by David Cook
"Is Turi a good mage?" Martine whispered to Vil.
The warrior shrugged. "Good enough, if you need illusions tricks of light and shadow, phantoms those sorts of things. Better get yourself ready to go," Vil added with the barest nod to Jazrac. "Does he need skis?" Jouka was already herding his chattering fellows outside as Vil took his skis from the pegs.
"Not at all," Jazrac cheerily replied, overhearing the question.
Stamping their ski-clad feet to drive out the cold, the gnomes waited impatiently outside for the humans. In the morning chill, their frosty breath caught in their beards and mustaches, coating them with a snow-whitened glaze. The waiting gnomes said little, their gazes fixed grimly on
the woods. Their old eyes held no fear, only determination for the mission before them.
Jouka gave the signal to move out. The outer doors parted. "We go!" barked Jouka, barely waiting for the humans. Expert skiers, the Vani set a brisk pace, each following in the track of the gnome before him. Martine was surprised how quickly the short-legged folk could shoot across the snow as she and Vil labored to keep pace. Only Jazrac traveled without the long boards, instead drifting over the surface of the snow, held magically aloft, floating alongside Martine and Vil.
"I thought such magic could be used only for brief periods," the former paladin rumbled. "We're likely to be traveling all day."
The wizard ignored Vil's evident irritation. "Thats true of spells, yes, but a ring of flying is much more useful." To demonstrate, the wizard made a pass by the skiing warrior, rising slowly until his feet were level with the man's helmeted head.
Singularly unimpressed, Vil growled, "I've seen flying wizards before. Archers call them flying pincushions." Martine chuckled, for wizards tended to be pretty useless as fighters. It was their spells and not their fighting prowess that made them powerful.
Appropriately chastised, Jazrac resumed skimming over the snow, stirring up a thin cloud of ice crystals as he went. As she pulled alongside her skiing companion, Martine couldn't help but notice a sardonic smile on Vil's lips.
After half an hour of nonstop travel, Jouka whispered back the command to halt. Her throat rasped raw by the fierce cold, Martine was thankful for the slightest break in their march. She wanted to spit, but her mouth was parched by the arid winter air. Her sides burned and her legs felt ready to buckle, reminding her of just how little experience she had had on skis. Knowing the gnome hadn't halted the column just for her benefit, Martine somehow resisted collapsing into an exhausted heap. Instead, she slowly drew her sword for battle, her fingers muffling the scrape where the scabbard's metal lip rubbed the blade. The sword's edge nipped her finger, a sharp sting that she ignored as several drops of blood rolled down her finger and plopped, overlapping, on the snow. The white crystals melted and then spread into a pink areola at her feet.
Jouka carefully issued orders to form a search line. The instructions that followed were simple; the gnome knew he couldn't expect anything too complicated from his militia. They were to fan out in a line. If they saw anything, they should freeze and stay hidden, then signal those to their left and right, who would pass the signal down the line. Most of all as the gnome said it, he looked pointedly at the three humans no one was to act on his own. No individuals were to rush to the attack, but rather wait until the command was given. To be certain they understood, Jouka had his warriors repeat the instructions. Only when he was completely satisfied that all the farmhands and carpenters understood did Jouka begin posting the gnomes to their positions.
"Do you know where the gnolls are?" Martine asked Jouka privately once everyone had received his instructions. She wondered if the gnome was privy to some information, perhaps brought in by a scout or outlying farmer.
Jouka shook his head from side to side, then pointed toward the northwest. "No reports, but Hudni's place lies off that way. There's sheltered ground and fresh water between us and the farm. That's where I'd camp if I were the gnolls. We'll search there first."
The search tine formed a long irregular arc along the edge of the woods. Martine kept Jazrac to her left, and Jouka took up position on her right, forming the center of the line. Vil was somewhere farther to the right, lost to her
sight by the paper-white trunks of birch trees. Beyond him was Turi. Martine guessed Jouka was being careful, keeping his ablest fighters close at hand. That way he could quickly change directions when the enemy was spotted.
