The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith

by Douglas Van Dyke

  * * * * *

  Trestan climbed out of the cell remains as the giant roared below. The paladin-aspirant turned to assist Cat and Lindon in escaping the wreckage. A platform against the main trunk of the tree offered questionable refuge, as it had been clipped by the huge stone. They crawled over unstable boards looking for a safer spot. The three companions paused to dwell on their next course. The nearby walkways and platforms formed a maze of fleeing elves. The druids and guards concentrated more on evacuating people and the enraged firbholg, rather than worrying over the prisoners. The trio picked a walkway and ran for safety.

  The firbholg followed them with its dulled eyes. The giant rammed its full weight into one of the trees supporting the walkway. The great trunk cracked and split. The firbholg kept shoving the tree until it gave way. When it went over, it snapped several walkways and removed a portion of a tree house support.

  Trestan and Cat shouted to each other as they held on to the ropes connecting a suspended bridge. The ropes and wood stretched and ripped as the other tree fell through the tangle. The two adventurers went swinging through the air on a scary ride, barely retaining their hold as ropes whipped about. Now dangling from a web of criss-crossed ropes and branches, they worked to climb back up to a platform.

  Lindon was not so lucky. The bearded minstrel fell along with some of the wreckage and a few elves. The resourceful human whistled a tune that levitated him down safely. He landed gracefully among fallen elves who had not endured an easy landing.

  Lindon was still dressed in the colorful, multi-layered fashions of Orlaun. It was a look that called for attention amidst the woodland garb of the nearby elves. Lindon’s blue eyes looked up from the rim of his red hat to see the firbholg’s clouded eyes focused on him. Even if he was not dressed so different, the minstrel reasoned that any being charmed by Jentan might pay particular attention to the man that had foiled the mentalist in the past.

  The giant paused for a moment. Inside, its fogged mind probably grappled with the mentalist’s commands. The minstrel had no doubt what would happen once the firbholg sorted its thoughts. Lindon moved slow and cautious in the hopes of putting a plan into motion before those giant feet went into motion. His hand slowly reached to his vest pocket. He would have preferred the use of his captured mandolin strings to break the enchantment. The minstrel was forced to settle for the notes from his bamboo flute.

  A blast of discordant music flew from the flute and thundered painfully on the ears of those nearby. It was a trick designed to break the shell of most mental intrusions. It had brought both Jolynn and Sondra from Jentan’s imposed delusions.

  This time the trick had no effect. The firbholg reached for its tree trunk club. Lindon noticed mud packed into its ears, likely even shielded by magic. Jentan and his companions had not left an easy opening by which the charm could be lifted.

  There was no time left to do anything but run. The firbholg lumbered forth faster than any giant would seem capable of in this forest city. It swung the oversized club. Lindon had to stay one step ahead as the giant slammed aside small trees and stomped flat a small cart.

  * * * * *

  Cassyli ran across the central room and grabbed the handle of Trestan’s blade. Illwinu appeared, only partly dressed.

  “What do you plan to do with that sword?” Her green hair was in a mess as she shrugged her arms into a robe. “You have never wielded one! Did you even find your brother yet?”

  “Foyren disappeared around the same time that the prisoners did last night, after dismissing several of the guards from their stations.”

  Naef’ad Illwinu’s jaw went slack at the news; nevertheless, she moved quickly enough to block her younger son’s exit. “You are not going back out there without me by your side!”

  Cassyli’s mother demanded too much of his respect to blatantly disobey such a request. “Then please hurry, mother. Lives are at stake as we delay.”

  The scout explained the attack with barely constrained patience as the matron of the Wessail family grabbed a few more possessions. None of her choices included a weapon of any kind. Once garbed, she allowed Cassyli to lead her back into the chaos veiled by the misty rain. She said nothing more of his choice to bring the sword. He was a veteran scout and a fighter in his own right. Illwinu could only hope that his decision to wield the magical blade wouldn’t lead to something regretful.

  * * * * *

  Trestan and Cat succeeded in clambering atop a platform. The tattered rope bridge swung in the rain below them. Other walkways and wooden bridges led from their perch, but they had to decide where they were going next.

