Fireclaws - Search for the Golden

by T. Michael Ford

  With a dramatic flourish, Aegone signaled the torch bearers, and they immediately tossed their brands on wood under the wagon. The dry tinder practically threw itself into the fire, and in a few seconds, the entire pile started to churn with smoke and laughing flames of hellish delight.

  Without thinking, I redirected the energy I was building up for the fly spell to my hands and let loose with a blast of air. Normally, one of my best casts couldn’t knock over a potted plant from this distance, but I must have instinctively channeled some of my bottled-up rage and hit it just right.

  A howling cone of straight-line force blew under, across, and around the wagon, extinguishing the flames as if they were matchsticks. The wind chased the accumulated piles of wood and tinder out from under the wagon. It exploded them outward with enough strength to cast most of the material over the banks of the chasm and into the river far below. The sheer force of the gale lifted the heavy wagon up on two wheels and held it teetering there for a few seconds until the magic subsided. The wagon then slammed back down onto all four wheels with a dramatic screech of rusting twisted metal, kicking out a couple of the wood blocks that kept it from rolling.

  There was complete and total eerie silence as every mouth in the place formed a silent O, and nervous glances were exchanged throughout the crowd. To his credit, Aegone probably snapped out of the shock first, even before me!

  “How dare you interfere with Canna justice!” he bellowed, his usually colorless face now stained an apoplectic red color.

  “Burning a natural creature alive is not justice! No more than throwing a defenseless, manacled woman over a cliff into a river is justice!” I screamed back at him. “Where I come from, the gentle wisdom of the kingdom of elves is revered. I see neither gentleness nor wisdom in the deeds of the Canna!”

  “You…you overreach yourself, Wizard! Another word and I will have you cast into the cell with the Jag’uri you so eloquently defend.”

  “I will make you a deal, oh great chief of the Canna!” I shouted sarcastically for all in the silent crowd to hear. “Since the Canna allegedly value courage and honor above all things, I will voluntarily walk into the cage with the creature bearing no weapon and using no magic. I will abide with it for a span of twenty minutes to prove that the horrifying and deadly Jag’uri will not harm me. At the end of that time, I will tie a piece of string around its terrifying neck and lead it out of the enclosure like a kitten. We will then leave this place, your forest, and all the lands of the Canna forever. Deal?”

  “Impossible! This beast slaughtered twenty hardened warriors in the past two weeks. Once we netted it, it took another twenty men with ropes to get it into the cage. It will rip your guts out and bat them around like a ball of yarn before you take two steps inside,” the chief growled.

  “Well, that would seem to be my problem, now wouldn’t it? Either way, you are rid of an annoyance.”

  “Very well, it is your own death you seek!”

  “Do you accept the terms of the wager? This, before all the people of the Canna?”

  “I accept the terms, Wizard. Make your peace with whatever gods you hold dear and pray that the beast is quick.” Aegone spat angrily.

  Less than a minute later, a phalanx of spearmen escorted me up the rickety steps to the prison wagon. Much to the delight of the crowd, I was unceremoniously shoved through the door. I heard the thick metal bolt slam through the receiver on the outside of the heavy-banded metal door, locking me inside. Naurakka looked up at me, panting, from her resting position on the floor and allowed herself a coughing chuff and a naughty drooling lick of the lips. The crowd outside was on its feet waiting with baited breath for the inevitable, and then the big cat put her head back down on her paws and appeared to doze off, completely unconcerned.

  With a shrug to the audience, I tucked my long piece of twine into one of my pockets, walked over and sat down next to the puma, leaning back against her sleek side. Naurakka made no move against me and actually started to snore loudly at one point about halfway through our time together.

  Right before, by my calculations at least, the end of the wagered time, Naurakka stood up abruptly. I could tell by the excited murmuring of the crowd that they were hoping this was the end of the bothersome wizard they had all been waiting for. But the big cat wasn’t interested in me. She looked out longingly through the bars, her tail swishing back and forth, and tilted her head as if trying to zero in on a particularly interesting sound in the forest beyond. I lazily watched her as I counted down the approximate time and added a little so that Aegone couldn’t claim I had cheated. Finally, I sighed, retrieved my miserable piece of string, and fashioned a crude collar for Naurakka. I don’t think the massive cat even noticed when I looped it around her neck; she was still focused on whatever she found so interesting outside. With a little tug, I drew her with me until we faced the door, and I called out to the chief of the Canna.

