From the looks of things, Yettlebor was smarter than Lorik had given him credit for. Having lived in Hassell Point most of his life, a port city on the far side of the Marshlands where outlaws and pirates often made harbor, Lorik recognized the type of men who now wore the royal uniforms of Ortis’ army. Yettlebor had hired mercenaries and outlaws to rule the land. He had traded the fortune of a kingdom that wasn’t his own to secure his place as king. Probably granting the mercenaries lands, titles, and in most cases, unrestricted authority over the people of Ortis in exchange for the loyalty of criminals.
The reality was not only shocking, but infuriating. Lorik knew how men like Pyllvar would treat the citizens of Ortis. They would be his slaves, forced to work themselves into exhaustion just to pay his taxes and support his excessive lifestyle. That thought alone made Lorik furious, but seeing men who had no ties to Ortis and who only truly cared about themselves, wearing the royal uniform of the kingdom that Lorik loved, made his blood boil. Still, he held all his emotions in check and made sure that his face and posture remained passive.
“We shall relieve you of this burden,” Pyllvar said, “since you are so obviously inept. Take your men back to the border and resume your duties there, squad leader.”
“My lord,” said Haltis. “Our orders were to watch Lorik’s friends and to take him to King Yettlebor when he returned from the Wilderlands. We were never on guard duty.”
“Then I’m giving you new orders,” Pyllvar said. “Go watch the forest for signs of Norsik raiders. That will be all.”
Haltis looked almost as angry as Lorik, but he didn’t argue, especially when Ulber leaned forward in his saddle menacingly.
“Yes sir,” Haltis said.
“Bring the prisoner,” Pyllvar said, turning his horse away from the group of soldiers.
Ulber motioned to his men, two of which moved forward. Lorik had hoped he would be able to ride the horse the soldiers had provided him, but when he saw the rope the mercenaries carried, he knew he would have to walk.
The soldiers looked aghast as the mercenaries dropped a loop of the rope around Lorik’s neck and led him away. Lorik didn’t speak and didn’t resist. He held his hands close together, hoping that his new captors wouldn’t bother retying his hands. Lorik was under no illusions about Pyllvar and his men, or what Yettlebor would have ordered them to do. They wouldn’t bother to take Lorik to Ort City alive. They would kill him as soon as they were out of sight of the soldiers and then carry his carcass back to their king. If Lorik was going to survive the afternoon, he would have to make a move soon.
The rope tightened as the mercenaries who led him hurried back to their comrades. And Lorik only had time for one last glance over his shoulder, but there was still no sign of Stone or Vera. And Lorik knew he had to think of some way of freeing himself and escaping the mercenaries on his own. He needed time to think, but he had no idea how quickly the mercenaries would try to slay him. The only thing Lorik knew for certain was that his options were quickly disappearing. If he were going to survive the day, he would have to do something drastic… and soon.
Chapter 13
The sound of the arrow slamming into the white haired creature was loud, and the force of the projectile, along with the creature’s resulting movement caused by the pain, gave Quinn a moment to regain his senses. He had been pulled from the saddle, but the creature had lost its bite on his arm. While the creature's longest teeth had penetrated the leather wrist cuffs he wore on his forearms, the wound wasn't life threatening or even debilitating. His arm burned, but his adrenaline was pumping so much that he hardly felt the pain. He had lost his spear in the darkness, but the torches lay burning a few feet away.
Four of the white-haired creatures had converged on the horse, and the resulting neighs of terror, mixed with the ferocious growling of the beasts as they fought the poor steed, were horrifying. Quinn saw the horse fall to the ground with two of the white beasts on its back and another with its powerful jaws clamped down hard on the horse’s rear leg. The animals looked like wolverines, but their fur was completely white and they were much larger than a typical wolverine. These creatures were larger than a dog, with thick, powerful legs, wide bodies, and pointed faces. Their jaws bulged with muscle, and their teeth seemed too big for their mouths. Their most horrifying feature was the long, black claws on the ends of all four feet. Quinn guessed the claws were at least as long as his fingers.
As Quinn scrambled to his feet, the creatures were ripping his horse to bloody ribbons. It was a sight that Quinn had never seen before. Most animals only kill to eat, yet these monstrous beasts were in a fury over the horse, slicing it to pieces. They used their teeth, tearing out chunks of flesh, but then flung the meat aside in their frenzy.
The beast that had been hit with Mansel’s arrow was still alive. It struggled to its feet, but Quinn snatched up the torches and thrust one straight at the animal. The smell of burning hair was strong, and the animal yelped as it jumped back. The other creatures were pulled out of their killing frenzy, Quinn guessed, by the smell of burned fur. As the wounded creature limped away into the darkness, the others turned their attention to Quinn.
He had a torch in each hand, and he waved them at the animals, who snapped and growled at him. A couple even swiped at the torches with their long claws, but the heat from the flames and their natural fear of fire drove them back. They began to spread out, circling around Quinn and he realized they were going to attack all at once from four different directions. He wouldn’t be able to hold them all back, and once he fell, they would be on top of him, ripping his flesh to ribbons the way he’d seen them do to the horse. Fear made his skin crawl and he wanted to run away, even though there was no where to run to.
