“Once it starts you will have little time to think about the fear.” quipped the Elf. “It is no different than a hunt. You’ve hunted by bow before, haven’t you?”
Kael nodded in return..
“Think of the Ulrog as nothing more than prairie deer.” said Eidyn. “Remember to breathe when you draw the bow. Most novices forget to breathe.”
Vieri put a hand on Granu’s shoulder then pointed to the shoreline opposite their position. A small, dark figure slipped from the deeper water upstream and crept into the Northern brush line behind the Ulrog.
Sprig shivered and clenched his teeth. The Frizgard flowed from the melting snow tops of the Scythtar and the Sprite fought hard to get feeling back into his limbs. The Seraph sat mid river challenging the Ulrog to come forward. Sprig slid a long thin tube and a leather pouch from the folds of his tunic. He carefully opened the pouch and removed several small, feathered darts.
Eidyn notched an arrow onto his bowstring and raised it.
“I will take those on the far side of Lord Ader. I require that you manage those few closest to us.” stated Eidyn. “Make the first strike count and you will achieve the desired effect. The remainder of your shots will be fast and furious. They may tend to stray from their targets, but the Ulrog will slow in confusion.”
Kael nodded and slowly raised his bow.
The Ulrog Hackles approached within four yards of the Seraph. A few more spears were hurled from the ranks hesitating on the riverbank. Tarader expertly sidestepped their flight. The Ulrog Hackles closest to the Ader rushed forward. Immediately a wall of green flame sprung up and pulsed outward, slamming the attackers into the swirling Frizgard. Those on the shoreline roared in anger and loped into the river.
“They will approach more cautiously.” said Eidyn to Kael. “As they slow, we will have an easier first shot.”
The Elf raised an arrow beside his eye and stared down its long smooth shaft. Kael glanced to Eidyn and followed his lead. The Southland boy chose a large Ulrog closest to their hiding place. The beast circled wide of the Seraph, attempting to get behind Ader. As it moved, it drew closer and closer to Kael.
“Ready ........... Now.” said Eidyn, calmly releasing the arrow from his fingertips.
Kael heard the high pitched twang of Eidyn’s longbow a moment before his own. He kept an eye on the progress of his own black feathered shaft as his right hand automatically retrieved another from the quiver slung on his back.
Ader sat on the back of his giant horse surveying the movements of nearly three dozen Ulrog Hackles. He hoped Eidyn noticed the rather large one attempting to slide toward his rear. The Seraph was acutely aware of his weakness at this point. Any priests commanding these packs would hang in the tree line away from the fighting. Once Ader demonstrated who he was, the priests would act. They were his true challenge. If he wasted any energy on these lumbering henchmen, he would drain himself before being challenged by the priests and their Chaotic powers.
A broad shouldered Ulrog wielding a jagged edged pike trod uncomfortably close to his left. This Ulrog was one of the group he knocked into the water. The beast was probably emboldened by the limited damage it received from Ader. It was obviously unaware the Seraph used restraint in his first attack.
Ader was contemplating another wall of flame when a sharp twang echoed through the river basin. The jagged pike fell into the Frizgard and its owner roared in agony, clutching the black fletching on an arrow protruding from its throat. Another loud roar and a thrashing of water to his right. Ader’s eyes shot toward the noise. The large Hackle attempting to flank him lay in the current tearing at an arrow lodged in his chest. Instantly, a flash of black shot past the Seraph and found the leg of an Ulrog carrying a large cleaver and crouching several yards in front of Tarader.
“Ader tries to conserve his strength.” grunted Cefiz from inside the hiding place. “The Elf deals with the Hackles. The Seraph must deal with the priest’s of Amird.”
As if on cue, three enormous Ulrog crashed through the northern brush line. They each wore the rough black robes of the priests of Amird. Their bare arms were crisscrossed with the chaotic symbols and scarred with the engraved name of their lord. The largest of the three carried an enormous onyx blade and bellowed praise to his maker. The blade immediately burst into red flame which spread across the body of its holder and the trio splashed into the rushing shallows. Steam hissed from each footstep as they closed on the Seraph.
