by Garry Spoor
“There’s no time for that, Kile.” Erin said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
No, there’s never enough time, she thought. Everything was moving so fast and the fallen seemed to get left behind. She fell into her Edge and felt Grim’s presence. He was never too far away. The heavy clopping of his platter sized hoofs on the stone walk told her exactly where he was.
“Come on Grim, this isn’t over.” She said, getting to her feet.
Laying her hand upon his side, she felt surprisingly refreshed. He was her strength and she would need him now more than ever.
Climbing up onto his back, she drew the Lann from his harness, her hands tightened over the well-worn grip. Closing her eyes, she fell back into her Edge. She could feel the ravens, they were still here with her, as were the red shouldered eagles, who watched from the cliff face, and the dogs, who were still fighting alongside the men of Moran.
She felt surprisingly calm at the moment when Bakara came to her, gently landed on her shoulder. He showed her a view of the battlefield, which no other soldier could see, and through his vision, she searched for the source of the war.
If vir didn’t want the war, and the valrik didn’t want the war, and surely the dogs had no interest in any war, then who did?
“Vadokk.”
“Who, or what is a Vadokk?” Steele asked.
“Vadokk is leading the valrik forces,” Kile replied. “We remove him, and we may have a chance of breaking this siege.”
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that easier said than done?” Larks asked. “We have no idea where he is, and even if we did, we couldn’t get to him.”
“I know where he is,” Kile said with a grin.
“Kile… what are you planning on doing?” Erin asked.
“I’m planning on finishing this. I’m planning on taking the battle to Vadokk.”
“That’s madness,” Steele added. “Wait for reinforcements.”
They made sense, but she wasn’t listening to them. She just wanted this to end, and to end now.
“What do you think Grim? You want to wait for reinforcements, or are you ready for one more ride?”
-Oh… why not?-
Grim replied in that unapologetic attitude he always seemed to possess under pressure.
Mountain Ponies don’t run, unless they want to, and it would appear Grim wanted to end this just as much as Kile did. He picked up speed, and it wasn’t long before he was running flat out to where the Callor forces held back the valrik line.
The men of Moran quickly moved out of his way. They were all too familiar with Grim by now. Nobody stood in the path of a charging mountain pony, not if they wanted to live. Grim navigated the corridor left open by the men, a direct path to the barricade which was even now being overrun by the valrik forces. The dogs fell in with the pony while the ravens, and the hawks, took to the sky. Kile couldn’t help but wonder what Alex would have made of this spectacle. He may have made the prediction in jest, but now it was all too real. The soldiers stared in awe when she passed. This would not go unnoticed, she thought. If anything, it would only add to the Legend of the Wild Hunter.
Steele, using his Edge, quickly overtook Grim. At first, she thought the Hunter was going to try to stop them, but he hit the front line with an audible pop. It sounded like a cork being pulled from a bottle, only much louder. The valrik were thrown from the barricade by some unseen force, leaving a breach in the front line. Some mystic art of the air, Kile thought as she and Grim aimed for the opening.
Those valrik, who were fortunate enough not to get trampled by the mountain pony, were either taken out by the pack of dogs which followed, or kept at bay by birds. All she had to do was keep her head down and let Grim take her to where she needed to go. Of course, once she was there, she wasn’t really sure what she was going to do.
It didn’t take her long to find Vadokk, but then, she knew exactly where he would be. He wasn’t the type of leader who stayed behind and let his forces have all the fun. He enjoyed the carnage too much. The closer he was to the battle, the more control he had.
He was definitely one of the largest, ugliest, valrik she ever saw, but thankfully, not as large as a brunrik. He had the same gray complexion, like wet stone, but his stature was closer to that of a vir than of the Uhyre. He was riding on the back of a saladogs, and was decked out in some form of crude armor. It looked as if it had been slapped together from a variety of different sources, but the one piece she recognized was the helmet perched upon his oblong head. It once belonged to Sergeant Wargner.
She never really liked the man, and she knew the feeling was mutual. He was a narrow- minded, chauvinistic, foolish vir. She would even go as far as to say his action led to the demise of Perha Squad, but none of that mattered now. Seeing his helmet upon the head of Vadokk was unacceptable.
She could feel the fire burning within her, her feral side was rising, taking over, and this time, she didn’t try to stop it, instead, she embraced it. She let it wash over her, consume her, she felt more alive and more aware at that moment than she had at any other time in her life. Every feeling seemed to be amplified and yet it didn’t overpower her. She felt the cold air pass over her skin, the warmth of the mountain pony beneath her, and the soft worn leather of the blade in her hand. She could smell the burning of wood and the sharp metallic scent of blood. She could hear the sounds of battle and even taste the acrid smoke in the air. Even though she was focused on Vadokk, she was completely aware of everything going on around her.