  “Chief Aegone, I call on you to honor the agreement you made and release us now.”

  The tall, pale elf adjusted his regal robes and, with his entourage in tow, walked haughtily up to stand within a few feet of the bars and laughed. “Fool! All your little display has achieved is to confirm what I already suspected.” He raised his arms and voice higher, playing to the crowd. “Everyone knows that Jag’uri are demon spawn and that they can only be truly killed with the cleansing power of fire. To treat with one in such as manner as you have convinces me that it is nothing more than your demon familiar! And it is you and your dead concubine who are responsible for tormenting our peace-loving people!”

  I was shocked, momentarily speechless, and probably looked really stupid holding a twelve foot man-eating cat by a child’s piece of twine in the middle of the cage.

  Chapter 15

  Aegone turned and addressed the youngsters still loitering around, “Hurry, quickly gather more firewood and tinder; we have two demons to burn!” The assembled green elves sprang into action to complete his orders. Not only did they refill the area under the wagon, but they brought whole dead pine saplings from out of the forest, tied them into bundles and tossed them up onto the roof. Ominously, more lit torches were also starting to make an appearance. Glancing at me, he motioned to a pair of archers nearby. “If the demon mage so much as lifts his arms to cast a foul spell, shoot him! Mind you, don’t kill him; his essence would escape and he would only return to cause more mischief. He must be kept alive until the cleansing fire takes him back to hell.” I watched in horror and fascination as the last of the dry tinder and combustibles were laid practically under my feet.

  “So this is what serves as honor and justice in the elf lands now?” I questioned aloud so that the assembled could hear. My voice was a few octaves higher than I would have liked, but oh well, I got the point across. “We have always heard in the army of Elcance that it was the dark elves that were to be feared, not the wise and gentle green elves!”

  “Oh, that is still an entirely accurate statement,” a female voice spoke clearly from somewhere far back of the crowd. Cries and murmurs rang out as the green elves frantically parted to the sides. From my high position in the back of the wagon, I had a perfect view of the newcomer…Ryliss? At least it looked like Ryliss, if she were carved by an expert rock mason out of black and white granite. On her shoulder perched a malevolent-looking raven which, if I recalled my battlefield lore, elves of all kinds dreaded as the creatures that inevitably carried their souls to the underworld. To have one here, so visible, would have been like someone sounding a death knell. The pair of them began to walk calmly forward toward the chief and our wagon behind him.

  Aegone’s eyes widened with fear and he was barely coherent, pointing at the newcomers. “Don’t just stand there, shoot the witch!” He screamed at the bowmen who had moved up to see what the entire ruckus was about. The raven took to the air with a squawk of displeasure as the archers loosed their arrows. Shaft after shaft struck Ryliss dead center, and each shattered impressively into
wood shards and feathers at her feet. It didn’t slow her in the slightest.

  With an evil gleam in his eye, Aegone snatched a burning brand from the hands of one of the awestruck young elves and tossed it contemptuously on the pyre circling our wagon. The flames caught at once, greedily racing through the loose tinder and dry twigs. “At least your demon lover will still burn, witch!” he screamed back at the Ryliss statue. A number of warriors ran up and hacked away with long swords and staffs at the stone figure still advancing unhurriedly. In each case, their swords or other weapons shattered upon impact, leaving the attackers holding nothing to fight with.

  “Bear her to the ground and clamp her in irons like last time!” a green elf sergeant growled to his troops. The well-ordered militia surrounded Ryliss like schoolboys vying for the attention of the class’ prettiest girl and flung themselves on top of her as she continued her unconcerned stroll. I watched in fascination as the dog pile shrunk and then collapsed as the stone girl seemed to melt away under the pile, only to rise up unscathed out of the ground a few feet farther along as if she never broke stride.