Ader raised his hands and began his own soft prayer. Green light pulsed and surged about his fingertips. His body seemed to grow in proportion as the brilliance of the green light danced on the sparkling water.
The Ulrog Hackles midstream divided their attention between Kael’s hiding spot and the glowing Seraph. Frantically they searched the tree line for the source of the deadly barrage of arrows, but could not afford to fully divert their attention from Ader. Kael notched another shaft and quickly took aim at the huge Ulrog priest covered in red flame.
“Do not waste your shots!” snapped Eidyn. “You cannot harm the priests. The power of Chaos acts as a shield about them. Leave them to Ader.”
The largest of the Ulrog priests stomped past one of his spear wielding underlings. Kael shifted his focus onto the spear carrier and released the arrow. The shaft whistled through the cold mountain air and slammed into the head of the Ulrog, its steel tip cracking the beast’s skull and burying itself deep inside. The spear fell and the Ulrog soundlessly toppled forward into the Frizgard.
The head priest marched on, oblivious or uncaring of his comrade’s demise. The onyx blade rose on high, sparking and crackling with the crimson power of Chaos. The priest trudged to within a stride of Ader when the ground trembled and the air burst with green light. Water, rock and green flame erupted around the three priests and they were lost from Kael’s view. Several Hackles standing near the priests were also caught in the conflagration. Shards of rock sprayed the tree line where Kael and Eidyn remained hidden. Kael ducked and covered his head with his free hand.
Steam and smoke slowly dissipated from the crossing. Kael’s head came up and he stared as the haze thinned. The head priest stood alone, channeling his red flame into a wall which surrounded him. His pair of compatriots lay several paces back in the current of the Frizgard.
One of these took a moment then stirred. He rose then began a chant. His partner remained motionless in the current of the river. The subordinate moved forward and drew a cleaver that immediately burst into flame. A shield of crimson fire spread across his body adding extra security to his already formidable hide.
“Chose another mark.” hissed Eidyn over the noise of the rapids.
Kael tore his eyes away from the scene mid river, and quickly notched another arrow. Ulrog Hackles slowly began closing on the Seraph again. Most of the enemy gave up searching for the archers hidden in the forest. They were well aware the true prize sat on a giant stallion within their reach.
Sprig shot through the woods on the north side of the Frizgard. He encountered no Hackles held in reserve. As far as he could determine, the entire force guarding the crossing engaged Ader at the river. If the Seraph could draw the Ulrog South, the doorway to the Scythtar would be wide open for the Keltaran prince. The Sprite completed his arc through the woods, then hid himself, waiting for the signal.
The head priest roared in triumph at the ineffectiveness of Ader’s attack. With two giant strides he was upon the Seraph. The onyx blade rent the air, crackling toward Ader. Tarader whinnied and the Seraph raised his hands. A wall of flame sprang up around horse and rider. The flaming black blade met the wall. Flame battled flame, hissing and popping.
Kael was stunned to see the blade remain engaged as the head priest levered pressure against it. The boy expected to see the blade bounce back, repelled by the green wall. The subordinate priest shuffled to the side of his leader and hacked at the green wall with his sputtering cleaver.
Kael and Eidyn worked feverishly with the
ir bows. More and more Ulrog trotted in from the shoreline and crowded around the glowing form of Ader. Kael began to lose faith in the Ader’s plan. There were too many Ulrog. They moved too quickly. Many of the boy’s shots missed their mark and fell ineffectively into the churning waters of the river.
The Ulrog bunched together around the Seraph, hacking at the thin green wall of flame. Ader didn’t seem as imposing. The wall showed the rents and tears Kael remembered seeing in the Nagur, when Ader lost his strength against the Malveel. The Southland boy notched an arrow and tried to find a target. He could easily fire into the crowd surrounding Ader. Odds were in his favor that the shaft would find an Ulrog, but there remained a chance it could slip through and find Ader. He turned and eyed Eidyn. The Elf notched another arrow and waited what seemed like an eternity before he released it.
“We risk striking the Seraph as his power wanes.” stated Eidyn. “I’m uncertain how much strength the ancient one has left.”