The gnome waved his ski poles to both sides; a signal Martine dutifully passed.down the line. Tentatively, as if expecting a gnoll behind every tree, the scouting line entered the woods like beaters on a king's hunt.
After breaking through the thicket-lined edge of the woods, no easy feat on skis, the Harper cast about for her flankers. Jazrac was abreast of her, about ten feet off the ground, gliding easily over the last of the bramble wall she had just labored through. A more experienced skier, Jouka was already well ahead of her. "Damn!" Martine hissed under her breath as she floundered awkwardly on her skis, determined not to be shown up.
Now the trip became considerably more difficult than before. There was no clean track broken by the others for her to follow. The search did not move along any easy paths like game trails, so her route was constantly impeded by thickets and deadfalls that forced her into slow detours. To make it worse, sometime in the last day or two a brief thaw had transformed what had been soft powder into a glazed sheet of ice that slid under her skis like a greased pig. One ski or the other kept unexpectedly shooting forward, only to have it break through the crust and disappear completely into the powder beneath. It wasn't long before she had worked herself into a lathered sweat.
Eventually the thickets thinned and the forest floor became more open as the raiders plunged deeper into the ancient forest. Regaining her position, Martine continued to scan the woods ahead for signs of their enemy.
They continued unimpeded for several hours, the searchers moving with deadly slowness. Occasionally the interlaced pine boughs gave way to leafless aspens, and Martine could see the sun hanging well above the tallest peak of the mountain wall, making ice and bare rock glint brilliantly. Streamers of windswept snow fumed off the jagged slopes and made the distant sky sparkle like a magical star shower. Such glimpses were brief, for as soon as the openings appeared, the forest closed back in around them.
On another day, the wild beauty of the winter woods would have undoubtedly thrilled the ranger. There was no such enjoyment today, however. Martine's concentration was too fixed on the dark spaces that lurked between the creaking trees. Bird calls, rabbit tracks, wind-fallen trees, and the bloodstains of a lynx's kill all acquired and then lost ominous meanings. The eerie silence of the other searchers unnerved her.
A whispered signal brought the line to a halt. While everyone else waited, Jouka silently disappeared down the line to investigate. Martine was impressed by the gnome's stealth.
It quickly became difficult to remain still. Curiosity and intense cold both made her want to keep moving.
At last the small figure returned. The gnome skied past his own position to confer with her. "We found tracks angling to the northwest. Signal the message down the line." No more explanation was needed.
From there on, the skiers moved with even greater stealth. Although the valley was certainly well known to the gnomes, they were now in essence entering an unknown region prowled by hidden terrors. While everyone that morning had been placid, if grim, they were now tense. Jouka skied with sword and poles in hand, a technique Martine was not ready to master.
It wasn't until the sun had started on its long descent toward the western treetops that the searchers ground to a stop. A terse word rippled down the line. "We've found them, woman. Come," Jouka glided over to say. With that,
he plunged deeper into the woods. The Harper signaled to the wizard behind her. She waited only long enough for Jazrac to confirm her hand signs before breaking position to follow Jouka's trail.
The pace now beca
me extraordinarily slow as the ranger scanned every inch for signs of the enemy. Matching her advance were the shadows of the others, flickering among the pines, the thickets, and the hummocks of snow.These farmers were better than she thought, moving as if they were stalking nervous squirrels for the dinner pot.
Gradually the raiders converged on a point where Jouka lay, belly down, in the snow at the base of a large drift. Beyond his position, the stalking was over and the strike would be at hand. Jouka softly issued a string of commands, sometimes drawing the more detailed instructions in the snow. The tired warriors, tight-lipped and tense, listened and then stealthily moved down the drift, each drawing his weapon and wending into the woods to his assigned post. Jouka laid a hand on Martine, signaling her and Vil to stay close.
"What should I do?" Jazrac whispered at her side.
"Don't you know?" Martine hissed back, astonished by the question. She had assumed that the wizard, older than she and skilled in magic, was naturally experienced at this sort of thing. The look of uncertainty in his eyes said otherwise.
"I abhor fighting," he explained. "I never was any good in battles. Research and study are my strengths."
