by Aaron Bunce
“So, what, we are to sit out here, with so few numbers, and hope we can hold off whatever comes our way? Honestly, Ama’lik, what are we supposed to do?” Sky stopped chopping wood and leaned against the axe handle.
“We do the best we can, with what we have to work with. We don’t have forty or fifty men, archers, or pikemen, but we have each other. We, my friend are the front line. When those savages come against us we will have to do whatever we can to turn them away,” Julian said, his fists clenching at his side.
He wasn’t angry at Sky, quite the opposite, but his frustration bubbled up nonetheless. Sky stood perfectly still, his eye’s wide, reflecting the dancing light of the fire.
“You have changed,” he breathed.
“Yes, yes, I have,” Julian said, as he ran his fingers over the scars that marred his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Sky narrowed one of his eyes, tilting his head to give Julian a suspicious look, but then cracked a smile. “You practice that speech?”
Julian nodded, but couldn’t hold a straight face for long. They shared in a moment of quiet mirth while stacking up the fresh firewood. Nirnan and Stark returned, leading their large scruffy dogs into the camp. They tied up the hounds and joined Sky and Julian by the fire.
“This damned mountain wind!” Stark said, his teeth chattering together loudly.
“Ah it’s good for you, boy,” Nirnan said, the large bearded man showing no effect from the cold wind.
Stark and Nirnan passed off their news from their patrol before Julian took one of the dogs and started the loop south. The hound stopped occasionally to sniff the ground, but the majority of Julian’s attention was directed at negotiating the treacherous footing between bonfires. He passed Banner, who clung tightly to his cloak as he paced by in the opposite direction.
They exchanged nods in passing. Julian turned around as soon as he spotted the south camp, its tents and fire like a glowing oasis in an ocean of black. On the trip back he stopped at each of the large fires, refueling them from heaping piles of wood. The small stops were a welcome break from the wind, which seeped through every gap in his armor and stabbed at his skin.
He finished at one of the last fires. The wind died down as he dropped a log into the blaze. The air grew supernaturally quiet, and somewhere in the black of night, an eerie toll sounded. Julian turned his head, desperately trying to track the sound, but the wind whipped back up, and it died away in the bluster.
The noise caused the hair on his neck to prickle. He had heard it before. It was the same eerie tone that sounded right before the gnarls attacked the western market. This time, it was barely audible, no more than a whisper in the distance, but some small part of Julian knew what it was.
With a face full of headwind, and too many pounds of armor and gear to count, Julian ran into the camp. Stark and Nirnan stood alone by the fire.
“Horn…” gasp, “did you hear it?” Julian panted, trying frantically to catch his breath.
“Horn, what horn?” Nirnan asked, or tried to, through a mouth full of pheasant stew.
“The horn! The one I heard before the first attack!”
Stark spun on the spot, shielding his eyes toward the dark tree line. Julian lit a torch in the fire. They watched and waited for several labored moments, but could only hear the blustery wind.
“Bird watching?” Sky asked with a smirk as he walked into camp behind them.
“Heard a horn,” Stark said simply.
“Horn? Strange, I didn’t hear it. The trees block the wind on the northern pass, so you would think I would hear it best there,” Sky said, gesturing back over his shoulder.
“If only I had the eyes of an owl. Are you sure it wasn’t just the wind bedeviling your ears?” Nirnan asked, still scanning the darkness.
“I’m sure of it. Heard it clear,” Julian said. His hardened expression seemed to dispel any doubts on the matter.
Chapter 22
An unexpected visitor
Julian paced the length of the camp, periodically breaking from his nervous cycle to patrol the fire line. The dogs calmed, the initial excitement created by the horn eventually fading.
Julian walked the northern line, strolling at a half-jog, desperate to be free from the creeping darkness between fires. When he returned to camp, he knelt down to warm by the fire, scratching the gray-haired dog named Judge behind the ears.
Julian looked up into the dark sky. The hour had grown late. The moon, full in its cycle, finally appeared from behind the clouds. Its silvery glow provided a small amount of relief from the gloom.