The Elf quickly slung his bow and drew his gleaming sword. Kael’s eyes widened in surprise. He too slung his bow as Eidyn crept forward toward the crossing. Did the Elf really intend to charge to Ader’s aid?
Cefiz cursed and drew his pair of short swords. The Guardsman edged past Granu. The giant’s hand shot out and firmly grasped Cefiz’s shoulder.
“All is not lost yet, my friend.” rumbled Granu. “Give the Seraph a few moments longer. He may surprise you.”
The Ulrog were in a complete frenzy. They howled and roared as they beat on the flaming green wall surrounding Ader and his stallion. The stately horse whinnied and threw its head, but its body remained stock still. Sweat poured down Ader’s brow as he concentrated heavily on maintaining the wall. Tattered holes and widening rips shifted across the wall’s surface as Ader channeled power toward different locations to stop the damage. As the strength of the wall diminished, the frenzy of the Ulrog built.
Gnarok, the ranking priest of the Fendi Ulrog could sense triumph. The Seraph unleashed his mightiest power first. Now the old one could only protect himself. Escape was impossible. The packs surrounded the Seraph. Gnarok wanted the glory of the kill for himself. The rain of arrows stopped. Whatever support the Seraph relied upon fled as his situation deteriorated. The priest roared with laughter. His stony hide would protect him from any remaining stray arrow shots. The red flame around Gnarok’s body flickered and waned and he channeled all his power into the giant onyx blade he held above the Seraph.
Ader’s brain ached. His arms hung by his sides. He was exhausted.
The Seraph prayed for patience. He needed his timing to be exact. The lead priest’s desire for personal glory would soon overpower any caution remaining in his thoughts.
Suddenly, the shield of red flame shimmering around the body of the priest dissipated and the onyx blade raged into a wild inferno above the priest’s head. Ulrog priests were so predictable thought Ader. All avarice , pride and conceit. The Seraph’s hands shot into the air.
“Avra!!!!!!!” shouted Ader.
A concentrated ring of brilliant green flame erupted from Ader and sprang outward smashing into the heads of the Ulrog encircling him. Kael and Eidyn covered their eyes from the intensity of the light. Ulrog Hackles were thrown into the stream all about the Seraph. The lead priest was sent sprawling several yards in front of Tarader, clutching his flaming face. His subordinate had not fully removed his shield of Chaotic fire. He was knocked backward but remained standing. At least one third of the Hackles lay motionless in the current of the Frizgard, or writhing in agony trying to extinguish the burning green flame that clung to their bodies and heads.
Sprig heard the signal from Ader and immediately sprang from his hiding place, racing toward the crossing.
Gnarok screamed in agony. He stared through blinding green light at his flaming hands. The Seraph tricked him, feigning weakness but holding back enough to inflict pain. The Ulrog grunted. He was familiar with pain. Pain from the day he was created for the glory of Amird in the frozen North. Pain from the moment the razor sharp claws of the Malveel carved open his hide to create the mark of Amird. Gnarok existed with pain. Pain would not hold him from glorifying Amird through the death of the Seraph.
The priest slowly dragged himself to his feet. The sparking flame encasing his charred face and hands died out. Gnarok beheld the Seraph slumped forward on his beast of burden. Green flame no longer surrounded the Light Wielder. Ader DeHartstron drew an ancient sword covered in symbols. This old one gambled, using all his power in one last effort to defeat Gnarok and the Hackles. The gamble failed. Gnarok bent forward and retrieved his onyx blade from the rushing water of the accursed Frizgard. The priest was weak, but he called upon the powers of Chaos and a small, shimmering red flame encased the blade. Gnarok smiled. This would be enough to finish the weakened Seraph.
“What does he wait for?” hissed Cefiz. “The lead priest revives! Ader must flee ...!”
The Guardsman halted. A tiny, dark figure dashed from beneath the pines on the northern bank. It sped across the rocky shoreline, focusing on the Seraph at mid river. The huge Ulrog priest rumbled forward shouting foul expletives at Ader, completely unaware of the tiny figure’s movements behind him.