In his mind he cursed himself. Why had he rushed into danger? He was a fool for thinking he would survive. And he didn’t want to die. He wanted to see his grandchild born and growing up happy, safe, and beautiful. Tears stung his eyes and it was difficult to breathe. Then, out of the darkness another arrow took down one of the awful creatures. It punched through the beast’s throat and sent it flipping over and over in its death throes. The arrow snapped, but the damage was done, and the other animals waited for a moment to see what was happening to their pack mate. The creature was gargling blood, which came out of it its long, narrow mouth in bubbles before the beast finally collapsed.
There were three left, and the largest barked at the other two, who went racing off into the darkness.
“They’re coming for you!” Quinn shouted, hoping to warn Mansel.
He didn’t dare take his eyes off the big creature staring at him. For a long moment Quinn looked into the animal’s eyes. What he saw made his blood run cold in his veins. He had seen hatred before, intense loathing that made him feel as if the other person would kill him if only given half a chance. He saw that same look in the big creature’s eyes. It wanted to kill him and not because it was hungry, or fighting to protect itself or its offspring. The white-furred beast wanted to hurt Quinn, to make him suffer.
Quinn wasn’t sure what to do, but he kept the torches between himself and the animal, praying silently that the other two didn’t sneak back and attack him from behind. In the darkness Quinn heard hoofbeats as Mansel let his horse run to avoid the other two animals who had gone to stop him and his deadly arrows.
If he’d had his spear, Quinn would have done his best to kill the animal. But with only the torches, all he cared about was surviving. The animal turned, almost daring Quinn to attack, and casually went over to the fallen animal that Mansel had shot. The big creature sank its teeth into its pack mate and dragged the dead animal away. Quinn stood still, letting the beast disappear into the darkness. He waited for several moments, his body rigid with fear and ready to spring into action if the creature returned. Finally he moved over to the young girl’s body. She was alive, but just barely. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow.
Quinn rammed one of the torches into the
ground and scooped the girl into his arms. She was young and didn’t weigh much. Quinn could feel that the back of her shirt was torn and wet with blood. He wished that Zollin were there to help the poor girl, but he was all alone. The best thing he could do was get the girl back to the village. He turned, holding one torch in his hand and the young girl splayed across his arms, and ran.
He’d never felt so old as he did running with the young girl. He was out of breath almost immediately, and every muscle in his body ached. He was still afraid, both for the girl’s life and of the animals, but the rush of adrenaline was gone. His right forearm throbbed with pain, and his knees ground painfully with each step. Still he ran, desperate to find help for the girl. He ran until he almost passed out, and then he stopped only because Mansel was riding to him.
“Is she alive?” he asked.
“Yes,” Quinn said.
He fell to his knees, the muscles in his hips and lower back threatening to cramp. Looking down, he saw that the girl’s eyes were open.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “You’re safe now.”
“Daddy,” she said, her voice barely even a whisper.
Then her frail body stiffened, her head lolled to the side, and she breathed one last shuddering breath. Quinn held her, not quite believing what he was seeing. She’d died. She was gone. He knew that, but he couldn’t accept it. He pulled her close to his chest and cried until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Quinn, are you all right?” Mansel asked.
“No,” he said. “She’s gone.”
“I know that. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“We weren’t fast enough,” Quinn said.
“Even if we had been, we couldn’t have saved her. No one could have, except maybe Zollin. At least she died with you. She wasn’t alone.”
Quinn knew Mansel was right, but he wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair. What had the poor little girl ever done to anyone that she deserved such a horrible fate? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. But then he realized that he had been right about the animals. They had set a trap for him, or whoever would have come after the girl. And they weren’t hunting for food. These creatures, whatever they were, killed simply for the sake of killing.
“Take her,” Quinn said, letting go of the girl’s body. “We have to get back to the village.”
Mansel took the girl gently in his arms and laid her small body across his saddle. Neither man spoke, they just walked back toward the town. The hunting party met them at the edge of the village. They all saw the girl’s body by the light of Quinn’s torch long before they were close enough to speak. They all had questions—Quinn could see that on their faces—but they didn’t ask what they wanted to ask. Instead they stood silent as Vickry stepped forward to get his baby girl. His sobs shook everyone’s nerves. He wailed the cry of a grieving parent and Quinn knew that no matter how well they knew Vickry, or cared for the man and his family, they were all thinking they were fortunate the animals hadn’t attacked their own loved ones.
“Come on, Vickry,” Buck said, finally stepping forward and placing an arm around the grieving father’s shoulders. “Let’s take her home.”
A few of the others went with Buck and Vickry, but the rest of the hunting party gathered in close to hear what had happened. They listened to Quinn’s story with looks of disbelief, fear, and horror. In the distance they could see the torch still burning. From the edge of the village it was little more than a speck of light across the flat valley floor. And somewhere in the darkness, more of the creatures waited.
