“It’s a horse,” Torick stated.
Halandor looked at him. “Someone could be in trouble.”
“Let’s go,” Torick said without further discussion.
They turned into the forest, and Makilien was delighted they did not tell her to stay behind and wait for them to return. As they made their way into the trees, the whinnies grew louder. When Torick’s own horse started getting nervous, he tied him to a tree and they continued. Before long, voices mingled with the whinnies, and they crept along more stealthily.
Finally, they reached the bushes around the edge of a clearing where a crackling fire spit sparks high into the trees. Makilien’s eyes grew large as she stared from her position, crouched next to Halandor behind the brush. Gathered all around the fire were the most hideous creatures she’d ever seen. Some were quite short, shorter than she was, while the others were even taller than Halandor and Torick.
Immediately, she suspected the shorter creatures were the goblins she’d heard so many tales about. The ugly creatures stood a few inches shorter than she did. They had inhumanly long arms that were unnaturally skinny. Their pale skin was stretched taut across their limbs, and their bodies were covered in thin grayish brown hair. They had large animal-like eyes and long pointed ears. To Makilien they resembled giant, wingless bats with raspy, high-pitched voices.
The other, larger creatures were the very opposite of the goblins. Their limbs and torsos were thick and heavily muscled. The skin showing through the black armor they wore was dark brown in color, and strange angular tattoos marked the arms of some. Situated atop thick, muscled necks, their broad faces were much more human-like than the goblins, but still monstrous, with fierce yellow eyes and the points of two stained teeth jutting up over their top lips. Most had their heads shaved, though some left strips of black hair growing. Makilien guessed these were the Shaikes Torick had told her about.
Once she conquered the initial shock of seeing such creatures with her own eyes, she located the source of the terrified whinnies they’d heard. Tied securely between two trees was a horse. Underneath layers of dirt and mud and numerous oozing wounds from mistreatment, he bore an ebony coat. His mane and tail were long and thick, and feathering grew from his fetlocks. The poor animal whinnied again, flattening his ears against his head in anger, and tried to rear up; however, the two ropes around his neck yanked him back to the ground.
One of the Shaikes growled in the horse’s direction. “I say we kill it! If it won’t carry our things, it’s useless for anything more than a meal.”
“Yesss!” a goblin hissed. “Kill it!”
The whole group roared and hissed in agreement. Makilien looked at the struggling horse and spun around.
“We have to stop them,” she whispered desperately to her companions. Halandor looked at Torick and they came to a swift decision. Looking down at Makilien, Halandor asked, “Do you think you can use a bow?”
Makilien nodded quickly.
“When I give mine to you, shoot any goblins and Shaikes that you can,” Halandor instructed. By now the creatures were preparing to kill the horse.
Both Halandor and Torick pulled out their bows and nocked their arrows. Holding her breath, Makilien watched one of the Shaikes approach the horse with a long, jagged sword. The horse whinnied in terror, and then Makilien heard the sudden twang of Halandor’s bowstring. The Shaike roared in pain as he was struck fatally in the back by the arrow and collapsed with a thud. For a moment, the other Shaikes and goblins only stared at their fallen comrade. And then, all at once, they scrambled for their weapons. Before they could even reach them, Halandor and Torick dropped a couple more and continued to shoot into the panicked fray. Finally, the creatures gathered their wits and rushed toward the bushes where Makilien, Halandor, and Torick hid. Halandor put his bow and a handful of arrows from his quiver into Makilien’s hands and rose with Torick. The two men pulled out their swords and left the bushes to meet the goblins and Shaikes.
As Halandor and Torick clashed into combat, Makilien hurried to follow Halandor’s instructions. She nocked an arrow and stood up to shoot. Grasping the string, she pulled it back toward her face. Halandor’s bow had a much stronger draw weight than what she was used to, but she managed to pull it back enough and aim at the foul creatures who tried to surround her friends. After only a second to aim, Makilien released the arrow, and one of the goblins dropped with a shriek. Realizing they were up against more than just two opponents, they became disorderly again, and it gave Halandor and Torick an advantage.
