Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  Jamie insisted on starting the fire so he humored the lad, understanding full well that Jamie was eager to prove himself. As soon as a crackling blaze was struck, they sat around to eat. Traveling food was never satisfying. They needed to keep their packs light. Once they began their ascent into the range, they would be happier for it.

  Before leaving Landow, Tynen lent him a bow with a set of arrows. Hunting was second nature for him, and there would be game aplenty, but wild game was not what the bow would be most handy for. None could say what kind of danger they would find lurking in the depths of the great pines.

  “Do you have a plan yet?” Jamie asked him after dinner. He shrugged. He had a rough idea, but only just. Locating the beasts was first and foremost on his mind.

  “Once we be in the range, I am sure we will spot the dragons flying overhead. After that, we can follow their flight patterns and trace them back to their lair. I’m still working out the rest.” Jamie looked skeptical. “You got anything better, lad?” It was a rhetorical question, and Jamie shook his head, so he continued. “I am familiar with the lower parts of the range. I used to hunt in them for my family. I can take us in far as I remember, but the paths run out before long. After that, we be forgin’ new ones.”

  “I am sorry about your family, Mikkin.” Tynen said. “It be a terrible thing to lose the ones we love. I still have my wife and son at least.” Tynen made eye contact with him and the hint was not overlooked.

  “I will watch out for him, Tynen. You have my word.”

  Tynen gave him a curt nod.

  It was past dark now, and the stars twinkled brightly above them. Jamie began humming a tune, one that he recognized. It wasn’t often sung, for it was more of a soldier’s song. Even still, he invited the lad to sing aloud. After the first stanza, he and Tynen both joined in. Their voices melded together in unison:

  O’er the mountains do we march—

  O’er the mountains high.

  O’er the mountains to battle gods,

  To battle kings, to battle warriors.

  O’er the rivers do we march—

  O’er the rivers deep.

  O’er the rivers to battle gods,

  To battle kings, to battle warriors.

  Bring your sword and shield and knife.

  Bring your courage, honor, life.

  To battle gods,

  To battle kings, to battle warriors.

  O’er the realm do we march—

  O’er the realm so vast.

  O’er the realm to battle gods,

  To battle kings, to battle warriors…

  He thought the lyrics were appropriate, given the journey they had ahead, except it would not be kings or warriors they battled, but dragons. “It is getting late. We should rest,” he told the other two, who both agreed, so they spread their blankets around the fire and slept.

  For Mikkin it was a restless sleep. He could not escape the confines of his nightmares. He always saw Mardra’s face, followed by Devden and Thomas. They burned in the flames. He often awoke drenched in sweat, burning up as if he had just come from the fire. That night, the scent was so strong in his nostrils, he retched into the grass before drifting off once more.

  The sun rose early and so did they. The dead embers of the fire were left to smolder; they would soon be extinguished. Breakfast, which consisted of more bread and jerky, was eaten quickly and in silence. Tynen’s anxiety for his son’s departure was evident, but he bore his worry quietly.

  When they finished, they packed what little they had. It was important that they make haste and take advantage of the coolest part of the day. So Tynen rounded up the horses and bid them farewell, heading south.

  Mikkin and Jamie began their journey north on foot. It felt unbearably slow compared to the fast pace of horseback. Still, he was glad to be on his own two feet again.

  Onward they trekked into the Northern Barrier Range. The farther they walked the steeper the terrain became. They were soon in the foothills, but they had some way ahead before gaining significant elevation. As they walked, Jamie hummed the same tune from the night previous. This time he did not join in. He saved his breath. They would tire soon enough.

  By midday, the sun was scorching. There was no shelter on the knolls through which they traversed. Even these were becoming too steep to climb, so they stuck to the gorges between. He was eager for shade of the mountain trees, and they were close. At their rate, they would reach the great pine forests by nightfall.