  By this time, Aegone was frantic as Ryliss was rapidly closing the distance. Even his staunchest personal guards were losing the will to stand up to this unstoppable force. A few more attempted to block her path and slash at her, but she didn’t even acknowledge their presence or attacks. She just left a trail of shattered metal and disbelief in her wake as she walked right on through them.

  It was getting uncomfortable where I stood; flames were starting to lick up and around the stout oak flooring of the wagon now. With the smoke and heat rising, it created a veil of hazy, sometimes inconsistent views from our vantage point. The cat, which had been remarkably stoic throughout all of this, began to pace wildly and utter whining noises. That’s when I remembered Ryliss’ story of how they had met. Naurakka was understandably afraid of fire.

  The guards who had orders to shoot me if I twitched were long gone. In fact, I’m pretty sure Rakka and I were totally forgotten in the mayhem as more drama was occurring outside. Screams of fear and dismay were echoing from the crowd in panicked waves. “The demon Jag’uri is loose…run!” Huh? I looked at my forlorn companion and she didn’t look loose or happy to me. Sticking my face against the bars, I waved enough smoke away for me to catch a glimpse of a long, black, sinuous form racing back and forth among the elves. It looked very much like the evil twin to Rakka, and I chuckled as it gave out a monstrous roar that I swear I felt vibrate up through the wagon wheels. Agitated, Naurakka answered with her own enthusiastic return.

  That was it for the Canna. An unstoppable stone creature and two Jag’uri in their midst, all of the women, children, and aged immediately fled to the safety of the forest, leaving their warriors to fight a retreating action. But most of them were without weapons and, ultimately, they turned and ran as well. Even the grand cathedral building wasn’t a refuge any longer and the chief’s wife and her retinue poured out, leaving the doors swinging open in the breeze.

  Inside the wagon, it was getting hotter and there were places where it looked like the floor was starting to char. Naurakka had given up and was panting hysterically on her side, trying to catch any kind of a cool breath. Flames were crawling relentlessly up the wooden front wall of the cage. I knew once they reached the dead pine bundles on the roof, the stored resin inside the wood would explode with fire, cooking us both from top to bottom. I had to do something!

  I drew together the magic for another gust since the last one had worked so well. The problem this time was one of angles; I couldn’t cast it through the heavy plank flooring. By the same token, I couldn’t get my arms far enough out of the cage to sweep the cast under the wagon like last time. Resolving to try anyway, I let it go. As I guessed, it wasn’t good at all; the cast ended up driving almost straight down into the knoll. The force of the blast kicked up a cloud of dirt and bucked up the front end of the entire wagon a couple feet before dropping it roughly and noisily back down. Sadly, it not only didn’t extinguish the flames, it seemed almost to fan them into extra intensity. Now the wagon and even the wheels were seriously on fire and I could barely breathe, much less see out.

  Dumbfounded, I just collapsed on the floor next to the mewling cat, coughing and concentrating on trying to breathe. That was when the realization hit me that I should have used my spell to knock the pine bundles off the roof instead…too late. But something else was knocking at the warped door of my consciousness… Oddly, my butt was bouncing up and down on the hard planks, and the floor we were sitting on seemed to be tilted. It was the same feeling I had experienced when I was taken from the tavern to Verledn’s castle…this burning wagon was moving!

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Ryliss

  Diori brought me back up to the surface world through a maze of tunnels and fissures in the rock face above the raging river. It wasn’t quite the homecoming to the sights and smells of the green earth I was expecting. I had been gone, I thought, for at least a week or more and I was concerned about Naurakka. Since the construct and I decided to start looking for Andi in the last place I saw her, the Canna village, it only seemed reasonable to arrive close by and reconnoiter. I felt a couple hundred yards was enough distance and would afford me the opportunity to change into bird form for the mission.

  We had exited out of a cleft in the side of the canyon wall and carefully scaled our way up to the top of the gorge. I was struck by the smell of wood smoke and crowd noise coming from the direction of the village. It was a long shot I knew, but I reached out to Rakka in my mind.

