Kagonesti lh-1

by Douglas Niles

  Thus far, however, the Pathfinder had been unable to locate a cave mouth. The hilltop was fairly smooth, and though, because of the crude wall, he couldn't see all of the enclosed area, Kagonos had begun to form a suspicion. In the center of the fortified clearing rose a small cairn of boulders, no taller than an ogre. The top of the pile had been smoothed into a platform, suitable for a lookout to see over the walls, but during the time the elf watched, no ogre had climbed onto that cairn for so much as a glance at their surroundings. It seemed to him, then, that the boulders had been piled there for some other purpose.

  A purpose such as concealing the mouth of an underground hiding place. The more he thought about it, the more convinced Kagonos became that this cairn marked the place where he would find the Bluestone-after, of course, the Elderwild entered the crater, crossed the lake, climbed the hill, and breached the ogres' impromptu wall.

  He heard the sounds of climbers only as Dall came into sight below. Quickly the young elf rejoined his brother, creeping to the edge of the crater, while a file of warriors advanced behind him. Another wild elf crept forward, and Kagonos nodded to Barcalla, chief of the Silvertrout tribe. Each of the Elderwild warriors bore a pair of skis strapped to his back, with both hands free to hold weapons. Kyrill would take longer to reach his position across the crater, but he, too, should soon be getting into position.

  "They don't look like they're expecting trouble," Dall whispered. The young elf's voice trembled with excitement, and his hand shook as it clutched the slender steel sword that, today, he would use for the first time in anger.

  Dall's face, like his brother's, was painted in the charcoal black stain favored by the tribe as war paint. Since this was his first battle, the younger elf's skin was marked by circles of black, instead of the winding, spiraled ram's horns that denoted the more experienced braves. Dall, like Kagonos, bore the insignia of an oak leaf design enclosing his left eye. This was their family sign, unrelated to any of the tribal symbols.

  "Ogres never look alert," Kagonos replied, "but they react very quickly when trouble shows its face."

  "I know," replied the younger elf, eager to demonstrate his readiness for this battle.

  Kagonos sighed, wishing there were another way- futilely cursing the necessity that brought even the voungest males of the tribe into the battle. But there was no alternative. If they won this battle, the Elderwild could live in peace and flourish. If they lost, and the blue dragons remained free to terrorize Krynn, the end of the wild elves would be an inevitable and probably imminent development.

  "Is Kyrill over there? Is he ready yet?"

  "Patience, my brother. Kyrill will signal us when he's in position."

  Kagonos allowed his eyes to drift upward, away from the snowswept island in its vast bowl of snow, until his gaze swept across the rock-fanged ridge on the opposite side of the frozen lake. Though the Pathfinder could see no sign of movement, he knew that Kyrill must by now be leading his detachment of warriors through those rocks. Moving invisibly among the snow-draped crags, the Elderwild across the mountain would be nearing their starting positions. Kagonos studied the small saddle, marked by a distinct pillar of rock, where Kyrill was to signal his readiness. He saw no sign of the elf yet, but Kagonos forced himself to be patient. He knew that his brother wouldn't make him wait much ionger.

  The high, steep ridges encircled the lake almost completely-only the narrow notch broke the crest at one point, plunging into a canyon where the stream of the lake's outflow passed toward the plains. Now that waterway, like the lake itself, was frozen. Several ogres stood sentry duty in the foot of the gorge, diligently observed by Elderwild warriors who remained out of sight among the rocks above.

  The snow on the rugged heights, on the other hand, showed no sign of drawing ogre curiosity. Many trees dotted the crater's slopes, and deep drifts of powder rendered the ground into a deceptively smooth incline. Hopefully, the snow would provide the means for a quick and startling attack by the elven braves. Certainly the soft powder made it difficult for the lumbering monsters to get around, but their carelessness still astounded Kagonos. Surely they were aware that the Elderwild could travel here?

  Perhaps they were too busy worrying about Silvanos, he reflected. That must be it: why would they worry about a few hundred savage elves-elves who didn't wear armor of metal, who shunned horses and lances and the steel- coiled longbows of their city-dwelling kin-when faced with the threat of an entire, well-disciplined army marching along the fringe of the mountains? The wild elves would take grim satisfaction in proving them wrong.

