by David Adams
“Weapons!” Demetrius shouted. “But do not halt! Charge through them!” He glanced back, seeing a tide of dwarves coming up behind. “We cannot go back.”
Some of the dwarves to the riders’ front won the race, their axes gleaming in the afternoon light. But they were few, and could form only a thin line.
Lucien let out a war cry, which the others added to with calls of their own. The dead confronting them were in various states of decomposition, some no more than bone, others with withered skin and hair that made them look nearly alive. All wore looks of malice and dread intent.
The horses and their riders came into violent contact with their foes. Axes, warblades, and swords flashed, and there was a sound like metal thunder.
Alexis’ horse was the strongest and swiftest, and had carried her easily through the narrow line while Alexis knocked down a pair of dwarves with her spear. She pivoted in time to see Tala’s horse spring to safety, while Rowan and Demetrius hacked their way clear.
Lucien’s warblade was swift and sure, and he put four dwarves out of the fight. But their axes had found their mark as well, hacking at the horse that carried him, and it wavered beneath him. He leapt free just before his mount tumbled to the ground, from where it would not rise again. As it fell, its legs tangled with those of Corson’s steed and knocked it off balance. Corson, leaning to strike at a dwarf, was unseated. His horse bounded clear of the melee, but Corson and Lucien had been brought to ground, just as their foes had desired.
Hundreds of dwarves closed in, while thousands more marched toward them, but for now Lucien and Corson faced only a dozen opponents, and those had been scattered by the charge of the riders. Corson took a quick hack at the nearest foe and was prepared to flee on foot, but Lucien, overcome by instinct, held his ground and was ready to take on any dwarf that came within reach of his warblade.
Corson saw those still mounted were preparing another charge, but he saw the folly of that and shouted at them to stay back. He grabbed at Lucien’s arm and yelled, “We must go!”
“I hold them,” Lucien said, his warblade singing through the air, striking down two more dwarves.
“You can’t defeat them all. Solek wishes you to stand and fight—and die.” Corson swung his sword wildly, missing his target but slowing its progress. “If you kill a thousand it is no loss to him. It is our lives he seeks.”
Lucien battled on, Corson’s words heard but not acknowledged. A rain of bolts swept in, doing little damage but portending more to come. Regardless of what Lucien thought of his skill against the axes of the dead dwarves, he could do little against distant crossbows. He finally yielded and ran with Corson toward their companions.
Tala and Demetrius urged their horses forward, helping Lucien and Corson, respectively, up onto their mounts. The horses strained under the added weight, but bore them away at good speed, their terror at seeing the advancing army of the dead overcoming the protests of their taxed muscles.
“We can gain some distance before the horses will need rest,” Alexis called over the sound of thundering hooves. “They can do much when it is required.”
A look back revealed that the dwarves, cheated of their prey for now, had ordered themselves and begun to march in pursuit. Neither pursuers nor pursued had any doubts the riders were safe for a time—dwarven legs, no matter how sturdy, were no match for horses.
Corson’s horse rejoined them, and they wound their way closer to the river, searching the mountains and foothills for any further sign of activity. They kept up a swift, steady pace, the horses being asked to take turns bearing the extra rider. They paused only for a quick evening meal, mainly to let their steeds rest for a short time, then put a few more miles between themselves and their pursuers before they made camp for the night in a rocky glen. They set the watch, and then wound themselves tightly in their cloaks, unable to ward off the cold with a campfire that would give their position away.
Corson struggled to find sleep. He tried to stretch the soreness out of his muscles while prone, but after a time he gave way to the aches and restlessness and rose.
Demetrius had the first watch, and he looked mainly to the east.
“No sign of them, I take it,” said Corson.
“No. The Dead Legion is tireless though. They do not rest at night. If they follow us still, they are closing the gap, although I think it will be well after dawn before they reach this place.
“You think they’re still pursuing us?”
Demetrius shrugged. “Perhaps. But if the Dark One can raise such an army at will, he may let that one lie and raise another before us. And despite our quest, and the Mist we have encountered, it still may have been no more than chance that we were there when they issued from their mountain tombs. They may be heading to Arna’s Forge, or they may have some other task.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“No,” Demetrius said with a small laugh. “But I’d like to hope that we haven’t become Solek’s top priority.”
“That would have a tendency to shorten our life spans.”
“You have an interesting way of putting things.”
“I’ll take that as compliment, since they’re hard to come by.”
Silence settled over the conversation, each man keeping to his own thoughts. They looked out over what appeared to be a peaceful night, wispy clouds passing overhead, insects calling to one another. If only they did not know what was out there, that peace might have settled over them.
“Back at that cave…” Corson struggled to continue.
“We all came close to disaster,” Demetrius said, trying to sound reassuring.
“I was sure you were dead. If I had to carry on alone…I’m not sure I could deal with it.”
Demetrius stopped surveying the landscape to look at his friend. “None of us are equipped to do this alone. But you were going to try, weren’t you?”
Corson nodded.
