, a final arrow sticking in its neck. They turned to see M’Meska on a log behind them, scaly lips pulled back in a snarl.
‘Not even make good rug, smell so bad,’ spat the Saurian. Her eyes flickered and her nostrils flared. ‘Smell very bad here,’ she said.
She glanced up, and the others followed her gaze. As they did, their knuckles whitened on their weapons. They were standing in the middle of the nest.
I tried to warn you.
In the trees above were row upon row of yellow eyes. Wide lipless mouths opened to reveal dripping fangs. Claws sheathed and unsheathed as the creatures began to hiss, the sound building as more joined in. Heads appeared from inside nest-like structures of twig and leaf as parents realised they had been invaded.