It won’t last, he thought, watching the clouds bubbling threateningly.
Julian fumbled with his cuirass, eager to hold Tanea’s token. To remind himself of what he was fighting for, but dared not take it out in front of the others. Instead, he closed his eyes and took comfort in the warm, rhythmic pulse in his chest.
Julian was learning to interpret the varying paces of Tanea’s heart. It was slow and rhythmic when she slept, and then up and down during her waking hours. He also dealt with sudden bursts of emotion, aches, and pains, or changes in his mood that he could not rationalize. Then he started to understand. Their connection went much deeper than he first thought, the flashes of emotion were not his own at all.
Much of what he felt was not happy. He felt her sorrow, pity, and sadness. At times, he would also feel darkness and doom, and part of him wondered if he was experiencing someone dying. The thought was most troubling.
Julian watched the fire, battling with his emotions. His head snapped up as the fire popped loudly. Judge went rigid, a deep growl reverberating deep in his throat.
“Easy boy, it’s just the fire,” Julian said, his stomach fluttering uneasily. Judge continued to growl, his hackles rose as he pulled against Julian, pulling towards the city.
Could they have gotten past us? Julian wondered. Surely, one of us would have noticed. Their patrols were seamless, their dogs were alert, and to his knowledge, no one had fallen asleep.
“Boooo,” the dog bayed and tugged him to his feet, pulling towards the dark void separating them from the city. Julian pulled his sword free, his gaze scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
“Is it an attack? Do the gnarls come?” Sky asked, appearing from around a tent, his sword hanging loosely at his side.
“I don’t…k…n…o…w,” Julian said, creeping towards the edge of the camp. Judge growled again and jerked forward. He lifted his torch, stepping out of the ring of firelight, the torch his only beacon against the darkness
“Show yourself! By the order of the Earl of Barden’s Reach, I order you to show yourself!” Julian shouted into the black. A moment later, a solitary figure appeared in the torchlight, materializing like a pale ghost. They were covered head to toe in a flowing white cloak, the excessive fabric pulled in tight, and the voluminous cowl pulled down over their face.
“Who is it?” Sky asked. The cloaked figure stopped before them, then, reached up and pulled back the cowl.
“Tanea!” Julian breathed. “What are you doing here? Are you alone?”
Tanea stood quietly for a moment, her cloak glowing radiantly in the firelight.
“I had to see you, Julian,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow, as if she were speaking to him from far away
“You should go back. It is too dangerous for you here,” Julian said immediately. He turned to Sky in a panic and noticed that Nirnan had rejoined them from his patrol.
“Please, do not send me away,” Tanea pleaded, although her face remained strangely calm.
“Wait! She is the…you’re the cleric from,” Sky started to say, but Julian silenced him with a look.
“Ama’lik, you don’t want to send her back out in that, do you?” Sky asked, and motioned to the darkness. “Perhaps it would be safer for her to stay here instead, where we could protect her.”
“Why can’t she stay? She could sing for us. Does she know a
ny songs?” Nirnan asked, not looking up from the pot hanging over the fire.
“She’s not going to sing for you! She should not be here,” Julian snapped, and Nirnan threw his hands up in the air.
“I don’t want to leave you, please…do not send me from your side,” Tanea said, pleading quietly.
Julian turned and paced. There was something about her behavior that felt odd to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He turned towards the Silverwood as the horn blared, and this time it was not far off in the distance. The horn was so loud Julian covered his ears. He spun and locked eyes with Sky.
“J’ohaven, strike me down. What is that?” Nirnan yelped and fell over next to the fire.
As soon as the horn died away a great commotion echoed out of the tree line. Dark shapes appeared from the woods, sliding through the trees like inky shadows. Julian squinted as the campfire flared up, the approaching creatures visible only by the reflection of their eyes.
“Stark…Stark, ready yourself!” Julian yelled as the young man came bounding into the camp from the south, his dog straining at its collar.
Julian stepped before Tanea. “Stay behind me, no matter what, stay close,” he said.