Eidyn slammed his blade back into its sheath and backed from the tree line’s edge.
“We must go.” said the Elf as he spun past Kael and headed toward his stallion.
Kael furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced from Eidyn back to the scene at mid river. Ader just sat on his mount as the Ulrog priest advanced.
“Kael! We must leave. Now!” shouted Eidyn from behind the boy.
Kael took one last look at the Seraph then turned and fled the tree line.
Gnarok savored his victory. Sulgor would be pleased with his creation. The Malveel lord would exalt Gnarok above all other priests. He would be given command of more Hackles and advance the glory of Amird.
The haggard old man sat staring at Gnarok as the Ulrog moved forward. Several of the other Hackles unaffected by the green flame of Ader were gaining courage and moving toward the Seraph once more. Gnarok saw his second, Hnarg, silently stalking forward.
“Gnish, far rolg!” barked Gnarok.
Immediately his underling halted and slunk away from the Seraph. No one would steal the glory of Gnarok. The old man sat expressionless. He had wasted himself. The Seraph even lacked the strength to raise his weapon in defense.
The diminutive figure dashed down the northern bank. He raced into the shallow water, a blur in the darkness. Sprig raised the sturdy length of hollow rimshar toward his lips.
Hnarg cursed to himself. He should have rushed the Seraph and finished him before Gnarok found the opportunity to recover. The Seraph fire weakened Gnarok, but now was not the time to challenge the high priest. Gnarok was still too powerful. Hnarg hadn’t learned all of the lead priest’s secrets yet.
The subordinate priest stood in the shallow water, brooding with resentment. The Hackles halted, fully aware that Gnarok desired the glory of the kill.
Gnarok stood one full stride from the Seraph. The onyx blade smoldered in his hands. The Voice of Avra sat hunched in the saddle, his eyes bore into Gnarok, filled with defiance.
“You die tonight, Seraph!” grated Gnarok’s rough voice.
Avra’s chosen smiled at the priest! Gnarok filled with rage and raised his blade. Had the Seraph gone mad! Ader DeHartstron sat motionless staring past Gnarok toward the northern bank of the Frizgard.
Hnarg knew he too would share in the glory of Gnarok. As Gnarok’s second, Hnarg would also gain command of many of the Hackles Gnarok gathered to his banner. All of this came as little consolation. Hnarg missed his opportunity and would regret serving under Gnarok.
A gray flash sped past him. The Ulrog was stunned. What...?
Sprig blew hard into the rimshar. The long, thin dart exited the tube with a loud pop.
Alarm registered in the evil mind of Gnarok. What did the Seraph see that amused him so? This
old man concealed one more trick. The Ulrog heard an unusual noise behind him and felt a prick in the pit beneath his raised arm. He glanced down to see a small dart with multicolored fletching protruding from the side of his chest. His rocky brow furrowed in confusion.
Hnarg shouted in warning to the lead priest, but it was to late. The tiny figure attacked. Gnarok clumsily ran his free hand along his side attempting to knock a small, brightly colored dart from beneath his arm . His awkward efforts only succeeded in driving the dart further into his hide.
Sprig deftly reloaded the rimshar reed and charged hard toward Tarader. The Ulrog priest fumbled with the blow dart lodged in its hide, then broke off his attempts as he spied the Sprite charging toward him.
“Dar fu! Almu!” cursed the Ulrog as the poisons flowed through its body.
This Ulrog was strong, thought Sprig. The Sprite used nearly half of the precious Reas poison in his pouch and still the beast stood. Sprig took delight in his prowess with the rimshar. His shot was true, and based on Ader’s advice he waited for and found a spot on the beast’s body not encrusted with stone. Sprig’s jaw clenched as the huge Ulrog spun toward him, leveling the gigantic, black blade across his path.
Hnarg barked orders at the Hackles frozen in confusion. It appeared his superior miscalculated. Hnarg was given a second chance to snatch glory for himself.
“Vlin trok Seraph!” barked the Ulrog priest. “Kill the Seraph!”
The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2) Page 30