  Kagonos's eyes swept back to the camp, where the work on the wall had ceased altogether, though the barrier remained irregular and slipshod. Most of the ogres relaxed under the afternoon sun or bickered and gambled in small groups.

  "There it is!" hissed Dall. The younger elf pointed across the basin to the opposite ridge, and Kagonos saw it, too: a glimmer of silver, as Kyrill reached the saddle on the opposite rim and flashed his blade in the sun.

  Kagonos threw back his head, lips taut as he put the spiraling horn to his mouth. He blew a harsh, strident blast that carried clearly to the ears of all the elves-yet was virtually inaudible to the ogres, who heard merely a fresh ripple of mountain wind.

  To the hundreds of Elderwild warriors waiting among the trees, the Ram's Horn sounded a clarion call to battle. Garbed in fur cloaks, wearing skis, the elves turned their feet downhill and began to move.

  Kagonos led the warriors attacking from the south. Here the trees were dense, and he cut back and forth between them, rapidly gaining speed. The snow had melted even in the shade, making the initial maneuvering slow and clumsy. Soon, however, he slashed downward, the wind burning his face and stinging tears from his eyes while his increased speed allowed him to turn smoothly, gracefully to avoid the trees.

  Silent except for the hissing passage of their skis, the elves glided down from the highest forests. The Pathfinder could hear them behind, knew that his warriors used every ounce of their skill as the descending onslaught continued to gain speed.

  Kagonos stole a glance across the valley and saw a rank of Elderwild come into view-Kyrill's northern attack swept downward precisely on time. The tree line was higher over there, but those elves had the shortest stretch of lake to cross before the ogre encampment.

  The shriek of the eagle split the air, then resounded dozens of times over as the Elderwild of the northern rank raised their voices in the shrill war cry of their people. Kagonos held his breath-would the ogres react as he had hoped?

  One of the brutish warriors roared an alarm, spotting Kyrill's elves sweeping downward. That small band of elves continued to shriek like furious birds of prey, crowing crude insults at their enemies or shouting valiant boasts of their own prowess. Ogres raced toward the sounds, quickly gathering at the north wall of their camp: o await the attack.

  Now, however, skiing warriors came into view to the south as Kagonos led his own shrieking party-much larger than Kyrill's forty braves-toward the base of the steep slope. On the open snow he crouched for speed and balance, dimly aware that he had never traveled so fast. In the corner of his eye he saw an Elderwild break a ski on a hidden obstruction-the wild elf went down in a tumble of snow and flailing limbs. Risking a quick look behind, the Pathfinder saw that his warrior lay motionless at the end of his fall.

  Now the skiers raced onto the frozen surface of the lake, rasping across the crusted snow at high speed. A few ogres scrambled back to the unprotected walls on the south, but most of the brutes still stood ready to face Kyrill's onslaught. The rising bulk of the island blocked Kagonos's view of his brother's band, but he knew that the northern attack must already be sweeping around the sloping hill. Kagonos quietly repeated his command, hoping Kyrill remembered-come here to join us! Don't storm the wall alone!

  His own momentum held all the way across the lake, propelling him halfway to the crest of the island's slope. As soon as Kagonos ceased moving, he kicked his
feet free of the skis and sprinted up the hill, driving his moccasins into the crust of the snow with each bounding footstep. The eagle's shriek rang all around him, echoed by his own lips without accompanying thought.

  The Elderwild Pathfinder bore two weapons: in his right hand the long-hafted axe with its steel blade, sharp as a razor, in his left a thrusting javelin with a head of sharpened flint. Both had served as ski poles during the descent, but now he shifted his grip, brandishing the axe upraised while he held the spear ready for jabbing. The Ram's Horn was as safe as he could make it, tied snugly against the small of his back.

  Worry tightened a grip on his heart as he looked around — there was still no sign of Kyrill. Clearly the young brave led his warriors in a valiant attack on the north,continuing the diversion at the risk of their lives.

  Unwilling to wait for Kagonos's braves, a lone ogre scrambled over the ramshackle wall, raising a club and bellowing in fury. The monster charged forward, heavy boots immediately breaking through the crust of the snow. Sunk to its thighs, the monster flailed madly at the charging Pathfinder.

