by A. Giannetti
The Dwarf frowned darkly in return, no doubt reliving some of the pranks Elerian had played on him in the past. Before Ascilius could make any reply, a band of small children approached, first surrounding Elerian, then staring up at him with wide, dark eyes. Dressed in hooded tunics, they looked like smaller versions of the parents who were standing behind them.
“Please sir,” said one in a piping voice to Elerian. “Are you a magician?”
Elerian laughed, a sudden clear sound that lifted the hearts of those standing nearby. “I am a mage small sir,” he said gravely. “That is not quite the same thing.”
“Can you do any magic for us?” asked another of the children. She hid her face in her hood out of shyness when Elerian turned to look at her. Elerian looked at Ascilius in amusement.
“Shall I order them away?” asked Ascilius. “The little rascals ought to be in bed, not wandering about the camp.” His voice was stern but his eyes were twinkling.
“Please,” said another clear, high voice, “just one trick!”
“Just one then,” said Elerian gravely, “but afterwards you must be off to bed.” He thought for a moment and then turned to Ascilius. “Have you any coins?” he asked.
“No,” said Ascilius regretfully, “but perhaps my uncle has some.”
“I have a few,” said Eonis, reaching with obvious reluctance for a leather purse which hung from his belt. Elerian would not have been surprised to see a few moths flutter out when Eonis slowly opened it. The old king paused for a moment, no doubt trying to decide how few coins would satisfy Elerian’s request. He finally handed Elerian a dozen thin silver coins that gleamed softly in the starlight.
Laying the coins in the palm of his right hand, Elerian held them out for all the children to see. They gasped in wonder as one of the shining coins suddenly took flight, followed by another and then another until they chased each other in a silvery circle a little over a foot in diameter above Elerian's open palm. Then, one by one, they disappeared until none was left. The gasps of the children suddenly turned to subdued squeals of delight when he opened his left hand and cast the heap of silver coins that lay there into their midst. Out of the right corner of his eyes, Elerian saw a startled look cross Eonis’s face as his coins flew through the air. The old king sprang out of his chair, and for a moment, Elerian was almost certain that he was about to be treated to the sight of the old fellow scrambling for his coins among the lytlings, but with an agonized look on his face he sat down again.
“They are making too much noise,” complained Eonis to Ascilius as the children noisily jostled each other in their efforts to gather up the old king’s coins.
“Let them enjoy themselves, uncle,” replied Ascilius. “Who knows when the lytlings will have an opportunity to laugh again?” He watched tolerantly as the youngsters were finally taken off to bed by their parents.
Turning to Elerian, Eonis said in an irritated voice, “That was a good trick young man, but it would have been better if it had not cost me a dozen silver pennies. Consider them full payment for the aid you have given my people.” Glancing from Eonis to Ascilius, Elerian saw the Dwarf’s face darken at his uncle’s discourteous display of parsimony.
“Let us off to bed, Ascilius,” he said quickly. “Morning will come all too soon.”
“Yes, it is late,” said Ascilius, swallowing his anger. “Goodnight uncle,” he said shortly before walking off. Elerian hastened to follow him.
“Your hands will overflow with gold if ever I recover my treasure,” muttered Ascilius apologetically when Elerian reached his side. “My uncle had no right to treat you so shabbily.”
“Were he to insult me every day for a week, he still would not even the balance sheet between us,” said Elerian with a gleam of mirth in his eyes.
Ascilius suddenly laughed softly. “You are hard hearted as a Goblin to practice your trickery on an ancient like Eonis.”
“I take my opportunities where I find them,” replied Elerian serenely. “You would not say to a hungry panther, ‘Do not strike for the stag you wish to eat is old and deserves peace.’”
“I dare say that I would not, knowing that it would be a waste of breath,” replied Ascilius, with a smile. “Have something to eat with me,” he said after a moment. “We have both missed out supper today, I think.”
Leading the way to a supply wagon, Ascilius procured bread, cheese, dried fruit, and a bottle of red wine. The camp was quiet, but conscious of the many ears about, Ascilius selected an expanse of thick turf near the pony herd as a place to eat their meal. Surrounded by warm bodies, the air filled with the stamp of hooves and the tearing sounds made by the ponies as they cropped grass, the two companions had a modicum of privacy. Seated cross-legged on the ground, they ate and drank in friendly silence. Ascilius did serious damage to their food, but Elerian ate and drank lightly as was his custom.
