by B A Fleming
“He doesn’t look aggressive,” suggested Thais.
“No, not at all. But I think he wants to trade your bread roll for the stick Veer,” offered Soze.
“He obviously thinks you’ll need it!” laughed Gameard. Veer was by far the oldest of the party and they had increasingly taken great pleasure in reminding him of this fact as they had come to know each other.
“Okay,” indicated Veer, looking up at the creature. It cackled and almost sang in its own language as it easily caught the bread roll in one hand whilst dropping the stick to Veer with the other.
It took a bite, cackled again, and then suddenly disappeared back up into the thick tree tops just as quickly as it had arrived.
Casperi turned his head to follow his sisters gaze. Something moved in the forest nearby. Then suddenly the forest broke into a roar of noise as the assailants ran forth from all quarters. The party stood still all acknowledging in an instant they were out manned and peaceful surrender would be their best defense for the moment.
A hail of stones came down on them from the trees as they jumped up and grabbed shields which they all crouched behind, Dralan quickly moving across to protect Thais. The monkey like creatures jumped forward carrying more stones in their hands, some holding onto extras with their toes, snarling at the party.
Their yelling and howling were nothing more than show as the party started rising from their various positions, examining the actions of the Triund with shields lowered. One of the creatures stepped forward from the side, his hand reaching to plant his palm on Thais’ buttocks. Just as his hand was about to touch her breeches he screamed in pain, falling to his knees.
She stood firmly, the palm of her right hand open, orange light wrapping itself around his hand and arm.
“I thought you said they weren’t violent,” whispered Nathe. Gameard looked across to him and then Veer. Veer acted as if he had not heard the comment.
The leader of this ambush, standing slightly forward of the others watched these happenings without response.
The creature that touched Thais had fallen backwards, clutching his hand and arm in shrieks of pain, the unmistakable smell of burnt air had filled the space around him.
“You got what you deserved Rana,” spoke the ambush leader spoke firmly in a thick accent. “Who is your leader here?”
Casperi stepped forward. “I am, Casperi, son of a noble,” he indicated. Veer and Nathe both took half a step forward, edgily looking at each other and the Triund leader.
“You are in a dark forest full of thieves,” indicated the ambush leader. Many of his creature laughed openly at this statement.
“I am the Kurd Yapglo, Precious ruler of the monkey people. The Triund.”
The Triund were much more intelligent than their distant relation, the Grangols. Over the years they had interacted with the monks of the forest and developed a reasonable level of language skills.
“We are willing to share our fire with friends, and to kill of enemies without regret,” Casperi stated. “If required.”
“Then we should be wary of becoming your enemy,” suggested the Kurd Yapglo, indicating towards the creature still crying with the half-burnt arm on the ground. “As one of us has already discovered.”
“She doesn’t like those who wish to take advantage of her.”
“Obviously not,” he acknowledged.
“I am Satori, and although my party sought to take you and yours, I will settle for a truce of sorts.”
“We will agree to your truce but be weary of your, um, men. None should seek to harm us or all will certainly die.”
“You drive a fair bargain young Prince, but I will agree to your terms.”
“What are you creatures, if I may be so bold to ask?”
“We are the Triund,” he restated. “And these are the abode of our forest.”
Within half an hour of breaking camp the party arrived at another, much larger flag area. Small pyramids of rocks were stacked around the open area and several Triund could be seen lost in meditation. The party, sensing some sort of highly spiritual meaning to the area quietly marched across to the path on the other side. The gathered together on the edge of the meditation area. The path dropped steeply and the few Triund that had been following them all morning stopped in the trees on the edge of the flag area, obviously looking back towards their own forest.
“They won’t come in here,” quietly spoke Veer. “This whole place has bad energy.”
With a nod of heads, they stepped forward in single file. Nathe and Curran looked at each other as Gameard and Soze followed him. They then fell in line after Casperi, Thais and Dralan. Curran and Dwane took up the rear of the party, to ensure no attacks would be a surprise.
The path quickly became treacherous with either slippery moss covered stones or sharp rocks sticking out at all angles. The only respite was the small amount of soil and leaf litter that had been washed down through the forest and settled between the stones forming the path they carefully made their way along.
After ten minutes the path flattened to a small clearing and then lead around a steep rock outcrop before beginning to climb abruptly up the valley.
Veer lead the way, sword in one hand and walking stick in the other, directing Soze and Gameard where to slash or cut their way through the underbrush in places. Thick, gnarled tree boughs and roots, large cliff faces and boulders made the path easy to define but difficult to navigate and the sharp and slippery stones showed no respite.
Very frequently one of several members of the party went down, busting ankles that slipped or knees when they landed, so that within a few hours almost half were limping for one reason or another.
They followed the narrow trail as it winded its way up escarpments and across desperate gorges. Breaks were being called for more frequently.
Late in the afternoon they were on the move again after what seemed a much too short a rest.