  Kagonos paused for a fraction of a second, allowing the club to whoosh harmlessly past his face. Then he stabbed with the spear, drivihg the tip into the shoulder of the monster's weapon arm. N^e ogre bellowed in pain, dropping its club and twisting away from the elf. Kagonos charged past, slashing a blow with his axe that elicited another groan of pain. Knowing other warriors would finish the monster, the chieftain sprinted onward, leaping up the piled boulders of the wall.

  Atop the ring of rocks, Kagonos cried out with savage delight. He saw pandemonium in the ogre camp as the brutes ran toward the unprotected sections of their wall. Many Elderwild warriors scrambled over the granite rampart, adding their own triumphant cries to the din.

  Only across the compound, where Kyrill's courageous band had indeed made the initial attack, did the enemy meet the onslaught with a firm defense. There ogres massed behind the wall, while several of the monsters lunged over the top, charging into the press of the attackers. None of the elves on that side had yet made it onto the wall.

  Another ogre charged, roaring, toward Kagonos. With one leaping bound, the elf jumped from the top of the wall, landing lightly in the monster's path. Startled, the ogre skidded to a halt, but when it blocked the steel head or Kagonos's axe with a stout club, the Elderwild jabbed the monster's bulging gut with the javelin. Groaning, the ogre collapsed.

  To the Bluestone! Find the stone!" cried the Pathfinder as more and more of his warriors sprang from atop the wall. Dozens of clashes whirled around the camp as elves in ones, twos, and threes turned their weapons against the disjointed ogre resistance.

  More bird-cries came from the right as cawing Elder- wild surrounded a hamstrung ogre, stabbing the hapless creature with their weapons. Other monsters charged to their companion's rescue and the elves turned with shocking speed to meet the new attack-but not before one of them sliced the throat of the unfortunate brute who had spurred the rescuers.

  Two ogres rushed at Kagonos, and he fell back, parrying the blows of a club and a huge, bronze-bladed sword. Abruptly the sword-wielder shrieked and twisted. In the gap of a second the chieftain saw Dall there, jerking back on the short-bladed sword he had stabbed into the monster's thigh.

  It was a painful wound, but not crippling, Kagonos saw with dism^-obviously the young warrior had underestimated the monster's speed of response. Dall tripped and sprawled on his back, but when Kagonos leapt to his brother's aid, the club-bearing ogre smashed his weapon straight toward the Pathfinder's head.

  Barely raising his axe in time, Kagonos blocked the attack, the force of the blow staggering him. Quickly recovering, he drove in hard and fast, underneath the ogre's clumsy backswing. The bloody tip of the javelin drove upward through the gristle of the monster's neck, slicing through its mouth and finally lodging in the hateful brain. Slain instantly, the ogre toppled backward, pulling the javelin from Kagonos's fingers as it fell.

  "Look out!" cried the Pathfinder, leaping past the corpse. Dall rolled across the ground as the second ogre raised the huge bronze blade for another blow. Gashed deeply on his arm, the young warrior clawed for purchase on the slippery rocks as the wound spurted blood.

  Kagonos swung, all the supple force of his long arm packed into one powerful blow. The gory axe head slashed through the air, toward the thick, muscle-bound neck-a blow that would cut through bone, slice the with ultimate and undeniable authority.

  But as he knew all this, Kagonos also understood that his kill would come too late.

  Dall's eyes widened in terror and comprehension as the bronze blade plunged earthward. The barbed edges of the heavy weapon tore a cruel hole in his chest, and the weight of the metal did the rest.

  Howling furiously, his voice more like a wildcat's snarl than an eagle's shriek, Kagonos chopped the head from the ogre's shoulders. The sounds emerging from the Elder- wild's mouth twisted and wailed in the air, a rising song of unspeakable grief, as the headless monster tumbled to the side.

  His brother's eyes dimmed as Kagonos knelt at Dall's side. The younger elf stared desperately at the Pathfinder, and for a brief moment his gaze seemed to hold the wisdom, the serenity of countless ages. Then Dall relaxed, slumping backward, eyes half-closing. Knowing death, Kagonos gently reached out and closed his brother's eyes fully. Despite the gaping hole in his chest, the younger elf looked oddly peaceful, as if he'd grown tired and simply lain down for a few minutes.

  Vaguely Kagonos remembered that battle still raged. He blinked and looked around, thankful that several warriors had held a pair of nearby ogres at bay during his brief moment of grief. Now the Pathfinder sprang to his feet, axe held high.

