Crooked Finger and the Warl of the Dead

by Rex Hazelton

  "We have to do something to get them excited enough so they’ll follow us no matter what. The only way to do that is to spill a little blood."

  Without so much as giving Bala a way out of fighting, for this was no time for pandering, Arga'Dyne said, "Good luck Little One.” Then he sent others to wake up the camp of raiders and pass on what they had heard.

  Travyn and Lamarik nodded at Bala who gave a return nod before she flew off into the night sky.

  The mists that perpetually sat on top of the Thrall Mountains' tallest peaks had spread far enough to include the Broyn'Dar hideout and the approaching cretchym warriors beneath a canopy of vapor. Too thin to blot out the nocturnal guardian's silvery illumination, the fog-like covering was thick enough to transform the cascading moonlight into a muted facsimile of its former glory. Flying through the darkness, compromised by the grainy light that cast its dream-like influence over the warl, Bala went to look for Bacchanor and Dog who were keeping track of the hunchman-human's progress. But some dreams turn into nightmares. And like most nightmares, the night was not lacking monsters, those that used great loping strides to race across the ground and some who were carried through the dark sky on mutant wings. Added to these, ghosts had arrived to help the hunters

  Catching sight of the cretchym vanguard, Bala was surprised to see three wraiths moving through the forest a short way ahead of them. She had heard reports of an epidemic of spectres that was plaguing Ar Warl, but until this moment, she had never seen any herself. Maybe the disembodied spirits were responsible for the hunchman-humans' unusual tracking acuity. It made sense that the cretchym would use every kind of supernatural intervention to help them. Even the Hag were known to employ agents to do their tracking. Take the Shadowmen for instance. With wraiths now available for use, it was likely the black-robed wizards would take advantage of their abilities that far exceeded those limiting flesh and blood options.

  But if the Hag had conscripted the apparitions into service, why were the mist-like spirits moving away from the gorge where the riders were hidden? It didn't make sense for the wraiths to deviate from a path that would have taken the cretchym straight to those they wanted to catch, not after they had led them so well to that point.

  Two women and a man, she noted to herself. Even from the height where she flew through the throes of night, her large, dark green eyes could pick out mannerisms that gave Bala insights into the wraiths. With the elvish-grace they’re displaying, the man and at least one of the women appear to be Neflin. They have the ears, if I'm seeing things correctly.

  But maybe Bala was wrong. With the way the wraiths ethereal forms barely touched the ground as they moved along, she could have misinterpreted the effortless motion as being elf-like when it was nothing of the sort. As for the ears, their insubstantial form made it difficult to ascertain their true shape.

  It was clear, the third wraith was something different- not a Neflin, but interesting nonetheless.

  Looking about, trying to catch sight of either the owl or massive, wire-haired hound who were waiting for her, Bala decided to follow the wraiths as they swept through the greenwood. Bacchanor and Dog would show up so enough. In the meantime, she'd keep herself busy doing something useful. And in her thinking, getting to know more about the wraiths was useful. Besides, Bala found the lead spectre to be interesting in a way she couldn't put her finger on.

  Watching the hunchman-human cretchym sprinting through the shadow-filled greenwood, looking like shadows themselves since the vision they inherited from the hunchman side of their lineage made carrying torches to light their way unnecessary, Bala decided they were chasing the apparitions and not following them. Since the cretchym's large eyes were as well-suited for seeing in the dark as Bala's were, they must have known they were chasing ghosts. Why would they turn away from tracking down Arga'Dyne and the others to do that? It didn't make sense.

  What was it about the wraiths that was interesting enough to make the cretchym run the risk of displeasing their Hag masters? On the other hand, Bala found that she too was drawn to the lead spectre in a way that defied logic. What was it about the woman that made her so compelling? Had she fallen under the same enchantment the hunchman-humans had? Was Bala being drawn away from Bacchanor and Dog in the same way the cretchym were being turned from doing their masters' bidding?