Martine bit back a curse, especially since Jazrac was her superior, but she certainly wished he'd said something before. "Stay back and be ready then," she snapped, unable to keep a hint of scorn out of her voice. The wizard stiffened but, perhaps knowing his place, accepted her command.
With Jouka's warriors in position, Martine expected thecommander to immediately plunge over the drift and into battle. Instead, Jouka waited and listened for any sounds of their foe. After several minutes with no indication his advancing warriors had been discovered, he undid his skis, jammed them upright into the snow, and then slithered up the bank. Vil and Martine quickly followed suit.
At the top of the drift, the trio took position behind the cover of a thin stand of young birch that broke through the snow. They lay a flank several other gnomes hunkered down in the snow. Snarling voices came from beyond the ridge.
The gnome reached up and cut away a small gap in the drift for the trio to peer through. 'There they are," he whispered. "The brutes."
Nestled in a bowl of drifts was the gnoll camp. Small dark leather tents dotted the ground. In a quick count, the Harper estimated there were about twenty of them. Along the base of a large drift opposite were the tunneled openings to snow caves like the one she and Krote had shared. About fifteen gnolls, bundled in furs and rags, were in the camp, most of them squatted around the large bonfire at the center of the clearing. With the habit born of combat, Martine noted three guards, none particularly attentive, widely spaced around the camp's edges. They seemed more concerned about their freezing feet and fingers than the dark woods beyond the drifts.
Carefully the trio slid back just below the top of the drift. "Did you see any sign of Vreesar?" the ranger softly quizzed the other two, wondering if she'd missed the creature. Both gnoll and man shook their heads. The creature's absence was both a disappointment and a relief. Martine had hoped they would catch the elemental here and end it all, but at the same time, with the fiend gone, their chances were much better.
"What's the plan.?" Vil asked.
"We outnumber them," Jouka pointed out. "On my signal, we rush them from all sides. Kill everyone and destroy the camp. Those who are not in camp now can freeze or starve." "Not much of a plan," Martine commented.
"We are not an army. It must be simple." "He's right, Martine," Vil concurred.
Martine peeked back over the ridge. "We should hold some of our forces back, just in case Vreesar shows up." The gnome shook his head, the spikes of his armor wavering as he did so. "No. We can't weaken the attack, and the others would not be enough against the creature anyway. If the monster appears, we and your wizard will fight it."
The Harper didn't like the looseness of the idea but, upon consideration, knew that Jouka was right. Even the entire raiding party might not be enough against the elemental. She drew her sword to show she was ready.
Jouka looked down both sides of the line, signaling his warriors to prepare themselves. As the silent signal passed from gnome to gnome, their leader fitted his spiked helm in place. His fierce eyes raged from behind the bizarre smoothness of the black mask.
With a loud battle cry, the gnome heaved to his feet and charged the unsuspecting gnolls, plowing through the waist-deep snow with dreadful abandon. His fellow gnomes caught up the signal and hurled themselves upon the foe, leaping and bounding through the drifts as best as their short legs could carry them. Some twirled swords over their heads, while others hammered their blades against wooden shields. The air was filled with a horrible din, the convoluted call of bloodlust accompanied by the deadly hum and clash of steel.
The unsuspecting gnolls froze in confusion near the fire pit, their savage eyes staring with shock. One recovered quickly, disengaging itself from its stunned fellows toscramble frantically for a bare-bladed sword stuck into the snow. The others sat staring, unable to move for a crucial instant as the gnomes descended upon them.
Almost as surprised as the gnolls, Martine sprang to her feet only moments after Jouka led the charge, but even with her longer legs, she couldn't keep pace with the enraged gnome. Then suddenly Martine was brought low when her feet hit a patch of hidden ice and dropped her solidly to the ground.