  “Did you catch sight of where Lindon fell?” Trestan asked.

  Cat’s green eyes scanned the forest floor. She watched the firbholg as it concentrated on a runner on the ground. “There he is. The firbholg is chasing after him.”

  Lindon weaved through trees and supports too narrow for the giant. The firbholg pursued with single-minded determination. The creature shoved aside smaller trees as it swung its club. The club sometimes smashed through a support beam that the human had run past. The damage below began to create even more chaos above. Few elves remained near that were not warriors or scouts. Those present found themselves hanging on to swaying walkways or jumping from collapsing platforms.

  A Naef’ad on the platforms lowered her head, as she issued a sorrowful order to the line of elves nearby. The group of archers fired the first volley of arrows at the firbholg. The creature yelled in rage as some of the missiles stuck in the hard skin. The feathered shafts sticking from its hide seemed small annoyances. Cat noticed bows and arrow quivers tied against a walkway nearby.

  Cat spoke to Trestan even as she started running to the armaments. “I’m going to get my hands on a weapon and help distract it from Lindon.”

  Trestan nodded. The seminary trained him for crossbows, but never bows. He scanned around the scene for any situation in which he might be useful. The paladin-aspirant noticed Cassyli and Naef’ad Illwinu on a platform, noting that the scout held Sword of the Spirit.

  Below, the firbholg paused its pursuit as it recalled its magical abilities. The creature tapped into the natura used by shamans and druids. As one, the remaining arrows were expelled from its body. The skin hardened considerably as the firbholg’s spell sought better protection. The next volley was completely ineffective. Arrows bounced harmlessly without making any scratches. The archers called out for druids to enchant their arrows with magic.

  The archer squad didn’t have the chance to fire again. The firbholg put its renewed strength into throwing a statue from a garden below. The stone missile demolished the archers’ perch. Even as those elves fell from the destroyed walkway, the remnants of the statue continued upward until impacting a house that had already been weakened by the loss of support beams.

  The elven structure fell apart. A steady stream of debris rained down as its weight ripped the boards holding it together. Trestan saw large pieces of the dwelling avalanche down on the platform where the councilor and her son stood. Debris swept Cassyli from the platform without warning. The sword was spared the fall, but it teetered on the edge of the battered perch. Naef’ad Illwinu hastily cast a divine spell to protect her. She succeeded in erecting a shield that partially deflected the debris. Despite that effort, Trestan soon lost sight of the elf councilor under the pile of wood that dropped on her.

  Cat was busy trying to untie the spare bow from where it was lashed to the platform. Trestan didn’t try to shout out his intent at her. The young warrior turned and navigated a path that would take him to his sword and the trapped elf.

  * * * * *

  Montanya and Sondra hid from the sight of the dangerous firbholg in some bushes. They each wanted to run, but movement would likely draw attention. Although the giant chased the minstrel, the action was never far away. Lindon proved to have amazing agility. He sang a verse with a fast tempo that granted unnatural speed to his movements. It was possible that Lindo
n could give his opponent a hard run race, yet the minstrel did not attempt to flee in a straight line. The man kept the enraged creature confined to one area, by running circles around where the women were hiding. It was only a delaying tactic until the elves could bring sufficient force to bear on it. Most of the citizens had already run to safety.

  Some innocents still remained nearby. The human women observed a trio of elf children hiding at the base of a large tree. Cries came from the fearful faces. Montanya and Sondra would have tried to shush the children if they could, fearful of them attracting the creature. Given the difference in languages and the status of the women as escaped prisoners, neither figured they would improve the situation by making themselves known.

  Silently they sat and observed the interaction between Lindon and the firbholg. They watched as the volleys of arrows struck the giant. When the firbholg picked up the statue and flung it upon high, the two women gasped as they realized he was aiming directly above them. Montanya and Sondra looked up so see the walkway tear apart and spill the elf archers.

  Sondra started to rise up and give aid. Montanya grabbed her arm painfully and whispered, “Don’t! They will likely kill you for approaching them before they understand your intentions are not harmful.”