Stark popped around the corner, clutching an ash longbow with an arrow nocked and ready. The first gnarl stepped into the camp, the firelight reflecting off its repurposed and ill-suited armor. The creature stopped suddenly and reared up onto its hind legs. It looked around the camp, its nose working the air, searching for a scent.
Several more of the brutes appeared beside it as Stark popped around the tent, and in a single, smooth motion, let an arrow fly. The projectile struck the first gnarl in the throat, just above its sternum. The beast gave a horrible, gurgling cry, and keeled over backward, thrashing onto one of their tents.
Another gnarl bolted in from the darkness. Stark barely had time to drop his bow and pull on his sword before it was on him. Julian had no time to worry about the younger man’s safety, as a mangy, brown haired creature leapt over the tent in front of him.
Julian’s sword came up with a high guard, catching the gnarl’s weapon as it descended, but its weight, coupled with the momentum staggered Julian to a knee.
“Tanea, run! Get out of here!” he yelled and pushed to cut the creature off.
“TO ME, TO ME!” he shouted, hoping the men at the other camps would hear. Julian glanced back. Tanea hadn’t moved.
“Tanea run!” he shouted again, as several gnarls surrounded him.
Nirnan and Stark fought back to back, while Sky dodged in and cut down a gnarl as it ran by. Julian fought frantically to keep the creatures in front of him. Any advantage he had in weapons and training the gnarls made up for with sheer ferocity. Julian’s blade arm ached after parrying just a few of their blows.
Six of them, Julian thought as he surveyed the camp with a quick glance. But not a heartbeat later, more creatures appeared out of the dark, stepping onto their fallen comrades and trampling over the ruined tents.
The gnarls quickly surrounded them. Julian spun, blocking and striking with complete abandon, each movement driven by a desperate will. He heard Stark cry out, and glimpsed a large gnarl jump on the young man, tearing and raking at him like a wild animal.
There was nothing Julian could do. For every blow he landed, five more came back his way. A pickaxe slipped passed his sword and bounced off his forearm. His steel vambrace deflected the jagged edge of the weapon, but the blow painfully knocked his arm aside.
“You damn filthy, stinking…” Nirnan cursed, swinging his weapon in wide arcs, splitting the mob of creatures before Julian as he tried in vain to get to Stark. Sky was knocked to the ground by their campfire, but with a twist and quick kick, the gnarl attacking him fell into the fire instead.
Julian spent all of his energy and focus on keeping Tanea behind him and the gnarls in front of him. He felt crippled with her there, like she was a soft spot in his armor.
A mangy brown gnarl raked its clawed foot in the ground and kicked dirt and sod up at Julian’s face. It snarled and lunged, its pickaxe cutting at his legs. Julian jumped back out of reach but staggered as a smaller, grey gnarl leapt onto him from his left. The creature clung to his shoulders, its black claws scraping against the plates of his armor.
The brown gnarl jumped in, chopping wildly. The first few swings hit only air, but he had to knock the third aside with his sword. The smaller, grey gnarl pounded on his head and shoulders, Julian parried another blow from the brown gnarl and dropped his hip, flinging the smaller creature off of his back and into its counterpart. Tanea screamed behind him. Julian turned just in time to see her cower beneath one of the creatures.
“No!” Julian growled, rage driving him into reckless action. Ignoring the creatures before him, Julian lunged for the creature standing over her. He knocked its axe out wide and accepted the blow of its fists. He took a handful of the creature’s fur and wrenched it around, driving his sword into its back. The blade slipped between its ribs, and popped out through its abdomen on the other side.
With a howl, the gnarl toppled over onto the ground, his sword still lodged firmly in place. As the creature rolled the sword slipped from his hand. Julian twisted, fighting against the thrashing creature, clawing for his sword handle as it danced just out of reach.
Another gnarl, no larger than a child streaked past him and knocked Tanea to the ground. It grabbed her by an ankle and started to drag her away. The creature managed only a few steps before Judge bounded through the camp and bowled it over. The gnarl gave a horrible, piggish squeal as it rolled to the ground, the large dog snapping and clawing in a flurry.