  Before Bala had time to think things through, the thumping sounds made by larger wings was heard before a shadow engulfed her. Two massive bat-like cretchym had found her, those the Hag, after spotting Bala flying over their encampment, had summoned from the Hall of Voyd to run the strange little cretchym down. Equipped with the capacity to locate movement in the night sky by manipulating sounds only their kind could here, the two cretchym were unmistakably qualified to find the diminuitive, green cretchym.

  Dodging the first cretchym's attempt to grab her, Bala was hit by the second one's leathery wing that was used to disrupt her insect-like mobility. As the powerful blow sent her tumbling through the air, the first cretchym abruptly changed directions and siezed her by the leg. Not giving Bala time to unsheathe her rapier-like sword, the monster threw her at the ground. Gaining speed to catch up with her, the second cretchym used its massive, leathery wings to slap Bala about to make certain she didn't right herself as she fell through the sky.

  Hitting the ground so hard it drove the wind out of her, Bala couldn't reclaim her wits in time to do anything about the two winged-monsters that landed on either side of her. If she had seen Koyer when he was alive, the one called the Lord of Regret and Ab'Don's general who came perilously close to conquering Nyeg Warl during the Battle of Decision, she would have realized that her captors were of his ilk.

  A head shorter than Koyer and lacking the magic Ab'Don had given his general, these were, nevertheless, the same type of cretchym as the Lord of Regret. The blood red eyes and fox-like faces were proof of that, as was the black fur covering their torsos, and the leather wings that fell over their bodies as they stood, looking like long, black cloaks were covering them.

  Fangs as big as a hunchman's were visible as the twin monsters savored the moment with smiles that looked more disturbing than jovial.

  "So, the rumors about the Little Green Cretchym are true," the large, bat-like monster on Bala's right said with a velvety-deep voice. "Does that mean the stories about one called Mar'Gul are true as well?"

  "It would seem so," its partner replied. "The Lorne Fast Wraiths tales about a witch with a little green pet appear to have some validity to them after all. I’m sure, Lord Ab'Don will want to interrogate the pathetic creature."

  "What about the Hag who sent for us?"

  "The wizards will have to wait to see if there is anything left of the cretchym to question after the Sorcerer is done," the second monster said. "I'll not anger our Master by placing Hag leftovers on his plate. He'll want to crack the nut himself, so to speak, especially since the nut tumbled out of the Great Rall Mountains where the rebels are gathering."

  "With this cretchym being here," the first monster was busy taking hold of a large pouch it had hanging around its neck as it spoke, "do you think the one called Mar'Gul might be nearby. Our master would surely reward us if we could catch her too."

  "You want us to capture a fire-blasted witch by ourselves? That's not a prospect I relish facing, not when it's said a dangerous beast accompanies her."

  "Aye, it's said a giant hound licks her hand. But I'm not afraid of the creature, if it exists."

  "And what of the witch's magic? Does that worry you?"

  "It would if we were in the Great Ral Mountains, where the source of the witch's power resides but not here in the Thrall Mountains, not where the Hall of Voyd stands. Besides, wouldn’t the witch be more than just a rumor if she was all that powerful. There’s a reason why she hasn’t shown herself in our part of Ar Warl. I fear her not."

  Stunned by the impact of hitting the forest floor as hard as she did, Bala barely registered what she was hearing. The li
ttle she did, only depressed her. Talking about Pearl was not something she wanted to do, not when it stirred up the pain of her lose whenever she did, pain that Bala's way of dealing with things had always turned to anger. That was why she accompanied Travyn on his mission to contact the Broyn'Dar in the first place- she needed an outlet to release the rage she felt over her friend's death.

  "Shut up!" Bala's lilting voice was filled with the rage she had been storing up ever since Pearl died. "You know nothing about Mar'Gul. If you did, you wouldn't be so flippant about meeting her. She'd skin you alive and turn your hides over to the tanners."

  Seeing the little, green cretchym unsheathe her rapier-like sword, her captors spread their massive wings out to fence her in. One swing of the sword, the first cretchym withdrew from the scabbard hanging from a chain wrapped around its waist, knocked Bala's blade out of her hand when she stumbled while fighting off a wave of nausea that swept over her.

  Using arms that were revealed once its wings were stretched out, the second cretchym grabbed Bala by the nap of the neck and lifted her up to stuff her into the leather pouch it had opened.