  As if they sensed his grim purpose, the two ogres stepped backward, but too slowly. Kagonos leapt like a striking snake, his slender axe head lashing out to cut the throat of one ogre while the other was borne to ground by two leaping Elderwild, eager to avenge the death of their Pathfinder's brother.

  The Bluestone-it must be here!" shouted Kagonos, staring across the battle-scarred hilltop, trying again to divine a hiding place. The mound of boulders still seemed the most likely location, though the monsters made no particular attempt to defend that locale-at least, no greater effort than they made everywhere else. Yet Kagonos had to believe that the rocks mounded into a flat-topped cairn concealed the hiding place of the Bluestone.

  Howls of wounded ogres mingled with the shrieks of attacking Elderwild. Those elves who suffered hurt, conversely, bore injury in stoic silence-indeed, many wounded elves limped in the rear of the attack, ruthlessly finishing off any ogre stragglers that had survived the first rush.

  "Follow me!" Kagonos rushed forward, amid the chaos of the shattered camp. Many ogres-and nearly as many elves-lay bleeding and motionless across the expanse of rocks and snow. A band of the monsters still stood clustered at the north wall, though now it seemed as though the ogres sought to flee, no longer interested in defending their mountaintop retreat.

  The potent gemstone was large, the elven Pathfinder knew, but it could possibly be concealed in an ogre belt- pouch or satchel. "None may escape!" cried Kagonos. "Surround them-cut them all down!"

  Whooping in fury, the elves closed in. Ogres trampled each other in their haste to escape, darting this way and that in a futile effort to avoid the stone and metal weapons of the Elderwild warriors.

  Kagonos reached the large cairn and quickly scrambled to the top. There, among the piled rocks, he saw the outlines of a shadowy niche. He began to kick stones free, sending the boulders tumbling down the pyramidal sides of the rock pile. A quick look across the hilltop showed him that Kyrill's band still massed at the wall, blocking the ogres who so desperately tried to flee.

  Then rocks shifted beneath his feet, and Kagonos tumbled backward as a huge, yellow-tusked ogre burst upward from a suddenly revealed cave mouth. Spittle flew from the monster's roaring jowls, and in its burly paw it clutched a huge, hook-bladed sword. The weap
on flashed, and a lightning blow whistled toward the Pathfinder's head.

  Chapter 4

  The Guardian and the Stone

  Kagonos jumped back, feeling tbe swish of air as the mighty weapon slashed past his torso. The blade clanged against a rock, bouncing back in a lightning-fast parry-even before the wild elf could raise his axe for an attack. The huge ogre lunged forward to block the cave entrance, and the Elderwild had no choice but to fall back another step, though his eyes probed beyond the brute's shoulder, looking for some telltale gleam of blue. For now Kagonos saw only blackness, though he got an impression of shadowy aicoves and twisting passages. Certainly there was more to this shelter than first met his eye-but he wouldn't be able to explore it unless he disposed of the menacing jgre.

  The monster roared, fetid breath washing over the elf as Kagonos ducked into a fighting crouch. His axe, normally such a potent and deadly weapon, seemed a frail counter to the ogre's crushing blade-one solid parry, he knew, and the wooden haft would splinter like kindling.

  The ogre's face twisted into a mask of hatred, bloodshot eyes glittering wickedly as it sensed the elf's weakness. The brute took another step forward, pushing rocks out of the way with its shoulders as it forced its way through the narrow cave mouth. A grotesque tongue licked across the ogre's sagging lips, while its twin, yellowed tusks gleamed with drool.

  Kagonos retreated again, forced backward by a slashing blow. The monster sensed an advantage and lunged outward, shaking dust from its shoulders and roaring in fury and anticipated triumph. The sword slashed again, and the Pathfinder used his axe in a parry-fortunately the steel head deflected the great bronzed blade, the shaft holding firm.

  This time the ogre overreached and the elf hacked a return stroke, carving a bloody gouge in the monster's shoulder. Howling furiously, the beast whipped around with a savage backswing. Kagonos ducked, knowing that the blow had enough force to hack his head from his shoulders. Springing upright again the elf chopped with the spiked reverse side of his axe head, driving the sharp steel tip into the ogre's knee and drawing a shrill bellow of pain and outrage.