The trail wound through the steep ravines past several waterfalls. Nathe still questioned Veer and although he continued to look lost at times, as the forest thinned, he seemed more sure of his bearings. He was the only one of the party that had been this high up the valley wall before, although trust in his directions was still questionable.
In the early evening the path started to make an ascent along narrow cliff faces. Several times the party was slowed to a standstill as one by one they made their way across jagged edges with over a hundred foot drops or more to sharp rocks below.
Fatigue was starting to play on the minds of several of the younger soldiers and a few of the mercenaries. One stumbled and almost fell to his death, caught at the last moment by Soze, who himself hung precariously over an edge, holding desperately onto the man’s cloak. Four of the men slowly but surely dragged the two men back up the cliff face.
Nathe called to set up camp on the third day since leaving the Triund village, having been encased in the thick jungle for much of their journey up the chasm, with it spilling down the cold grey stone walls on many occasions. They now sat on its edge, an unsettling feeling hanging over them. The conversation seemed hushed, whether from tiredness, or the location, little was spoken about over the meal.
Chapter 8
The man bent over with his hands on his knees. He was short of breath and obviously pleased to stop for a few minutes. The forest had thinned out during the morning and the trail looked as if it had been carved by goats, although there was enough cover for the party to still hide their presence from any others that may have been about.
“Are you okay, Soze?” asked Gameard, who stopped to check on the man. The altitude was climbing and although those that lived in the valley were used to the undulating nature of the kingdom, very few ventured up this high.
Gameard was alert and watching out for any potential threat. Veer seemed to have had chosen their party wisely as the men seemed both loyal and willing to step up to any challenge that was presented to them. The conflict continued between Nathe and
Veer, with Curran and Gameard acting more as mediators between the two.
Occasionally, during the past week a mercenary had come to Gameard and questioned the need for the girl but he had forewarned them that she had easily bested him and should not be underestimated. Everyone, including her, had struggled at one stage or another. Several had walked away from the conversation with Gameard laughing, or with a rye smile on their face. She was attractive to look at, so generally they didn’t mind her company. On the other hand, Gameard and Soze had started to question the motives of Dralan to Casperi. He too was becoming even more weary of the young warrior, in particular his increasing affections for the princess.
As many of the party had previously worked together at one stage or another, whenever an odd sound or something not quite right occurred, they would stop and signal each other without words. That said, there was also enough unknowns for a useful level of mistrust, which allowed Veer, Nathe and Gameard to maintain control of their chargers.
Denues’ legs burned with fatigue as each step took its toll on him. He was relieved when Nathe called a rest and he
gingerly sat with his head hung. After what seemed like a few moments the call was made to move out. He lifted his head only realising after a few moments of grogginess that he had fallen into sleep. He looked around to see several other men being woken as well.
Casperi had been awake for almost five hours. He sat with Thais and Denue, considering their points of view. The fog had trapped the party in this encampment all day. A fog so thick that even the trees upon the edge of the small clearing were merely grey shadows of the world around them. Snow had fallen overnight as well, and the finger deep covering blanketed everything.
“There’s nothing to make of it than to have rest day, my Lord,” surmised Nathe approaching. He had watched the boy grow into a man over many years.
Veer, Nathe and Denue were obviously the most senior of the party and although they were the first to be approached by a passing merchant as the perceived leaders down in the valley, they almost always deferred to young Prince Casperi for his approval.
To develop stronger unity within the party, Nathe and Veer had decided to pair off one mercenary with a soldier for guard duty. Gameard had asked if they both could put their differences aside as well, as the constant challenging was unsettling for many of the platoon.
For the present shift Gameard and Curran had made their way out to patrol the immediate area whilst four others stood in pairs on either side of the camp.
Curran stopped to examine something and Gameard turned around to come back to where he was crouching. Curran was examining some footprints. The fresh snow was just starting to cover the prints and the slushy mud was starting to ice up. They made their way back to the party to report their findings.
“It seems we’ve got company,” briefed Gameard.
“Ice Gols?” enquired Nathe.
“Yes, I estimate about ten of them, and fairly recently as well.”
“Recent enough to see us making our way up the valley?”
“Possibly, but I imagine they would have set an ambush on us before now. I somehow don’t think so. I imagine we may have just been lucky and snuck in behind them.”
“What’s the plan then?” asked Gameard. They called Casperi and Denue over. The party looked at each other.
They all looked at each other. Finally, Veer responded.
“Well, we’ve still got plenty of light. I suggest we follow them and see if we can make our way around them.”
“And if we can’t?” asked Nathe.
“Then we go through them,” surmised Gameard.
Three times in two days the party had come upon a group of young Ice Gols on the path. There must have been a reason for them patrolling the edges of their lands but it currently escaped the party, and only one group had been unexpected. The patrols of three or four Ice Gols were quickly dispatched with the bodies’ hidden in crevasses or rock falls and the rations of dried Gozioxy and yak meat was evenly distributed between each member. The dry yak meat was insipid but nutritious.