“You’re saying wild animals set a trap for us?” Kurchek said when Quinn finished his explanation.
“That’s right. And I wouldn’t call them wild animals. They aren’t just animals, at least none I’ve ever heard of before.”
“We’ll have to hunt them down tomorrow,” said one of the townsmen. “We don’t want more children killed.”
“Who ever heard of an animal that sets traps for humans?” Kurchek went on, undeterred. “Either Quinn is insane, or there's witchcraft involved.”
Several of the hunting party murmured in agreement.
“Quinn isn’t crazy,” Mansel said. “Go see for yourself. The trail is there. The torch is still in the ground where the little girl lay. Take a look at Quinn’s horse and tell me they didn’t set a trap. They could have ripped the girl to shreds too, but instead they carried her there and waited for us to come and get her. Then they pounced.”
“I guess its lucky for us you two survived,” Kurchek said. “I guess we’ll just have to take your word for what happened.”
“My word has always been good before,” Quinn said, his anger seething and making it hard for him to keep his voice calm.
“His son’s a wizard,” Kurchek said, then cleared his throat and spat. “Which of us can honestly say we know this man? Which of us can say what his son might be capable of, or what they might have to do to give his son magical power?”
“What are you insinuating?” asked another man.
“We’ve all heard stories about sorcerers stealing children and sacrificing virgins to their foul gods,” Kurchek said.
“That’s nonsense,” Quinn spat back. “You’re a fool if you believe such rubbish.”
“Am I? We’ve all seen what your evil spawn can do. It’s not natural. He brought the dragons here, am I right? Now there are other deadly creatures, or so we’ve been told. But none of us have seen the beasts. None of us—”
Kurchek was suddenly cut off by a scream on the other side of the village. Everyone turned, and there was another scream. Both were high pitched and so loud that everyone was frozen in fear for a moment. Then Quinn started running. The only weapon he had was the torch, but he ran toward the sound of screaming. Dogs were barking frantically. The town’s livestock all began to fuss and bray nervously. Quinn could hear the other men running behind him but he didn’t look back. All he could think of was the little girl, dead in his arms, and the fact that he’d failed to kill at least three of the white furred animals. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t rest, until he was sure the village was safe and that meant he had to kill the beasts. Somehow, some way, he had to stop them, before anyone else was hurt or killed.
Chapter 14
Walking through the forest, Zollin could feel that he was being watched. His mind raced with first worry, then wonder. The creature that led him through the darkness was simply incredible. Its body was made of wood, just like a tree. To his magical senses the creature felt just like a tree. And to an extent that made sense; trees and all plants were alive, they just weren’t considered to be conscious beings.
The tree creature had leaves on an array of branches up above its head. The eyes had been hard to see; they simply looked like knots in the wood, but they were there. It had thrown Zollin at first because they weren’t symmetrical like a human or even an animal face. And the creature’s body was thin, like an aspen tree. Any number of branches could be used like arms, and its feet were wide, spreading roots that could burrow down into the soil or spread out flat for walking.
Part of Zollin would have liked to study the tree creatures. He thought that Kelvich had called them Dryads, but he couldn’t be sure. They were an ancient people that had existed in the Peddingar forest for centuries—and no wonder, since they looked like a normal tree when they were moving around. Still, Zollin knew he had to keep his guard up. The Dryads had taken Brianna hostage and neutralized her ability to produce and control fire. He had no idea how they had accomplished that, since Brianna was infinitely more powerful than Zollin was after his battle with the witch. So he was going with the creature to find out what he could before he tried to rescue her.
They came to a small clearing, and Zollin was led out into the middle of the space. All around him the trees began to move, and he realized they were all Dryads. He felt a shock of fear, almost like swimming out into deep water then suddenly realizing that you couldn’t touch
the bottom anymore. Zollin was in over his head, completely surrounded, with no idea what he might use to fend off the strange woodland creatures.
“You are the wizard,” one of the dryads said.
“That’s right. I’m Zollin.”
“We are the keepers, forest builders, from before your kind.”
Zollin didn’t know what that meant, so he kept quiet, waiting for his opportunity to act. He wasn’t afraid to fight, but he had to know what had been done to Brianna before he did anything to provoke the dryads.
“We have only just awakened,” the tree creature went on. “Your kind stifled the life essence we depend on, forcing us to hibernate until the magic awoke once more in the world. We can not afford to let humans control magic. Your people are always cutting and hacking, always burning. The forest is forever shrinking before your axes and houses, your fields and crops. In the absence of magic we were helpless, but you can change that.”
“How?” Zollin asked. “I wish you no ill will. I only want Brianna back and to go in peace.”
“Your kind has brought nothing but ill will to our lands. So you will join us. Add your power to that of the keepers. Ensure that we will never be forced to sleep again.”
“I can’t do that,” Zollin said. “I’m sorry, but I am needed as I am. I cannot turn my back on the world for your sake alone.”
“Then the fire imp dies,” the forest creature said angrily.
“No! Wait!” Zollin implored “I want to help. Surely there must be another way.”
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