  As the winged-demon did this, a strange-sounding voice wafted out of the shadows filling the greenwood. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." The words sounded like they came from someone who was standing inside a tunnel made of stone.

  Turning a large, fox-like head to see who had spoken, the cretchym stopped short of jamming Bala inside the leather pouch that would be used to carry her off to the Sorcerer when it saw a wraith standing much closer than it would have guessed by the sound of the voice that had been heard. "Back away spectre, the cretchym is ours," the winged demon snarled out its words.

  As the wave of nausea passed, Bala lifted a hand to touch her head where it had struck the ground. Then she looked at the wraith whose words had stopped her captor from stuffing her into the pouch it held.

  It can't be, Bala thought.

  Using her fists to give her eyes a good rubbing, Bala looked again. To her consternation, her vision had not been improved a lick. The apparition still looked a whole lot like Pearl would appear if she was standing behind a thin curtain of falling water if neither she nor her clothing had any coloring.

  Bala's mind had to be playing a trick on her since she and the cretchym had been just talking about the woman. Still, Bala couldn't help but ask, "Pearl?" Breathless by what she thought she was seeing, Bala's voice was fainter than usual. "Is that you?"

  Shifting its gaze from the hunters, the apparition took Bala in with a look some would consider dispassionate if not for the length of time it lingered on the diminuitive cretchym. Two other wraiths joined the spectre before it turned its attention back to the huge, bat-like cretchym. At such a short distance, it was apparent the other two were Neflin just as Bala thought.

  With its eyes narrowing, the mutant who still held Bala by her legs sneered at the newcomers and shouted. "Back away! Your master commanded us to bring this cretchym to him. You’d be foolish to try and claim her for yourselves."

  "You're mistaken." The wraith's voice hadn't lost any of its strangeness. "We owe no allegaince to Ab'Don."

  "Are you not from Cara Lorn?" The captor was refering to the haunted city that sits in the middle of the Lorn Fast Swamp- the home of the Lorn Fast Wraiths, who were previously imprisoned there, but had recently been loosed upon the warl.

  "Not all the spirits imprisoned there are numbered with those known as Lorn Fast Wraiths."

  "I know about the dead wizard, Andara, if that's what you mean." The bat-like cretchym was referring to the story that told how Ab’Don had imprisoned Andara in the haunted city of Cara Lorn to take his Healing Magic away from the armies that tried to stop the Sorcerer from conquering all the Warl.

  "Andara? Yes. But there are others."

  "And who might you be?"

  "One of the others." The wraith stepped forward with strides that covered more ground than they should have given the number taken. Then its eerie voice took on a dangerous aspect. "If you want to make it out of here alive, put the cretchym down and fly away."

  "I don't fear you ghost. Your fangs and claws can’t harm me. The Sorcerer has armed his favorites with magic that protects us from the Lorn Fast Wraiths."

  "I told you," the apparition spoke as it moved closer to the cretchym, "we’re not Lorn Fast Wraiths. And it's not our fangs and claws you should fear."

  Moving like a strong gust of wind was pushing up against its back, the apparition covered the remaining space separating her from the cretchym in a single heart beat. Angry growling was heard when the Neflin-like phantoms that stayed behind parted to reveal two massive hounds leaping past their vaporous forms as they attacked the would-be kidnappers. One of these was Dog. The other was the shape-shifting wizard who had assumed his canine friend's form.

  Going for the cretchym's throats, the massive hounds hurled themselves at their targets. At the same time, the wraith wrapped itself around Bala in a ball of mist replete with magic that would protect her from any reprisals the doomed cretchym might try to exact on her in the brief moments they had left to live.

  Much larger than those they pounced on, the twin wire-haired hounds made quick work of the cretchym. The attack was so quick, the cretchym didn’t have time to unsheathe their weapons before there wind pipes were torn out.

  Once the killing had been done, the wraith spoke to the hounds. "Quick, the cretchym that are chasing you will soon arrive."

  "Pearl," Bala had to know if she was looking at her deceased friend's spirit or not, "is it you?