With one successful shot, Makilien continued firing rapidly, never missing a target, and taking down any goblins and Shaikes who came her way. In only a few minutes, every one of the creatures lay dead around the campsite. Slowly, Makilien stepped out of the bushes to join Halandor and Torick. She took a deep breath, letting her adrenaline filled body calm.
A soft blowing noise came from across camp, and Makilien looked at the horse. He was much calmer now and stared at them with large, curious eyes. Makilien returned Halandor’s bow and approached the horse. She didn’t know whether he might be wild or if he’d trust her, so her movements were slow and unthreatening.
“Hello there, boy,” she spoke soothingly.
When she came within a few feet of him, Makilien extended her arm. The horse lifted his velvety nose and touched her hand. Right away, she felt a special attachment to him. She ran her hand up his face and gently stroked his neck with her other hand.
Halandor and Torick joined her. The horse watched them, but didn’t seem to feel threatened. Inspecting the ropes around the horse’s neck, Halandor shook his head.
“These ropes are awfully tight. We’ll have to cut them off.”
Makilien looked down the horse’s neck. In his struggles, the rope had rubbed right into his flesh and was stained with his blood. The cruelty of the goblins and Shaikes caused anger to bubble up inside Makilien.
“Halandor, you stay here with Makilien, and I’ll go back for my horse. I have some rope we can use for a halter that is much less rough than what is here,” he said.
Halandor nodded, and Torick hurried away. Slowly, Halandor pulled out his dagger, and, as Makilien kept talking softly to the horse, he cut through the two layers of rope around the horse’s neck.
In a short time, Torick returned with a halter he’d made out of his rope. He slipped it over the horse’s head and handed the end of the lead to Makilien.
“He seems to trust you the most.”
“We should take him back to the river and get him cleaned up,” Halandor suggested. “There we can tend to his wounds.”
Leading the horse along, Makilien followed Halandor and Torick back to the road. By the time they reached it, the sunlight was fading, and they began their search for a good campsite. A short ways from where they left the forest, Makilien spotted a beautiful little area surrounded by ancient willow trees along the river. The ground was carpeted with soft green moss, and groups of cattails grew along the river and rustled in the breeze.
“What a beautiful place,” Makilien breathed.
Halandor agreed. “We can set up camp here tonight.”
Makilien smiled, happy to be able to stay in that spot.
“Why don’t you try to lead the horse into the river and get him clean?” Halandor said. “I’ll get a fire going and make something for his wounds.”
Makilien pulled off her boots, rolled up her pants and sleeves, and tucked the skirt of her dress up into her belt to stay as dry as possible. Glad it was a warm spring evening, Makilien stepped into the cool river, and the horse followed quietly. Halandor tossed her a rag to wash the grime and blood from the horse. The horse’s strong muscles rippled and twitched beneath his smooth coat as she worked, and Makilien tried hard not to cause him pain.
“I’ll see if I can scare up a few rabbits,” Torick told Halandor after he’d unsaddled his horse. “I won’t go too far.”
The campsite fell into silence as Makilien an
d Halandor were both occupied with their tasks. Getting the horse clean was a slow process, but Makilien didn’t mind in the least. She loved standing beside the amazing animal. Now she realized how very big he was. His withers came to well past her own shoulders, and she had to stand on tiptoes to see over his back. What would it be like to ride him? she wondered.
Torick returned with his catch of two rabbits just as the last bit of light disappeared, and Makilien finished with the horse. She led him out of the water and admired him now that his sleek black coat was showing, but still the ugly sight of his wounds remained. As Torick cleaned the rabbits for their supper, Halandor walked over to Makilien and the horse with a wooden bowl in which he had mixed together some sort of herbal paste.
“This will help the wounds heal more quickly and guard against infection,” Halandor explained.