For two days they walked upward until the trail turned south west. Along the eastern face of the mountains, what looked like a pass could be made out along a higher plain. The snow was slowly becoming thicker and the peaks about them signaled the boundary between the Kingdom of the Valley and the land of the Ice Gols.
To the north and running east to west across their whole view, the Mountains of Sart rose up above them. Impenetrable walls fell down into the valley between thick waterfalls that were diminishing with the oncoming winter. Most of the landscape above had been hidden from them for their whole lives. It seemed as if this area was encased in a perpetual cloud. Only now did the small and larger rocky outcrops start to appear. The craggy sides of some indicated the possibility of caves, whereas others had smooth stone walls that dropped heavily into the snow above them.
The soldier took off his left glove, shook it a moment, and then slipped it back on. That was the signal that the scouts made when they thought they were being watched.
Curran hesitated, and crouched back deeper into the shadows. His scout had done the right thing. He also knew that they needed to withdraw to a safe distance. Carefully he looked across to Denue who nodded and pointed to his left glove. Good. He had seen the signal as well. Both canned the edges of the clearing and then Curran looked across to the far-right corner. Denue also caught a glimpse of movement. They both stealthily circled back to the left.
“Ice Gols, and a lot of them,” reported Curran.
“How do we get around them?” said Casperi.
“We don’t. Let’s work out how we can reduce their numbers at least in a sneak attack, and then take down the rest.” responded Nathe.
Curran had scouted the area with his men a few hours earlier and none of the landscape in their immediate area gave the opportunity for advancement. The party headed further back down the track to a small valley with a steep cliff face and slope, essentially minimizing an attack on the left flank.
Eight archers hid up in between rocky outcrops, another five in similar positions on the right side of the track and the rest in the middle. As they sat in waiting Curran came running into the small gorge, not taking time to look back. Five Ice Gols wearily made their way around a bend in the path. They saw their opponents before them and charged. Three were taken out by bow shots by the time they were halfway across the gap. The final two looked fearfully at each other and fell after a few paces.
The main party of Ice Gols entered the small valley a few minutes later. Several older warriors considered their fallen companions and one was held back, snarling. Several of the mercenaries had moved down to join those on the track as they stepped forward to a more defensible position.
An Ice Gols magician stepped forward. An older creature, small, reedy and frail, he seemed to have been embolden with magic. He cast a sheet of ice that spread out in front of the advancing line.
All the men of the Valley stopped except one who had continued to run. He looked back towards them, then down at his feet, then up again as he fell onto his rear. The ice was extremely slippery and he scrambled backward towards his platoon as several of them chuckled beneath their helmets.
The Ice Gols had no such problem on the ice and raced across it towards the mercenaries, their eyes a bloodshot red, fierce with anger. Soze bashed forward with his shield between two opponents. They had expected him to hold or to turn and run and were caught off guard by this sudden attack. The one on the left fell backwards, stumbling and landing with a clatter as his sword and shield deflected off a large spherical rock.
The second Ice Gol took a few steps back, but had only taken a small part of the hit and now struck down hard. Soze lifted his shield just in time and the strike ran down his arm, numbing his fingers. Many of the men were fighting their opponents individually and then some of them, after defeating their opponent, started to step in, their shields held high, forming a wall
that their attackers could barely reach over. Gameard and Vabnar started stabbing the Ice Gols feet with the end of their swords, the screams and agitation caused them to drop the shields just enough to strike each in the neck or across the skulls. This was a move that a handful of the mercenaries had discussed and practiced several days before.
Thais and two of the soldiers had been firing arrows from the rocks on the left flank. She had tripped and her two companions had fallen trying to defend her and now a large Ice Gol stood leering, measuring every movement of her figure with his eyes. She sensed his apodyopsis and in a crouched position slowly stepped down the slope away from him.
“Dnt tu like me ll tin?” he grinned through a thick, almost incomprehensible accent.
She turned sharply and struck with a dagger in her right hand. He deftly blocked it, grabbed her wrist and stared deeply into her eyes.
“Myb I tk tu nw?” he hissed, his reddened eyes staring almost straight through her.
Wincing in pain, she fired an orange bolt with her left hand. A fist size hole now remained where the center of his chest had been. He briefly looked down and fell backwards, letting go of his grip. Thais stood silently, watching him fall.
Casperi was intently focused on his own struggle to survive that he didn’t look around. His first adrenalin fueled opponent had swung and missed and Casperi had slashed the creature from behind as it went past him on the uneven ground.
Now another came at him, swinging at his neck in a more controlled movement. Unlike the first, this one was obviously more experienced, and more patient. He ducked the looping blow and delivered a stab into its lower chest below the shield, before steeping back.
Dralan stood on one side of him, and another mercenary, Daak, on the other side. Upon meeting him, back in Tharkomad, the first thing he noticed was the warm and gentle voice of the woodsman who was almost as capable as Curran both with a bow and in tracking.