“As any of us would. It is all we have left, the hope that the Sphere can heal the wounds the Dark One has inflicted on Arkania.” Demetrius continued to study the younger man and then laughed.
“What?”
“I remember the pranks you used to play when we were younger. There is still a part of you that would just as soon stick a lit torch in the seat of Solek’s pants as run him through with a sword.”
“Well, the torch would have its advantages. It certainly would be a sight to see him hop around his throne with his britches on fire.”
“And you’d be the one to place it, just as you’ll use your sword if the moment comes. I remember our youth, but my friendship with the man is what matters. These are good folk we travel with, but I’m glad you’re here to cover my back.”
“And you mine.”
Demetrius looked back to the horizon again, his usual reserve returning. “You’d better get some sleep before your watch. We’ll have another long day tomorrow.”
Corson gave Demetrius a soft pat on the back, and then moved away to try to get some rest.
Chapter 5: The Nest
The night passed without incident, and there was no sign of the dwarves in the heavy morning mist that had settled in the valley.
“Fog not good,” Lucien grumbled.
“We will ride close,” said Rowan. “Keep a sharp eye.”
“Enemy on us before we see.”
“But their eyes cannot pierce this any better than ours. It will provide us some cover, even when we travel in the open.”
“Regardless, let us be away,” Alexis said. “I will feel better when we reach Lorgras.”
There was no hint of pursuit through the morning, nor of any spies or attempts to cut them off. But the Mists and the Dead Legion remained always in their thoughts, a subtle itch that could not be scratched away. The weather turned colder, and the clouds hung heavy and low, such that when the fog finally lifted that is precisely what it seemed to do, if only by a small distance.
Their steeds proved up to the test ag
ain, and the miles passed quickly. The riders looked often to the Trawnor Mountains to the north, which were still shrouded in cloud, trying to sight the end of the range, the place where they could turn north into Lorgras. Night fell before they reached that point, and they spent one last night in the Valley.
The weather continued to worsen the next day, snow flurries fluttering about on the wind and powdering the ground. They lamented the fact that their passage would now be apparent as would the direction they headed, but Lucien and Tala took advantage of the same phenomena to quickly catch some small game. They braved a noon fire and enjoyed warm hands and warm food.
They were able to turn north by mid-afternoon, taking one last untrusting look at the Trawnor Mountains and the tombs hidden there. Then they turned their attention forward, to the plains that opened up before them.
“We will pass into my home land soon, although we also claim the lands we have traveled in for the last several days,” said Alexis. “Solek’s treachery has made the land ill and scattered the people, but what welcome and aid we can ask for we will have.” She looked at Tala. “We will do well to travel as little as possible in the forest. Can you tell how far away the shard is, and in what direction?”
Tala said that she could. “Well enough to allow us to pick the best place to enter the forest.”
“The southern edge of the woods comes near to the northern edge of the Trawnor. If we keep going straight north we will reach it within hours.”
Taking the cue, Tala reined in her horse and took the fractured section of the Soul Sphere from her pouch. The others waited patiently while she entered her spell-induced meditative trance.
Tala looked grim when she was done. “The shard is some two hundred miles away, almost directly north. If I remember the layout of the forest correctly, we might pass fewer miles in the woods if we skirt the forest’s edge until our goal is directly east. Even then, we are looking at a significant journey within the Great Northern Forest.”
“That should come as no surprise,” said Rowan. “The Dark One does not desire anyone to have easy access to the shards.”
“That is so,” Alexis replied. “But every mile traveled outside those dark woods is a mile better traveled. We’ll try the route Tala suggests.”
They moved to the northwest, and before night fell the Great Northern Forest came into view. The trees were old, tall and gnarled, their limbs intertwining to give the forest a ceiling through which little light could penetrate, even on the brightest day. Just to look upon that grim wood would send a chill down the spine of the bravest soul.
“I have seen no signs of settlements,” Demetrius said to Alexis. “Your people do not live near the forest?”
Alexis shook her head. “Most live west, along the Wandering River, or to the far north, in the great city of Lumia or by the sea.”
“Does anything ever venture from those woods? Any raids on your lands?”
“I have never heard of any creature that dwells within braving the world beyond the wood. And few enter in.”
“If that Mist wants to watch us from those trees, we’ll never see it.”
“I fear many things may watch us unseen from the dark depths of the forest.”
“As long as all they do is watch,” Corson offered, “we’ll have no problem.”
They traveled three days before Tala indicated it was time to turn east, time to face the woods. Those new to the land said nothing to Alexis about the paleness of the grass and the unnatural, dull gray color of the soil. They had already seen the change in their own lands, as if the malice and hatred of Solek and his minions had worked its way right into the very ground. Each of the riders had wondered privately what would happen when spring arrived, here and in the places they called home. Would crops grow? Would flowers color the fields and brighten tended gardens? And if they failed in their quest, would it matter? For who then would plant the fields and gardens?