Vadokk, upon seeing her, raised his axe and then slowly leveled it, in her direction. It was an unspoken challenge, one she was willing to accept. It didn’t take long before the short legged saladog was charging toward them at an incredible speed. Kile tightened her hold on the Lann as Vadokk stood up in his saddle, gripping the axe in both hands. For one brief moment, it felt as if the war stopped to witness the collision, because that’s what it was, a collision. Kile attempted to steer left and pass Vadokk on his right side, giving her one good shot at taking the helmet right off his head, and possibly his head along with it. Whether it was Vadokk’s plan to swing left, into her path, or Grim’s decision just to run over the valrik and his saladog, she wasn’t sure. The next thing she knew, she was sailing through the air with no horse beneath her.
She hit the ground hard, landing on her right shoulder, the same shoulder Sumsor treated less than a week ago. A sudden blast of pain knocked the feral side right out of her as she staggered to get to her feet. Her right arm was numb, down to her fingers, and she could no longer hold her blade. She was forced to shift it to her left hand. She turned to survey the aftermath. Vadokk was also slow to get to his feet. His new helmet spun around on his head, and was now dented on one side. He was having a hard time, turning it back around so he could see his opponent. Eventually he pulled it off and discarded it altogether. The saladog received the worst of it. One platter sized hoof to its skull was the last thing the creature saw or felt. Grim was nowhere to be seen and the valrik forces were beginning to tighten the circle around them. Even if she won this battle, which didn’t seem very likely, she had no way out.
Vadokk shouted something to her, or it could have been at her, but since she didn’t understand the guttural tongue of the valrik, it made very little difference. He hoisted his axe in the air and ran at her. She knew this wasn’t going to be an easy battle. She would have to stay on his left side and keep him turning. As long as he was moving, he wouldn’t be able to set his footing. If she stopped, if she gave him the opportunity, one swing from his axe would be the last thing she would ever see.
Vadokk came at her with a two handed overhead attack. It would appear the valrik learned their fighting skills from the same books the vir used. She knew she couldn’t block it, that would have been pointless, and rather painful, so she out maneuvered him. Sliding past him, she countered with a clean shot to his left side, but his ill-fitting armor proved too strong. He recovered quickly, too quick
ly, as he leveled off the battle axe and swung at her. She was forced to drop under the swing and roll. Although she managed to save her head from being separated from her body, she temporarily lost sight of him. It should have been a costly mistake. There was a loud crack, followed by a heavy thud and what sounded like a roar from the crowd. Quickly spinning around she brought her blade across to defend herself from Vadokk’s attack, but he was no longer there. Only an ill-tempered mountain pony stood before her.
“Where’d he go?” she asked Grim.
- He had to leave. –
Grim said, motioning to the far wall, where the valrik lay in a crumpled heap.
- I was aiming for the window… but I missed.-
“I did have him, you know.”
- Yes, it looked like it. I wouldn’t worry too much. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to prove it.-
Well, that was true enough, Kile thought as she turned to face the valrik army. She was behind their lines, too far away for help to reach her in time.
- You better get on, they don’t look too happy.-
“You were the one who kicked their leader into a wall.”
- It seemed like the proper thing to do at the time.-
She never thought of horses having violent tendencies until she met Grim.
Kile tried to get onto the pony’s back, but with only one working arm it was rather difficult. Grim was forced to get lower to the ground to help her.
“They're still not coming after us,” she said when Grim got to his feet. “What are they waiting for?”
- What do you care, let’s just get out of here.-
“What, you mean retreat? We have the advantage.”
- Let's not think of it as retreating, let's think of it as advancing in the opposite direction.-
“I don’t think that’s going to work this time, Grim,” she said, looking behind her. The valrik had them surrounded.
-So, what’s the plan now?-
“I’m open to suggestions.”
-I only have one.-
Grim lowered his head and Kile felt the muscles tense in the pony’s back. It was obvious what he was planning. They successfully ran the gauntlet once, but a return trip was not looking too promising. The valrik had no intention of letting her or Grim get through again. Grim charged, the valrik closed ranks, but before they even reached the line, there was a fiery explosion.
At first, she thought this was some new Uhyre weapon, some surprise they had in store for her, but the valrik looked as confused as she was. She probably should have seized the moment of uncertainty, but charging toward an explosion was not on her list of survival tactics.
There was a loud pop, off to her right, along the ruins of Moran. All she could see were valrik flying through the air in all directions. Something streaked out from the gap which was created and flew past her. She was just turning to see what it was, when a large section of the stone road was torn from the ground and began to rise in the air. This wasn’t possible, she thought. It hovered for a moment, before it was dropped within the enemy’s midst.
“What was that?” she shouted.
“That would be the stone brigade.”
Kile spun around to see Steele leaning over the crumpled body of Vadokk. She should have known the pop was him. She saw him use his Edge to clear the barricade for her.
“You may want to get out of the way,” He said, pointing to the valrik line, which was now moving, but it wasn’t advancing, it wasn’t even moving in her direction. They appeared to be retreating. Dropping their shields and swords, they ran back to the western gate. A distant rumbling filled the air and Kile could feel the old stone road vibrating beneath her.
Grim quickly moved to one side as the valrik fled past. The sound pursuing them was deafening. Men on horseback were closing in behind them. Any valrik who were too slow were cut down by the flash of swords or trampled beneath the hoofs of horses.