“Help, save me!” Tanea cried out, crawling towards Julian.
Julian fought his way to his feet as Stark stumbled past, his sword gone and a round shield clutched tightly in hand. His helm was missing, and blood marred his pale face. Several gnarls battered him backward, their weapons swinging with abandon.
“Find a blade!” Julian shouted, bending low to pick up the gnarl’s pickaxe, but he was cut off from the young man.
“Tanea, stay close,” Julian said spinning, but she was gone.
“Tanea!” he shouted, frantically spinning on the spot where she had just been, but he couldn’t see her amidst the chaos. He bent low and pulled Judge off of the smaller gnarl. The creature twitched as the dog came free, dark fluid spattering out of its nose and mouth. Julian drove the pickaxe down into its chest, finishing it off.
Judge wrenched free and took off through the camp. Julian ran past the fire and almost ran into Sky, who fought next to Stark. The two men dropped a pair of gnarls with a few graceful parry and strikes.
Nirnan trotted by, red-faced and huffing. He stopped, resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The large man recovered and went straight to where Stark and Sky fought the last two gnarls.
The large man pulled Stark aside and dropped his steel, two-handed battle-axe down. The blade cleaved through the creature’s spear, splintering the wooden shaft and knocking it to the ground. Sky flashed in quickly behind and stabbed it through the heart with his sword.
The last gnarl screeched after watching its counterpart die. It then hissed loudly and bounded out of the camp. Nirnan and Sky joined Julian, their faces ashen and spattered with blood and grime.
Stark crumpled to his knees, the wounds marring his skin sapping his strength. Nirnan knelt next to the young man, tying strips of cloth over the worst of them.
“Where is she, Ama’lik?” Sky asked, but Julian wasn’t listening. “Julian, where is the girl?”
“I don’t know…she’s gone,” Julian stammered, fear and grief filling him completely.
“Help me!” someone cried out behind them. Julian spun on his heels.
A host of creatures stood quietly at the periphery of the firelight, watching and waiting silently. Standing before them was a strange looking figure. The glow of the firelight reflected off a mask, brassy in color, which covered the
individual’s face. They wore a battered iron chest piece, while a pair of ragged trousers covered their stunted legs.
A bare, pale, muscular arm held Tanea in a crushing embrace. Her strangled silhouette reached out to him, silently begging for his help.
“Let her go!” Julian growled murderously.
He raised the pickaxe, and as he did, the masked man pulled Tanea in tighter. He reached down and pulled a strange horn from his belt. It shone deep red in the dim light, and curved like that of a mountain ram.
The thundering of hooves broke the silence as men from the northern camp arrived, their horses snorting and agitated. Tristan and three other men jumped from their mounts and ran up behind Julian, swords and bows in hand. They shouted something, but Julian couldn’t hear what they said.
The masked figure raised the red horn to a gaping hole in its mask. Julian’s heart started to pound as his ears filled with the haunting tone. The strength drained away from his body, and the light from the fire dimmed. A crippling sense of despair settled over Julian as he was overtaken by the urge to lie down and stop fighting. To give up.
The gnarls charged, the heavy reverberations of the horn still hanging in the air. These creatures were larger than the first, brutish and muscular. Their charge shook the ground beneath them.
The first wave was the scouts. These are the killers, Julian thought, tightening the grip on his sword.
Deep inside Tanea’s heart beat strong and true. In that instant, when the blaring horn told him his death was at hand, his connection with her told him something different.
With a roar, Julian dropped his shoulder and rammed into a creature as it came at him. He hit the gnarl, the creature’s stout body crashing against him like a wall of stone. He accepted the pain and drove through it, feeling every muscles strain. Stars burst before his eyes but he managed to keep his feet beneath him.
The sounds of battle crashed against him. Yelling and cursing mixed with the gnarl’s barking and snarling, and somewhere in the din, were the wild sounds of their fierce war dogs. Julian let the energy coursing through him take over. He drove forward, smashing the blunt handle of the pickaxe into the face of the staggering gnarl, and as the creature fell backwards finished it off with a violent chop.