“We have made a good beginning,” said the Dwarf when he had blunted his fierce appetite. “The caravan only needs to maintain its lead over the main army of the Goblins in order for my people to reach the safety of Iulius.”
“I hope that it will be that easy,” replied Elerian doubtfully. “This adventure of ours has taken many an unexpected turn.”
“We are through the worst of it,” insisted Ascilius confidently, for acting according to the dictates of his volatile nature, his mood had swung from somberness to optimism. Draining the last of his wine, he beamed at Elerian, his warm, winy smile providing a sharp contrast to his warlike appearance. “Let us rest while now we can. Even you must feel tired after today’s events.”
“I must retrieve my sword and shield first,” replied Elerian. “I left them in a tree south of this meadow in order to move more easily through the forest.”
“Why take such a risk now?” asked Ascilius disapprovingly. “At least wait until the sun rises.”
“I will be safe enough,” replied Elerian in an unconcerned voice. “I can always use my ring again if I encounter any Goblins.”
“Take this then in case your ring does not suffice to keep you out of trouble,” said the Dwarf handing Elerian a small horn with a silver mouthpiece and silver banding. “If I hear you wind this, I will come at once.”
“I am unlikely to need any help, but I will take your horn if it will ease your mind,” said Elerian obligingly as he slung the instrument’s leather strap over his left shoulder. Threading his way through the circled wagons with a light, silent step, he left Ascilius to seek out his blankets. The sentries guarding the outer ring of wagons shook their heads in disbelief as they watched Elerian enter the forest to the south of the meadow, for in their estimation, only a fool entered a wood full of Goblins alone at night.
Aware of the danger but not daunted by it, Elerian entered the gray and black world that was the forest at night. Ascending easily into the forest canopy, he ran lightly and silently down the length of one great branch after another, keeping close to the Dwarf road. It was almost first light when he reached the oak tree that held his gear, for he had taken many detours along the way, both to scout for signs of the enemy and to satisfy his curiosity. His found his sword and other gear where he had left them, at the junction of a wide branch and the main trunk of the tree, but he did not immediately pick them up.
“Having come this far, I may as well continue on a bit,” he thought to himself. “I do not share Ascilius’s confidence that the greatest danger is now past.”
Leaving his two knives behind on the branch with his other gear, Elerian cast a shape-changing spell, his body flowing into the familiar outlines of a gray, black barred hawk beneath the golden cloak of the charm. Spreading his wings, he leaped into flight, darting agiley through gaps between the branches overhead until he rose above the forest canopy which stretched away beneath him in all directions like a dark ocean of leaves. An urge to soar and hunt, born in the hawk part of his brain, pressured Elerian’s will, but he thrust it aside, holding firm to his original purpose. Flying high abov
e the Dwarf road, which was barely visible through the trees below him, he sped south, the wind of his passage smoothing his feathers and lifting him up like an invisible, supporting hand. To the east, the rising sun momentarily broke through the dark clouds that were gathering overhead. With his far seeing eyes, Elerian saw a single, bright pinpoint of light flash briefly on the western flank of far off Geminus.
“That must be the Goblin host,” he thought to himself. “They must surely have marched all night to have come so far, but they are still better than thirty miles away. It seems that Ascilius’s optimism is justified, for they are more than a full day’s march behind the wagons.”
Reassured, Elerian prepared to bank his wings and turn around, but a brief, shadowy flicker on the Dwarf road caught his attention. Flying farther south, he came upon a dark company traveling at a furious pace over the forest highway.
“An advance force,” thought Elerian to himself in dismay, for through gaps in the canopy below him, he briefly saw numerous Mordi in leather armor, all traveling light without packs or heavy gear, followed by the shaggy shapes of many mutare. On the shoulders of the road a mounted company of Urucs was visible through openings in the branches. No one paid any attention to Elerian as he soared overhead, for all in that dark company were intent on the road beneath their feet and their own weariness, for they had come a great distance in a short time.