Makilien stuck her fingers into the thick concoction and carefully rubbed it over the horse’s wounds. When she and Halandor finished covering them all, they sat down around the fire with Torick who was cooking the rabbits. From her seat, Makilien stared at the horse as he munched contentedly on a lush patch of grass. Finally, she looked at Halandor.
“Where do you think he came from?”
Halandor shook his head. “I don’t know. There are no villages nearby he might have wandered from.”
Makilien waited a moment and then asked, “What are we going to do with him?”
Halandor looked up at the horse who was now staring at them. “Well, since we have no way of knowing where he came from, we’ll have to take him along with us.” He turned back to Makilien. “Torick already has a horse and I have one in Elimar so I guess that would make him yours.”
Makilien’s eyes lit up with surprise and excitement. “Really? I can have him?”
Halandor smiled. “Yes.”
Makilien looked up at the gorgeous horse she could call her own. It was a dream come true.
“What should I call him? I don’t really know any suitable names for such a beautiful animal.”
Halandor and Torick both silently thought about it, and then Torick suggested, “How about Antiro?”
“Antiro?” Makilien repeated.
“That was the name of a great Eldorian general,” Halandor explained.
Makilien smiled and repeated the name again. It was a strong and proud name. “I like it. I think that is what I’ll call him.”
Feeling quite content, the three travelers had their meal of cooked rabbit and herbs. It was just as good as the trout Halandor had prepared the night before, and Makilien was so glad she was fortunate enough to be traveling with the two of them.
“I had no idea you were so proficient with a bow, Makilien,” Torick remarked in between bites. “Where did you learn to use one?”
“My father taught me,” Makilien answered. “He always promised to take me hunting sometime . . . we never had a chance to, but I used to practice almost every day. It was one of the few activities that gave me any satisfaction.”
“Now as soon as you learn to handle a sword you’ll be well able to defend yourself.”
Makilien looked forward to knowing she could and was eager to begin an evening of practice with Halandor. When both of them had finished eating, they stood and Makilien drew her sword. Now she really noticed how sore different muscles in her arms were, but she tried to ignore it. However, several minutes into the training, Makilien winced and looked down at one of her hands. From the last two nights of practice they had become blistered. Quietly, Halandor walked over to his pack and dug around inside it. When he came back, he handed her two strips of soft leather.
“Wrap these around your hands until they become calloused.”
Makilien gratefully followed his instructions and was able to continue her training.
Chapter Eight
Mountain Wolves
In the days that followed, Makilien, Halandor, and Torick traveled at a fast pace through the forest. Every night Makilien kept up her training with Halandor, and he had also begun teaching her about the forest and survival just as he’d promised. Makilien proved to be a fast learner and quickly retained all he taught her.
Four days after they left Andin, Halandor announced only another three days lay between them and the comforts of Elimar. Makilien enjoyed the beauty of the forest, but she was ready to sleep in a bed again and have a meal at a table.
That night as Halandor prepared supper and Makilien and Torick gathered extra firewood, the echo of a low, eerie howl that sent icy chills down Makilien’s spine broke the silence of the darkening forest. She knew it must be a wolf, but it sounded different than any wolf she’d ever heard howling outside the walls of Reylaun.
“Great,” Makilien heard Torick mutter under his breath.
She followed him back to the fire, dread churning in the pit of her stomach.
“What was that?” Makilien asked them, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
Halandor glanced at Torick with a grave look and answered, “A mountain wolf.”
“What exactly are mountain wolves?”
“They are larger and much more aggressive than any normal wolf,” Torick explained.
“I didn’t expect them to have come this far south yet,” Halandor said.
Shaking his head, Torick mumbled, “Between goblins, Shaikes, trolls, and wolves, it’s a wonder anyone survives the journey through here.”
“Halandor,” Makilien regained his attention. “Will they bother us?”
Halandor looked at her and hesitated. He didn’t want to worry her, but he could only tell her the truth. “I haven’t known them yet to keep their distance.”