  "It's me, Bala," the wraith said after the ball of mist, wrapping the diminuitive cretchym in its protective magic, took on the shape of a woman after releasing her dear friend. "My Darling, we don't have time to talk now, not in the way you want. But we will. I promise you that. First, we must escape. So, listen closely to what I have to say."

  After a short conversation, Pearl asked the Neflin apparitions to join her as she took a position on Bacchanor's back. Retaining the canine shape that mirrored Dog's own down to the last detail, the Brown Wizard served as the wraiths' mode of transportation. Dog carried Bala who was in no condition to fly.

  As Bacchanor set off, Pearl leaned forward and wrapped her vaporous arms around his wire-haired-covered neck and laid her head against his own. From that moment until they stopped later that night, Pearl didn't release the embrace she gave her husband. With their heads as close as they were, the two exchanged their thoughts just as much as they shared their emotions. If both had their way, Bacchanor would never stop running.

  Riding on the backs of the huge hounds that ran faster than the swiftest horse could, Bala and the wraiths fled into the wildwood while the sounds of the hunchman-human's feasting on the slain captors' not yet cooled bodies were heard behind them. Hungry from the energy they expended in the prolong chase, the mutants couldn't pass up a free meal.

  Facing bouts of nausea that continued after being thrown to the ground as hard as she had, Bala accepted Pearl's advice to ride on Dog's back. Once enough distance had been placed between themselves and the cretchym horde pursuing them, time would be alotted for a break so that Bacchanor could use his Healing Magic to restore her injured head.

  ****

  The grotto where Travyn and Lamarik slept contained all those who came with them, minus the horses that were stabled in a nearby cave. The gentle buzz heralding Bala's approach was heard a moment before the diminuitive, green cretchym flew out of the night sky and into the grotto's wide mouth. Landing beside a narrow stream, spilling out of a spring-fed basin that sat in the grotto's recesses, Bala looked at the others as she bent down and scooped up several handfuls of water into her mouth. Excited as she was, Bala didn't take time to wipe away the drops of water that were falling from her chin before she stood and spoke.

  Misunderstanding Bala's reasons for her excitement, Poroth interrupted the diminutive cretchym before she had time to say what she was going to. "Have they found us
?" Standing as he spoke, the Fane J'Shrym reached for his sword.

  "No. No." Bala shook her head in an exaggerated way. "I've got good news! Wonderful news!" Then she laughed like a young woman who had been given a rose by a male admirer during the Spring Solstace Feast. But I promised Bacchanor I would let him share it with you since it affects him the most, thouh I think Lamarik will say otherwise when everything is told."

  "Me?" Lamarik looked to Travyn for an answer he didn't have. "Why me?" Lamarik said as she returned her gaze to the cretchym who seemd inordinately pleased with herself.

  "You'll see," was all Bala had time to say before a great owl, draped in mists, flew into the grotto.

  Partial to assuming an owl shape, Bacchanor had increased its normal size to accommodate the mass of cloud that clung to his feathered back. As it turned out, the mass was broken up into three distinct sections, each in a human form that, on closer inspection, looked like spectres were seated on the Brown Wizard's back.

  Once the owl landed and began to transform back into the man it really was, the vapors dismounted and stood beside the Brown Wizard, revealing that, indeed, they were all wraiths- two Neflin and one human.

  A shriek filled the grotto as Lamarik crumpled to the ground, her chest heaving as she did, her boding shaking under the weight of disbelief that pressed her down. "It can't be," she exclaimed as she pushed herself up with one arm. "Da? Sister? Is it really you, or am I still asleep in Travyn's arms?"

  "No one's asleep." Bala's exuberance was put in check by a look from Pearl, a look that surprised the cretchym by how much it resembled those her friend used to give her when she was clothed in flesh. Even in death, she's keeping me from putting my foot into my mouth, Bala surmised with a sense of satisfaction as she took a back seat during the present conversation.

  Taking Lamarik in his arms, Travyn helped his mate get to her feet. After checking to see if she was alright, Travyn turned to look at the wraiths standing before him. The one with a vaporous arm around Bacchanor looked like his aunt Pearl. Was that possible? And what had Lamarik said about the other two?