“If they join with the Goblins already in the forest, they will have a host strong enough to overwhelm the Dwarves’ defenses if they overtake the wagons while they are strung out on the road,” thought Elerian to himself. “Ascilius must be warned of their approach as soon as possible.”
Deeply worried, he sped north, returning to the oak where he had left his gear. Darting through the canopy to the branch where he had left his things, he was met by the sight of Acer’s bright tip disappearing into a dark cavity in the trunk of the tree. Spreading his wings for balance, Elerian hopped to the opening and seized the blade with his beak. With a mighty backward tug that was aided by his flapping wings, he pulled his knife and the creature attached to it out into the open. Gripping Acer’s silver handle was a small, manlike creature about two feet high wearing brown pants and a green tunic. The indignant face he turned toward Elerian was nut-brown and had eyes black as currants. Although the creature’s ears were pointed like those of a Goblin, his eyes contained none of the cunning or malice endemic to that race.
“Let go, hawk!” shouted the manikin in a high, outraged voice. “I saw it first. It will make me a fine sword!”
With a tug and a twist of his neck, Elerian yanked his knife free of the creature’s slender, brown hands. Dropping the blade by his clawed feet, he cocked his head to the right, regarding the small thief with a curious, bright-eyed gaze.
“I seek only to reclaim what is mine,” replied Elerian in the common tongue, his hawk throat inflecting the words with notes that were both harsh and strident. The manikin almost tumbled backward at the sound of Elerian’s voice.
“A hawk has no need of steel,” replied the homunculus when he had overcome his initial surprise. “Sleep now and let me be!” he ordered, raising his left hand as he spoke.
With his third eye, Elerian saw a small golden orb leap from the tiny creature’s fingers. Opening his beak, Elerian cast a counter spell. The golden flare from the two spells countermanding each other had barely faded away before he cast a second charm, freezing the small manikin in his tracks.
“What are you?” demanded Elerian. “Answer truly and quickly or I will have you for my breakfast. I have no patience with thieves.” Loosening the magical bonds that held the creature’s mouth immobile, Elerian suggestively clicked his wickedly hooked beak.
“I am Tallanac, one of the Siogai,” replied the creature, a crafty expression entering his dark eyes. “Release me, bird, and I will reward you handsomely with a fat rabbit for your supper.”
“Where do you live?” asked Elerian, ignoring the offer of a bribe.
“Wherever I wish,” replied Tallanac, his expression suddenly turning both sullen and stubborn.
Elerian looked rather longingly at the round hole behind his tiny captive, wishing that he had more time to question the Siogai and perhaps explore the woody tunnel behind him, but he had already tarried longer than he ought to. He was on the point of releasing the manikin when Tallanac suddenly spoke again.
“If meat will not tempt you, then perhaps treasure will. Let me go and I will reward you with gold.”
“Go then,” replied Elerian, curious to see what Tallanac would do next. Ending the spell which held the Siogai captive, he watched warily as Tallanac raised his right hand. A small heap of gleaming gold coins suddenly appeared by the manikin’s tiny feet. Having fulfilled his promise, the Siogai spun on his right heel and hastily dove into his hole, the opening closing behind him with a sharp thump, so that no sign remained that the gap had ever existed. Opening his third eye, Elerian saw a swirl of green tinted light where the opening had been, a magical door which could be opened if one had the right spell. Turning his attention to the wicker basket, he saw the golden sheen of an illusion spell covering a small dark shape. Closing his third eye, Elerian watched as the illusion suddenly faded away of its own accord, revealing a small, dark coin made of rowan wood. Skillfully carved around its rim was a strange script which Elerian did not recognize, the writing worn as if the coin had passed through many hands over a period of long years. Smiling to himself, Elerian transformed himself back into his own shape.
“This could be a most useful gift,” he thought to himself as he picked up the wooden coin with his right hand. His smile widened as he imagined Eonis’s reaction to the sudden appearance of a heap of gold coins on the ground in front of him. Raising his right hand, Elerian sent the wooden coin to the place where he kept his spell book, watching with his third eye as a small orb of golden light conveyed it instantly through a tiny portal. Then, impatient to warn Ascilius that an outlier of the Goblin army was only a half day’s march behind the Dwarf caravan, he raced sure footedly north over the upper pathways of the forest.