“What are we going to do?” Makilien asked, doing her best not to seem frightened. After all, Halandor and Torick had clearly faced the wolves before and lived.
“We must build up a good fire and make sure we have enough wood to last through the night,” Torick answered. “Fire won’t completely deter them, but it might help. They won’t show themselves until dark so we have to gather as much wood as we can while we still have some light.”
The three of them immediately went to gather wood and stacked it next to the fire. A cold dread consumed Makilien as she filled her arms with as much wood as she could carry. She tried to keep her mind focused on the task, but she had to wonder what the night hours would bring. If they were attacked by a pack of mountain wolves, how much defense did they really have?
Light faded far too quickly, and they gave up their hunt for wood to stay close to the fire. With nothing to do but wait, Halandor returned to fixing their supper. Torick untied his horse and Antiro from the nearby trees to bring them closer to the fire as well. He then picked up his bow and quiver, which lay next to his pack, and handed them to Makilien.
“If we’re attacked, use my bow and shoot as many of the wolves as you can. They are quick and agile so it won’t be easy, but if we can bring down enough of them, the rest may give up. I will stay close to the horses and protect them.”
Makilien was glad to know Antiro would have protection.
During their meal, they stared uncertainly into the dark forest. Every little while a howl pierced the silence, each one sounding closer, until finally they were just outside the light of the fire. The horses shifted and snorted anxiously. Makilien clutched Torick’s bow in one hand and kept her sword lying next to her.
Minute by minute, the hours passed, but no wolves showed themselves. As the night grew late, Makilien found herself growing sleepy, yet, just as her eyelids started to droop, movement caught her attention. She barely had time to realize it was a wolf before several more sprang out of the forest from all directions.
Makilien was momentarily stunned by the size of the animals. They were huge—about as large as a good sized pony—and their thick fur was coal black. Makilien scrambled to her feet with Halandor and Torick. She and Halandor raised their bows and nocked arrows while Torick took a stand near the horses.
Makilien drew back the
bowstring and aimed at one of the wolves as it bounded by her. Panicked, she released the arrow before she was ready. To her frustration, it sailed right over the wolf. She grabbed another arrow and took a deep breath to steady herself before letting go. This time the wolf yelped and fell.
Makilien didn’t pause to celebrate her small victory. She immediately grabbed another arrow, but before she could fire again, something hit her from the side with such force it knocked her right to the ground. Gasping for the air that had been forced from her lungs, she found herself staring up at a snarling wolf. Saliva dripped from its vicious, bared teeth, and its cold yellow eyes glinted in the firelight. Makilien threw her arms up for protection as the wolf’s head dropped toward her face. She let out a cry of pain as the wolf’s teeth sank into her right arm. Halandor shouted her name. The wolf let go and was about to lunge for her neck when it yelped loudly and stumbled away, eventually falling with an arrow in its side.
Makilien scrambled upright and heard an almost unperceivable swishing as more arrows flew out of the darkness behind them, one right after another at an almost inhuman speed. Each one found its target with astonishing accuracy, and the wolves dropped as fast as the arrows appeared. Finally, the last few turned and fled into the forest.
For a moment, no one moved, but then all together they turned and looked into the forest behind them. Out of the darkness, a figure appeared almost as if he’d materialized from the shadows. Approaching them gracefully, clad in clothing of various shades of dark green, brown, and gray, he moved without a sound, not a single leaf or twig crunching under his soft leather boots. Forgetting the rudeness of it, all Makilien could do was stare. This new being joining them appeared to be Human, but she knew he was not. His long flaxen colored hair was very straight and smooth, and he had the clearest blue eyes Makilien had ever seen. He turned his head for a moment to scan the forest to his left, and Makilien almost gasped. The being had pointed ears. He must be an Elf! She was awed. This was certainly not how she’d ever imagined Elves when she’d heard Mornash’s stories.
Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1 Page 6