  When the sound of running water met his ears, he declared that it was time for an afternoon respite. To his pleasure, they located a nearby creek, possibly the same that they camped upon the night before. Filling their water skins, they drank deeply. To ease his skin of the blistering heat, he splashed water upon his face and neck, but it was no use. At last, he resorted to plunging his entire head into the icy depths.

  “It’s too damned hot to travel under this blazing sun,” he told Jamie. “We can continue on in a short while.” They sat and snacked on some of the jerky.

  As they rested, the sound of a breaking twig captured his attention. He swiftly held a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then he tiptoed over to the side of the creek where the noise had emanated. A large cottontail was on the banks near the water, foraging through the grass. Reaching for the bow on his back and nocking an arrow, he calmly pulled the bowstring taught. There was no hesitation before he released. The arrow struck true and the creature was dead instantly. He was pleased, and he turned to smile at Jamie. They would eat well tonight.

  By nightfall they were at last under the shelter of the great pine forest. The evergreens were fragrant, reminding him of the many nights spent hunting. Despite these memories of happier times, sadness came too. No matter what he did, he was constantly plagued by his sorrowful losses. Gods was it torture! It was Mardra he missed the most. Her red hair. Her freckles. Her soft touch. He pushed the recollections out of his mind.

  The spit they constructed was sturdy enough. He turned it carefully so that both sides of the meat cooked evenly. A wonderful scent permeated the air as the cottontail cooked. His gnawing appetite was overwhelming. He knew Jamie was hungry too. The lad hadn’t taken his eyes off the prize.

  When it finished, he divided up the portions equally. They both scarfed down the majority of the meat, leaving only a little for breakfast. The leftovers were wrapped up in cloth for the next day. As they watched the fire, they sat silently, for neither had the energy to talk.

  The next morning, Mikkin woke early. Jamie was still asleep next to him. His quiet snores were just enough to breach the silence. Something about the noiseless forest did not sit well with him. He sat up, straining his ears for sounds of anything abnormal. He heard nothing, and that disturbed him, for there ought to be birds chirping and bugs buzzing.

  He remained motionless, listening, and sat that way for several long minutes before he heard them—faint voices somewhere not far off in the distance. They sounded low and harsh, but familiar. He heard voices like these once before. There was only one explanation for them—Gobelins. His heart rate spiked as fear washed over him.

  Gobelins were nasty to deal with, and he had no idea how many there might be. He reached over and shook Jamie awake, putting a finger to his lips. Jamie understood, his eyes wide with alarm. He picked up the bow and quiver, motioning for Jamie to follow him. Together, the two of them crept through the trees towards the harsh guttural sounds.

  They dodged behind the large pine trunks as they went, both in sync with each other’s movements. When they were close enough, he signaled Jamie to stay put. Peering around the tree that hid him, he inquired after the source. It was in fact Gobelins—three of them. The little creatures sat around a campfire, cooking breakfast. They were excited about something because their ugly, stunted, green bodies were alight with movement. They talked animatedly, wildly moving their hands and waving their arms. Mikkin exhaled silently; he couldn’t believe his luck. The Gobelins had been
right under their very noses. Had the creatures made their camp but one hundred steps farther, they would have discovered Mikkin and Jamie fast asleep.

  Only two choices presented themselves. Either they would creep away silently, or they would fight them to the death. In the case of the latter, they were outnumbered, and the feat would be a tricky one. Thus, he liked the first better. Making eye contact with Jamie, he motioned for them to return back the way they had come. He was just about to take a step forward when the voices stopped. The forest fell silent and both Jamie and Mikkin froze.

  Gobelins were known for their supreme sense of smell. This morning the wind was not in their favor. It blew their scent towards the Gobelins. He silently cursed. There was only one thing he could do now. Quietly, he reached over his shoulder for an arrow. With extreme skill he loaded it, keeping his body very still, holding his breath tightly in his chest.