When they came within a mile of the forest Alexis called them to a halt and told them to dismount and gather up what gear they needed. “We cannot take the horses with us. The trees grow too close, the footing is unsure, and there will be no forage.”
“There is little enough for them here,” Rowan said as he lifted a pack from his horse.
“They will be of little help to us in these woods, and I will not sacrifice them for nothing. Here they will be of more use.” Before the others could ask what she meant by this, she began to whisper into her horse’s ear. When she finished, she looked him in the eye and rubbed his nose affectionately. She lifted her bedroll from behind the saddle, and then set the horse on his way with a pat on the shoulder. The other horses dutifully followed after their burdens had been lightened.
“They will find other horses and patrol the edge of the forest, awaiting our return.”
“Your animals continue to amaze,” said Demetrius. “Was it our tongue you spoke to them?”
“Not quite, but not theirs, either. We do not refer to them as beasts here, nor do we ask them to labor on farms or pull carts unless they agree to it. They allow us to ride at need, and will aid a just cause. They understand what it is we seek to do, and will continue to be our allies in the quest.”
The travelers watched the horses saunter away, eyeing them with newfound respect. Their gazes lingered on the animals for a time, but eventually turned as they must to the dark wood that confronted them.
“Go now,” Lucien said. He stepped forward and took the lead, not waiting to see if any of the others would protest.
They passed into the shadow of the trees as if crossing a threshold into another world. Here at the fringe the trees were narrow and grew close together, scrub brush and shallow roots making the travelers step carefully. Light faded quickly only a few feet in, and although they could still see, they lit a torch to push back the darkness, which seemed to want to swallow them whole.
“I can provide light with magic if we run short of torches,” Tala offered.
“We have a dozen,” said Demetrius. “Save your energy. It may be needed.”
There was little to guide them as they worked their way deeper into the wood. The sky above was hidden beyond the forest canopy, such that even telling night from day was going to be difficult. They cut their own path, Tala checking now and then to see that they remained on course by using the partial Sphere and her finding spell.
Of what might dwell in this place they heard and saw little, just an occasional rustling in the area ahead indicating something small moving away at their approach. If anything lived in the trees above, it remained still and silent.
Now and then a small clearing on the forest floor gave them brief respites from the closeness of the trees and the deeper shadows, and when they were lucky they even got a glimpse of the sky. They took food and what little rest they could when they found these rare spots. When they decided it was time to sleep they set the watch such that they worked in pairs.
Whether it was actually morning or not when they set out again none of them could say—the darkness and their tired bodies said otherwise, but it was a futile argument regardless. They had passed a few hours in relative peace when movement to their right caught their attention, a cracking twig and a few vibrating branches that marked the recent passage of some living thing.
Lucien sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing. He simply nodded as the others looked toward him—something was still there.
Now there were more sounds, soft and easily missed if not listened for, to their left and rear as well as to their right. They slowed and drew their weapons.
“Stay close,” said Demetrius. “We can fight better if we cover each others’ flanks.”
A quick eye could now catch shadows moving between the trees in short energetic bursts. Whatever was out there had lost interest in concealing its collective presence—there were clearly a half-dozen of them, perhaps many more, but they stayed clear of the dim light of the torch, either because of fear or simply to remain unseen.
“Should we find ground to make a stand?” Alexis whispered. “A small clearing if we can reach one?”
“I would think so,” said Demetrius. “They are either driving us or waiting to attack until the right moment. If we can choose the ground, so much the better.”
“I agree,” Lucien said in a low rumble.
Their steps became more cautious and measured, their pursuers pacing them and keeping just enough distance to stay out of sight. Ahead, they spotted a small space between trees that was without much brush—not large enough to be called a clearing, but it would have to do.
They formed a small circle, their backs toward the center so they could face into the woods all around them. Alexis quickly made a small hole in the ground with her spear, into which she placed the torch. The flickering flame made their shadows dance on the gnarled trunks of the nearest trees.
Their pursuers began to circle, none approaching but none going away either. From time to time a low growl or heavy breath was audible over the crackle of the torch.
The creatures began to test, darting a bit closer then dancing away, their movements coordinated and often coming from opposite directions.
Demetrius bit off a curse. “Wolves,” he announced.
“Well fed, from the looks of them,” Corson added. They were larger than any wolf any of the travelers had ever encountered, standing beyond waist-high to a man even when trotting on all fours.
“They will attack soon,” said Rowan. “We must strike quickly when they do. If they get on top of us…”
“How many do you think?” asked Demetrius.
“Six to eight,” Rowan replied.
“No,” said Tala, her sharp gray eyes focused deeper in the woods. “They circle in two rings. There are at least fifteen.”
Lucien moved forward a half-step. “Hit next that moves near.”
“Stay your hand, goblin warlord,” growled a voice even more guttural than Lucien’s. Stepping into the light was a gigantic wolf, his face nearly level with Lucien’s, his yellow eyes blazing with a hungry, internal fire. “All who enter my realm become our prey unless I say otherwise.”