The nearest guard stood transfixed with astonishment. When it finally realized the situation, all it could do was futilely fling a fistful of snow before attempting to run. Bounding down the slope with extraordinary speed, Jouka whirled his sword over his head and caught the fleeing gnoll across the neck with the full force of his swing. The meaty thunk of blade slicing through muscle and bone rose above the bloodthirsty din of his fellow raiders. Fresh blood streamed in an executioner's arc as the blow cleanly severed the gnoll's neck, its mange-marked head plopping softly into the snow. The gnoll's decapitated body staggered two lifeless steps forward, the arms jabbing at the air in spasmodic twitches. Then, although its legs moved no more, momentum flung the body forward, spraying warm blood across the pristine winter ground.
A second gnoll, a battle-scarred veteran distinguished by a lopped-off ear, wasn't going to fall so easily. With canny verve, it dove upon the nearest charging gnome and clamped its fangs into the Vani's sword arm. The warrior shrieked, his blade slipping from his grasp, and the gnoll callously hurled him aside and scrambled after the weapon. Momentarily beyond the reach of its enemies, the gnoll tensed to fight, the rags it wore flapping wildly about it.
Yet even as the gnoll battled to gain a fighting stance, the Vani were slashing through its fellows. Barely breaking stride, Jouka shrilled out a series of orders that his fellow
gnomes were quick to implement. The ring quickly closed about the gnolls trapped beside the fire pit, cut off from their weapons. When they drove forward, the gnomes ahead gave ground while their brothers rushed up from behind to catch the stragglers unprepared. One by one the gnolls fell to the overwhelming numbers of the Vani, until only a small knot remained, surrounded by the dead and the blindly thrashing wounded.
With the main force pinned, Martine and Vil found themselves facing the veteran. It was quick and canny, whirling constantly to face off against first one, then the other. The creature's face was contorted, its black lips pulled back in a tight, skeletal rictus. Martine could hear its breath come in rasping gasps, and its legs wobbled from exhaustion, but the primal glare in the gnoll's eyes showed its determination not to give up. The dance between hunter and prey, the roles shifting constantly between gnoll and human, slowly continued toward its inevitable conclusion.
Huffing from the effort of breaking through the snow, Vil growled, "I must be getting old. I can't keep this up anymore." Nonetheless, he lunged again, the point of his blade tearing into the gnoll's side. The creature swept its sword about in a hapless effort to parry, and in that instant, Martine slashed at the opening the creature left in its guard. Her blade hit the bea
st in the midsection. With fury driven by pain, the gnoll parried Vil's second thrust with a vicious clang of metal and whirled to face the Harper, driving her back with a mad series of slashes. As she stumbled out of reach, the creature staggered to a stop. Woman and beast stood staring at each other, both too intent on their foe to feel fear.
It was the gnoll who ended the standoff. With a wild leap, it hurled itself toward Martine. The gnoll's ululating cry rang through the woods as the wind shook the branches in sympathy. The long sword slashed out viciously.
In a single, graceful move, Martine dropped flat, thrusting upward at the same time. Her sword tip caught the charging gnoll just above its sternum and sliced downward. Warm blood sprayed her face as the gnoll toppled past her to die, twitching, on the ground.
Martine didn't waste any time but was already moving to rejoin the main battle. Five gnolls remained, glaring at their enemies who thronged around them on all sides.
At the forefront of the gnomes, Jouka picked up an axe from the litter of a trampled tent and, with a snap of his wrist, hurled it spinning into the gnolls' midst. Immediately behind it, he plunged into their ranks, bloody sword in hand. The closest gnoll threw its furry arms up. It could have been no more than a cub, barely trained in combat and hopelessly outmatched. Jouka's single darting lunge was enough to plunge his blade past the futilely warding arms and into the gnoll's gut. The creature staggered to its knees with a look of terrified astonishment across its drawn muzzle. Savagely Jouka slashed the blade free, ripping the wound open to complete the job, his eyes already alighting on another gnoll.
Their leaders onslaught released the other Vani warriors from their hesitation. With a communal rush, the band hurled itself upon the gnolls in a flood of savagery. Hopelessly overwhelmed, the creatures staggered and reeled under the Vani charge, futilely trying to lash out even as they fell with a howl of agonized terror. A chorus of blades flashed, first silver, then bloodstained, as the gnomes hacked blindly at their enemies even after the beasts were long dead.