GOBLIN WEATHER
By the time Elerian reached the burnt out way station, a sudden, light pattering on the leaves overhead signaled that the thickening clouds had begun to drop their burden of rain. The meadow near the inn was empty, but running tirelessly from branch to branch, Elerian soon overtook the Dwarf caravan, running out of sight through the forest to the right of the wagons until he reached the head of the line. There he found Ascilius maintaining a slow, steady trot on the right side of Eonis's wagon, his cloak drawn tightly around him as a protection against the rain. A relieved look appeared on his face when he saw Elerian, but his rugged features took on a grim cast when Elerian told him of what he had seen on the road behind them.
“It would seem that fortune as well as the weather has turned against us,” said Ascilius dourly. “If the company you saw overtakes us before we reach the Caldus, all is lost. We cannot fight them in the forest where they are strongest.”
“I will stay behind with a company of volunteers to delay the Umbrae while you go on with the wagons, Ascilius,” said Eonis surprisingly and unexpectedly from his seat on the lead wagon. “If you destroy the bridge over the river once you cross over, our people may yet reach Iulius ahead of the enemy.”
“The Goblins would not stop to fight you, uncle,” said Ascilius gloomily. “They would flow around your force like water around a rock in a stream, for the wagons are their primary prey. Our only hope is to get on as fast as possible. No matter what happens today, we cannot stop the caravan, for the slightest delay puts everyone at risk.”
Ascilius had barely ceased to speak when the sudden sharp crack of lightning arcing across the leaden sky filled the air. Moments later, the rolling boom of thunder caused the ponies to whinny and toss their heads. The light rain turned into a heavy downpour, drawing a gray curtain over everyone and everything.
“This accursed rain will
cost us dearly,” said Ascilius grimly to Elerian as they trotted beside Eonis’s wagon. “We shall pay in grief for every mile we travel today.”
Ascilius’s gloomy prediction proved all too accurate. Dwarf horns trumpeted alarm after alarm along the line of wagons as, under cover of the rain, Goblins launched a series of quick attacks from one end of the column of wagons to the other. Most of the violence was directed against the ponies, the Mordi shooting them with arrows from the cover of the forest in an effort to stop the caravan. The shrill squeals of the poor beasts that were injured continually rent the air. The moment the Dwarves rallied to defend their beasts, the Wood Goblins faded back into the forest to strike somewhere else.
The canigrae that suddenly leaped through the curtain of rain shrouding the forest were even more deadly and disruptive. Dashing in between the Dwarf guards, they slashed at the ponies’ sides and flanks in an effort to panic them. Each time a wagon was overturned or dragged sideways by the frightened beasts, the caravan was forced to stop while horns blew in the forest, summoning the Wood Goblins hidden there. Attacking in force, they slew the guards who opposed them before breaking into the wrecked wagons and dragging off any Dwarf women and children they found there. When Dwarf warriors appeared in force, the Mordi fled into the forest, preferring to retreat rather than fight a pitched battle.
Elerian followed Ascilius from one end of the line of wagons to the other, running to answer the calls of the Dwarf horns, but each time they arrived at an ambush, the damage was already done and the Goblins were gone. Instead of fighting, they spent their time helping grim faced Dwarves drag the wreckage of wagons or the still bodies of slain ponies from the road so that the caravan could go on.
Then, as they ran south along the road during a lull in the rain, a pack of canigrae suddenly sprang out of the forest on their right, attacking a team of ponies in front of them. Before either Elerian or Ascilius could lift so much as a finger, the frightened ponies pulled the wagon sideways in an effort to escape the savage beasts worrying their flanks. Black arrows hissed through the air from the trees, slaying the driver and the guards along the perimeter of the road. As the canigrae tore out the throats of the two ponies, the wagon they were pulling slowly tipped over onto its right side, bringing the caravan behind it to a stop. Goblins clad in rain slicked black leather immediately ran out of the forest on both sides of the road, some of them engaging Ascilius and Elerian while others swarmed over the wagon. Out of the left corners of his eyes, Elerian saw a pair of Mordi attempt to pry open a wagon door with their sword tips.