  One Gobelin grunted something in its foreign tongue. Another responded. He dared not peek around the tree now, but he did not need to, for already he could hear them rising. They were noisy. The moment they stood, leaves and twigs crackled under their large feet.

  Taking advantage of the distance and the element of surprise, he jumped around the tree quick as a cat, loosing an arrow straight at them. It hit the nearest Gobelin square between the eyes. Behind him, Jamie gasped. The other two Gobelins stood motionless, processing what had just happened. Then they charged.

  “Run!” he shouted at Jamie. He was already reaching for another arrow. This one he released right as the two Gobelins closed in on him. They were hardly a fathom away. Fortunately, his arrow struck true, right in the Gobelin’s neck. It went in the front and out the back such that it remained stuck there. He did not have time to watch the thing fall.

  Jamie had already fled. He did the same. The third Gobelin gave chase. Outrunning it would have been stupid—they were wicked fast. So as he ran, he grabbed another arrow from the quiver on his back.

  It was imperative that his motions be quick. The Gobelin was too close and there was no time to use the bow. He positioned the arrow pointing outward from his torso, then immediately he stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around to face it. The Gobelin did not expect this. It crashed right into him, its head colliding with his chest. The arrow was arranged so that the Gobelin plunged directly onto it.

  The blow was not lethal for the Gobelin, but it was certainly enough to severely wound it. The creature howled in pain, shouting what he assumed were profanities as it tried to grab ahold of him. He attempted to move away from it, but the Gobelin latched on to his clothing and pulled him backwards. Spinning around, he felt his tunic stretch and twist.

  Its grasp was strong. Instinctively, he gave it a hard kick in the groin. This momentary distraction allowed him to reach for another arrow. Once again the creature hollered and yowled. He took the arrow and plunged directly into its eye. The action was greeted by another scream of pain.

  The little beasty tried to grope for him, wildly moving its arms about, but missed by several yards due to its now damaged eye. Fast as lightning, he reached for one final arrow. This one would be deadly. He nocked it, letting it fly. The point struck the Gobelin in the forehead sending the creature to the ground. It was dead, though its feet twitched several times before falling still.

  Putting his hands on his knees, he took several large gulps of air. It was exhausting work—killing the little things. Furthermore, he was astonished. Never once had he killed a Gobelin. Now he had killed three. It felt good too—taking his sadness and anger out on such terrible creatures. After all, were they not much better than dragons?

  “Mikkin!” Jamie’s call rang through the forest and he silently swore. Blasted boy! What a ruckus he made. The last thing they needed was to draw more attention upon themselves. Then again, the Gobelins had already done that for him.

  “I’m here,” he called back in a much quieter voice. He was still breathless.

  Jamie appeared a few minutes later. He looked from Mikkin to the dead Gobelin at his feet. His eyes were wide. “You—you killed them? All of them?”

  He nodded, standing up straight.

  “Are you all right?” the lad asked.

  “Yes. I am fine. A little winded to be sure.” With his foot, he kicked the Gobelin over so that it was face up. It certainly was an unpleasant little thing. It looked as though it had never seen a bath, or water for that matter. He examined its clothing. There was a pouch tied about its waist, and a small knife latched to its belt.

  Stupid Gobelin! It had not thought to remove its knife. All the more fortunate for him.

  Though Gobelins had an excellent sense of smell and could not be outrun, they were dull as rocks and had terrible eyesight. They were also smelly; this one reeked of rotten fish. He held his breath as he unlatched the knife and the pouch, moving quickly so he could breathe again. Only when he had taken several steps away did he expel the air he detained.

  He opened the pouch to find several gold coins and a red ruby. He held it up to the light just to be sure. Gobelins were greedy little urchins. He handed the contents of the pouch over to Jamie. He had no need for such things. However, his curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered what the other two might possess. Eyeing the arrows that stuck out of the wretch’s body, he decided it would be better to keep them. So once more he held his breath and moved to retrieve them. They made a sickening sound as they were removed.