  The cleric of Ganden had to admit Montanya could be right. More dreadful noises sounded from above. Amid cracks, screeches, and tearing wood, another elf fell from the heights. Even more terrifying, they saw pieces of wood, furniture, and other debris dropping from the sky. The elven dwelling was falling apart above them.

  Montanya jumped backwards, “It’s going to fall right on us!”

  The chiaso started to run. When she heard Sondra running in another direction, she slowed but did not stop. Montanya looked around, spotting Sondra running towards the cowering children. The children huddled against the tree supporting the bulk of the house. Now, that house slowly disintegrated over their heads.

  “Sondra, what are you doing?”

  Sondra Oskires didn’t answer, too distracted with looking upwards as she ran. The cleric of Ganden barely avoided falling objects. Her feet slipped on the wet ground. Sondra changed course to avoid a long, wooden railing that impaled the soft mud.

  Montanya paused, though she stayed poised on the verge of bolting away from the area. “Are you crazy? Those are your captors! Perhaps your executioners!”

  “They are children!” She yelled back. “They need someone to help them.”

  The chiaso danced from one foot to the other. She felt exposed and open. Around her, objects fell from the sky amidst injured elves, while a giant roared uncomfortably close. In the middle of all that chaos ran a self-sacrificial cleric who seemed heedless of her safety while helping strangers. Montanya stood anchored in uncertainty as crazy events unfolded around her.

  Sondra motioned to the children to follow her. If anything, she only served to scare them further. The children trembled and wept. Mucus ran freely from their noses, while tears glistened on their cheeks. Sondra finally went so far as to reach for an arm and try to pull them from the base of the tree.

  A loud crack split the air. Montanya and Sondra looked up and saw a large limb snap apart under the weight of a former wall laying on it. It hung directly over Sondra and the children.

  Montanya screamed, “Soonndrraaaa!!!”

  The wall crashed down against the base of the tree. The chiaso glimpsed the cleric throwing herself over the children protectively before several hundred pounds of rubble covered them.

  * * * * *

  The firbholg roared its anger as it pulled at druidic bonds. The elf practitioners of natura had caused branches and roots to ensnare the giant. The spell struggled to hold the creature at bay. While it offered Lindon a reprieve from running, it seemed the trick would not be enough. The giant proved tougher than the surrounding plant life. It tore roots from the ground and snapped through reaching vines. Many druids hastily gathered around those lending their concentration to the spell. They tried to formulate new plans to thwart the giant.

  They ran out of time. The firbholg got an arm free and tried to reach for its massive club. Unable to stretch far enough, it went with a different idea. Despite the fog of the charm the firbholg could ascertain its biggest enemies. It needed to retaliate against the druids or it would continue to be bogged down. The giant grabbed at a piece of a fallen walkway and slung it around like a sling. The rope bridge still had several boards tied to it, as well as a broken support post on one end. He released it in the direction of the druids.

  The impact knocked down several elves. Most who had been controlling the plants lost their concentration. The uninjured druids scattered as the rope bridge landed in their midst.

  The firbholg burst free of the remaining plant tendrils. It took up its club and focused its rage at the fallen druids. Footsteps thundered closer as they tried vainly to use tricks to slow it.

  Lindon ran into the firbholg’s vision like a blur. Using the harmonic web endowed in his music, whistling as he moved, he ran in with inhuman speed and jumped higher than most athletic humans could achieve. He threw out his cloak and waved his wide-rimmed red hat. The firbholg couldn’t help but notice one of the primary targets Jentan had imprinted upon his brain. In case the aerial leap failed to catch its attention, Lindon also flung a throwing dagger he had succeeded in smuggling past the elves. The dagger bounced off the creature’s jutting eyebrow ridge.

  The minstrel hit the ground running. Behind him came the firbholg with upraised club. The druids were spared as Lindon led the beast away on a new chase.