  “Mother?” A tenuous, frightened reply came back along with some kittenish mewling that I couldn’t even decipher. “Help me, Mother! There is fire and I am afraid!” It was all I could do not to leave Diori and run straight to my four-footed girl. Sending a message of promise, I quickly asked Diori to wait while I flew in to find my cat. The form of a swallow would do nicely.

  A frantically quick, wing-dipping flight brought me over the scene. The grand wooden structure I thought of as the Canna’s cathedral was still there, as was the large, deep bowl amphitheatre in front of it. The only major addition was a large freight wagon with an iron-barred cage in the back. The wall between the driver and the prisoners was solid as was the floor and the ceiling; the bars rose above the top of the roof creating a small rail around it. It was parked on top of a steep knoll directly across the bowl from the cathedral.

  There seemed to be a lot of smoke and haze from a recent fire, but no current flame other than a few lit torches. The area was full of the Canna: women, children, tradespeople, and, of course, warriors. They all seemed to be focused on whatever was in the wagon, waiting and watching. Darting down, I banked in close to the bars and nearly crashed into one of the female Canna when I saw what was inside. There was my cat, looking all matted and forlorn, and Kerrik leaning against her like she was a piece of furniture. I double-checked and the bolt to the cage was thrown, so they were definitely prisoners of some kind. I also spotted a very annoyed Aegone looking daggers at Kerrik from a few feet away.

  Flitting back, I found Diori standing exactly as I left her. She still looked like a stone version of me and I hoped to take advantage of that. I asked her once why she had taken that form and kept it, and she had replied that initially she wanted to appear non-threatening to me in order to gain my trust. But later, after we became friends, she decided she just liked it; it felt right to her. I suppose they do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

  “Ok, Diori, we have a problem…” The construct said nothing, just waited for me to explain. “They have my traveling companion, my Jag’uri, and the wizard, Kerrik, locked up in a prison wagon, and it looks like they are planning to barbecue them both.”

  “Barbecue? The elves are going to eat your friends?”

  “Figure of speech, sorry; I need a distraction to free them. How tough are you anyway, as in what would happen if someone shot you with an arrow?”

&
nbsp; “I am stone,” she said simply as if that said it all. I made a little hand gesture encouraging more and she added, “I am stone and a magical construct. To answer your question, it would assumedly take a powerful magical weapon or a potent spell to harm me in any way. However, I should warn you I was created to be a servant, not a warrior like the Lyandvaettr, so I am probably unsuitable for an offensive role in your plan. I have no skills in weaponry, and more importantly, I lack the “killer instinct” to harm others, except to preserve the life of my master or ward.”

  “What if all I need you to do is walk into the village, take the headman’s hand and not let go?” I grinned.

  “I could do that…the interaction should be interesting…my first party!”

  “Great, I’ll sit on your shoulder as a raven and do any talking that we need done. Hopefully, your appearance might frighten them enough to send them scurrying off to the woods.”

  The construct’s face took on a look of alarm as she cocked her head and, running her hands along her face, seemed to tactilely take stock of her countenance. “Ryliss, I have a question. Among the surface dwellers, is your appearance considered so heinous that you would normally expect to cause others to run away in fear?”

  “No, but they believe I am…‘inert’ as you would say...”

  “Dead,” Diori supplied, happily remembering our lesson.

  “Exactly, so to have my doppelganger walk, hopefully, unscathed through their village will cause them some dread and concern. You don’t have to do anything special, just smile and walk purposefully; I’ll do the rest.”

  A few minutes later, we strolled right into the elf village. Everyone’s attention was on the prison wagon so we were able to get within a few feet of the back of the crowd before anyone noticed. It appeared our timing was good as a number of the Canna youth were packing wood and dry tinder under and around the wagon. Some had even pulled dead young pines up out of the ground, bundled them together, and tossed them on top of the wagon. It appeared their intent was to create a pyre of unprecedented proportions. The whole episode was taking on the air of a festival or celebration, and it was making me increasingly mad.