  “What are you doing?” Jamie cried, astounded by Mikkin’s behavior. He finished his task before answering. The sight of the blood and goo covering the arrows disgusted him. He did his best to wipe it off on the clothing of the Gobelin.

  “The arrows are our only protection right now. We cannot afford to waste them. Unless you want to make more?”

  Jamie shook his head.

  “Good, let’s find the other two. We also need to search their camp. They may have weapons. Then we need to be on our way.”

  Together, they reclaimed the other two arrows and discovered more gold coins, along with several gems in the Gobelins’ personal pouches. Then they located the campfire where it all began. They found three traveling packs possessing nothing of interest to either of them—some nasty looking food, or what Mikkin assumed was food, and stinky clothing. The only things of value were their short swords, wide and curved outward at the waist, which the Gobelins had been too stupid to grab. Mikkin tossed one to Jamie.

  The lad looked at it in disgust. “What do I want with a Gobelin sword?”

  Mikkin rolled his eyes. Gods this boy was daft. “You are supposed to use it. I doubt these will be the last Gobelins we happen upon. Besides, Gobelin steel is hearty. They will serve us well.”

  They made their way back to their campfire and packed up their belongings. He tied one of the knives to his ankle and tossed another to Jamie to do the same, then he wrapped one of the short sword sheathes around his belt and tied the extra one to his pack. He immediately felt safer. He did not know what else they would find lurking in the forest, but he was sure that they would be better prepared for it the next time around.

  26

  The Gable Forest

  Claire expelled a sigh of relief the moment the Gable Forest came up before them. The trees towered above them like sentinels, their branches stretching up to the sky as if giants themselves praised the heavens. Her heart fluttered with excitement as she gazed up at them with wide eyes. Within just a few seconds of beholding it, a strong desire to plunge herself into the depths of the trees consumed her. Was it her eagerness to be cured of the Vodar’s poison, to rid herself of the pain, or something else entirely that established such a feeling?

  Just yesterday, the thought of venturing into the forest and traveling to Esterpine sounded like the worst possible idea—absolutely absurd. Cyrus, on behalf of his entire kingdom, insulted the Sprite queen and her people by demanding the Stones be returned. It felt almost humiliating to present themselves. Despite this, now she wanted nothing mo
re than to venture beneath the green cover that beckoned her. What changed?

  She looked at her companions. Reyr stood to her left carrying Cyrus’s shrouded body cradled in his arms. He wore an apprehensive expression. The same could be said of Koldis and Jovari, who also eyed the forest with uneasy disquiet. They stood motionless for several minutes, waiting on the brink of the unknown. Their hesitance made her impatient.

  She was relieved when Reyr finally stepped forward. They followed after him. She did her best to keep up, limping along as spasms of pain shot up her leg. With every step, she felt herself beginning to slow. Her breath started coming in ragged gasps as the pain deepened, especially when her companions increased their pace.

  “You three just go on ahead then,” she called sarcastically through gritted teeth. “I’ll catch up later.”

  Reyr gathered her meaning and decreased his gait. The other two followed suit. “We should keep our voices down,” he warned, looking over his shoulder at her as they stepped into the shadows—shadows that would stay with them for the entirety of their journey through the trees. “Best we not draw attention to ourselves whilst we are here.”

  “Who knows what we will find lurking within,” Jovari muttered, giving the forest a dark look. Koldis said nothing and merely clenched his jaw.

  Since entering Dragonwall, she had not yet witnessed agitation like this. Even when the Vodar attacked their camp, her companions appeared far more sure of themselves. What was so worrisome about a bunch of trees?

  There are many things to fear within the Gable Forest. It is a hostile place for outsiders…

  She snorted aloud, earning a stern look from Reyr. Perhaps her conscience was correct, but her heart disagreed. The forest was nothing more than a forest, after all. And part of her rejoiced to be here.