  The minstrel had passed close to the firbholg to distract it. Lindon’s first priority was to get more room to run. He decided to use an illusionary trick to enact misdirection. Lindon brought the bamboo flute to his lips. Changing songs, and thus changing spells as he did, his pace became treacherously slowed as the firbholg closed the gap. A few, quick notes from the bamboo flute, and then Lindon tossed his red hat one direction while he turned in the opposite direction. To everyone else, it seemed as if the minstrel split into twins and charged two different directions.

  In order for the trick to work, one had to hear the music. The firbholg’s ears were still thick with mud. The giant never saw the illusionary double, only the real minstrel. The giant kicked at this bothersome bug, sending him flying a short distance. Lindon Taleweaver somersaulted over a wall built of piled stone only to land in someone’s garden. Dazed, he nevertheless made an attempt to stagger to his feet and keep running.

  He didn’t get far. The firbholg’s tree club swept into the wall of boulders and sent pieces of it flying across the garden at him. A spray of stones knocked Lindon senseless. The minstrel went down, limp and unmoving, at its feet.

  The firbholg raised the club high. Its head and back arched upward as it roared its victory message throughout Serud’Thanil. The club was set for a great finishing blow.

  As its head rose, it saw a row of elf archers atop another platform. In the middle stood one who was not fully of elf blood. The firbholg understood her identity from the enchanted whisperings of Jentan. It knew this person as another important target. The misty rain plastered Katressa Bilil’s raven tresses to her head and shoulders. Her green eyes displayed the deadly seriousness of a hunting cat, poised for the kill. The other elves let loose arrows that bounced harmlessly off the thickened skin of the firbholg. When Cat fired her elvish bow, the arrow shot into the open mouth. The roar of the giant ceased abruptly as the arrow skewered its soft tongue. Cat stared with unnerved ferocity into that giant’s dark eyes.

  The firbholg switched priorities to its newest foe.

  CHAPTER 28 “Test of the Butterfly/Challenge of the Beast”

  Trestan arrived at the platform to find Naef’ad Illwinu trapped under the remnants of the fallen dwelling. A pile of boards and mud bricks almost obscured the elf matron. Her divine magic kept a shield enacted above her. It held much of the weight from crushing her, but her visage gave evidence of
the ongoing struggle. Injured or not, the shield sapped her strength. Trestan glanced around. He saw no others trapped or close enough to help.

  The champion of Abriana walked to where Swords of the Spirit lay fallen near the wreckage. The scabbard was missing, but he could find that later. He listened for a moment to the roars of the firbholg below. With no time to delay, he turned to the trapped councilor.

  Even as she kept her hands above her, keeping her shield alive, she could see Trestan walking towards her through the entrapping boards. She glared at him in fury, expecting the worst from her former prisoner. Trestan still did not have a good grasp of Elvish. He said a couple words to Illwinu that he did know, asking her to hold still. He then raised his sword for a strike.

  Naef’ad Illwinu had only venom in her voice as she replied. She spoke the human language rather well though with an accent. “Now we see your true nature is like that of the others! I am helpless and you could run, yet instead you seek to finish me. Take my head if you dare, you will be hunted down by my kin.”

  Trestan lowered the sword and replied in the human tongue. “You have misjudged us again. We never came here with malice towards your people. If you hold still, I can try to free you before the weight of this house crushes your bones.”

  Naef’ad Illwinu said nothing. She stayed silent while measuring him by his actions. If his intent was to harm her, she had no defense. Trestan leaned closer, inspecting the boards around her. He lined his sword to strike at a thick beam. It surprised the councilor that his weapon could be regarded useful in clearing such heavy debris. She had seen the whieu swords display amazing feats with their keen edges, yet no one had ever attacked a pile of brick and wood with one.

  Trestan exhaled in a grunt as his sword sliced across. The blade chopped through wood and hardened clay. The squire of Abriana worked methodically at saving the elf woman despite his anxieties about the giant facing his friends. He had to choose his strikes carefully to avoid sundering her divine shield. The sword had ruptured shields cast from divine spells before when wielded against Savannah. Trestan could not afford to make that mistake and be accused of killing one of the city’s influential rulers.