“That would be the King’s army,” Steele said, answering her unasked question. “I did say reinforcements were on their way.”
“What exactly is a stone brigade?” She asked, watching another section of the road slowly rise into the air.
“Oh, that,” Steele said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s just a bunch of Hunters showing off. A few Hunters found a way to combine their Edges. It was fairly effective in retaking Norfrom. They started calling themselves the stone brigade after that.”
“Since when did Hunters start combining their Edges?” she asked.
“They do, when one of their own is in danger.”
She watched the stone road hover for a moment before falling into the middle of a group of fleeing valrik. For some reason, it just didn’t feel right.
“So it’s over?” She asked. This was a little anti-climactic for her first, and hopefully only, war, not that she was complaining.
“Hardly,” Steele replied. “We may have prevented the valrik from linking up with the Callor forces, but it’s far from over.”
“So, what happens now?”
“What happens now is we get a bit of a reprieve before we head back to the front lines. The war is still on in Blackmoore and Sofland, and Denal is still occupied. The valrik may have lost this battle and one of their commanders, but they aren’t likely to give up quietly.”
“What of Callor? What about Lord Rimes?”
“Callor is now under the authority of Lord Bollen and Lord Rimes has been taken into custody. He will answer for his crimes to the High King, but you’ll learn all about it at the debriefing.”
“Debriefing?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it just yet,” Steele laughed. “There is still work to be done here, before this can be called a victory.”
“As long as my part in this is over, I don’t care what you call it,” she said, watching the King’s Command, fill the street. There weren’t nearly as many as she thought, with all the noise they made. They only numbered about two hundred horsemen.
“It seems strange the valrik would break and run so quickly,” she remarked.
“Not so strange,” a familiar voice retorted. She instantly recognized the man and knew he was one of the few people who could still sneak up on her.
“Master Folkstaff.”
“Hunter Veller, it is good to see you are still among the living.” He said, tipping his hat to her.
He was accompanied by three other men whom she had never seen before. Their colors were not of the King’s Command, but those of the Callor province. Two of the men were wearing full field armor and their faces were hidden by helmets. They stayed back while the third man rode forward. He was tall and rather rigid in the saddle. Good looking, as far as Callor men go, with his square chin, short black hair and dark eyes. He must have been somebody special, although Kile had no idea who he was. She probably should have saluted him, but lifting her right arm was just too much of an effort.
“So, this is the Hunter Veller.” He said.
His voice was soft, but it carried with it quite a bit of authority.
“Yes, sir,” Folkstaff answered with a slight nod. “This is Certified Level Three Hunter, Kile Veller.”
“I see,” The dark haired man replied. He had a grim expression. “Captain Jax informed me, you are responsible for most of this.”
“I knew it.” Kile shouted. “I knew he would find a way to blame me for this. It was not my fault. Sure, I may have suggested the outpost be dropped, but he had as much say in the decision as I did, more so, because he was the one who actually knew how to do it.”
The dark haired man stared at her with a look of confusion, then he started to laugh.
“I see what you mean,” he said, turning to Folkstaff. “The title the men have given her would appear to be very appropriate.”
“You have no idea, sir.” Folkstaff replied.
“What are they calling me?” Kile asked.
“It would appear you are known as the Wild Hunter,” he said.
Wo
nderful. That title is going to stick around for some time, she thought.
“Kile, I don’t think Lord Bollen meant any disrespect.” Steele said, stepping forward.
“Of course not,” The dark haired man laughed again. “I have only the deepest respect for such a great soldier and an even greater Hunter.”
If that was true, why did he sound so condescending?
Kile slowly looked the man over. She even went as far as to get his scent. A mixture of wine, steel and… was that chicken?
“So, you’re Lord Bollen,” Kile said, she wasn’t really impressed.
Folkstaff placed his hand on the man’s arm to get his attention. “We should probably be going, sir,” he said, but it would appear Lord Bollen had no interest of going anywhere, just yet.
“Yes, I am Lord Victor Bollen of Callor,” he replied with a stiff bow.
“So, what’s the big idea of having that second cousin of yours… it is your second cousin isn’t it? Whoever Rimes is to you, don’t you have any control over him? You must have seen this coming, I mean, it’s not like it’s completely out of character. That whole family seems to be screwed up in some manner. Sorry, I don’t know you or yours, so your side of the family might not be as screwed up as his are…”
“Kile,” Steele hissed, yanking on her pant leg and whispering behind his hand. “This is Lord Bollen as in Lord of the Callor Province.”
“Yeah, I know,” she replied.
“Then you should know, you don’t talk to a Lord that way.”
“Oh, sorry… what I should have said is, your side of the family might not be as screwed up as his are, your Lordship.”
“Oh, you are so getting arrested,” Steele mumbled under his breath.
“No, actually she’s quite right,” Lord Bollen replied. “I should have known, and maybe I did. I have no excuse for my cousin’s behavior. I can only hope his imprisonment has, in some way, made up for his offenses.”
