Feeling the pangs of regret, Erik took a deep breath and looked away from Kinsey to the woods beyond. Taking a human wife had never worked out well for Erik. At least, the ending of such relationships had never worked out. This had been his third time to take a human wife, the third time he’d had to bury one, the third time he’d felt the pain of loss. This time, however, he had been given a son. Someone long-lived enough to reminisce with; a luxury he had been without for nearly two centuries.
Kinsey struggled with his mother’s passing as much as Erik. A deep sorrow had taken hold of his son. The sorrow in and of itself wasn’t the problem; the remedy Kinsey chose to break free of the sadness, however, was an entirely different matter. Instead of using meditation as Erik had taught him, Kinsey spent most of his time brooding, employing anger as his outlet. Kinsey, of course, had always been a brooder but it had never come to anything serious. Until recently. Confrontations with his superiors had become more frequent and Erik had been afraid Kinsey would be thrown in the stockade for his last scuffle.
Lord Banlor Graves was a man of formidable power and not someone to have as an enemy; yet now, he was one. Erik didn’t know the details of the exchange that had transpired between his son and the powerful nobleman, but he knew the meeting had ended with Kinsey slamming Graves against a wall. A breach in etiquette with irreversible consequences, to be sure. In a way, this was Kinsey’s last chance to save face with the governing body of Waterfall Citadel.
“All right, let’s move out!” Kinsey shouted.
The words snapped Erik out of his contemplation. He hopped off the rock with practiced ease and made his way to Kinsey to tell him of his intentions.
“You needn’t worry, I have personally made sure things will go smoothly...” Chancellor Tomelen was saying to his personal entourage as Erik walked by. Being one of the people actually responsible for the safety of the caravan, Erik hoped the chancellor was correct. Getting into a skirmish with the Wildmen could prove disastrous for their little band.
“Be careful,” said Kinsey as he and Erik clasped hands.
“Always.” Erik smiled. “You as well.” He then headed deep into the Winewood.
Once found, the trail would be easy to follow. Erik didn’t think Rouke would have a problem leading the escort through the twisting paths made by the indigenous wildlife.
The heavy clop of hooves on hard-packed earth and an occasional snort or whicker from the horses gave Erik notice that the escort was close enough behind him to find the trail without further assistance. He broke several branches along the trail, just to be sure, before departing. Wanting to be in position before the group got too close to the Wildmen camp, he trotted off soundlessly into the dense forest. If Erik was good at one thing, it was moving through woods unheard and unseen.
Smoke from the Wildmen campfires drifted slowly up into the canopy above. Erik had found a good position to spy on the camp atop a thick winewood branch twenty feet from the forest floor. The encampment was quiet; only a few of the figures below stirred. Most were out of sight, hidden in their hide-covered tents.
Erik gently pulled his bow from his shoulder and arranged the quiver of arrows at his waist to a more manageable position. If things went badly, he could at least buy the escort some time by taking out a few of those wargs.
The camp consisted of several small groupings of tent-like structures and cooking fires that scattered amongst the trees in no particular order. The Wildmen themselves were comprised of not just men, but goblins and hobgoblins as well. The three species rarely coexisted, let alone worked well together, but the need for survival can overcome many differences. The men appeared similar to humans of the northern realms, only more ragged and hard-faced. The goblins were far different; very short, perhaps three feet in height, with a ruddy, green tint to their skin, and large distended noses and wicked mouths containing many sharp, rotten teeth. Intelligent and extremely devious, goblins tended to be responsible for most of the raids that came from the Savage Lands. The hobgoblins were similar to men but larger, with flat, broad noses and short tusks. Far stronger and infinitely more vicious than the other two species, hobgoblins ruled with brute force and intimidation. A demonstration played out below, as one of the hulking brutes bullied a group of humans out of what appeared to be their personal belongings.
Erik settled on his branch. No sense in being uncomfortable while spying on your enemies, he thought. He shifted so he would have a clear view of the wargs.
The minutes dragged on as the camp began to stir. The smell of cooking food rousted more of the savages from their sleep. Many of the figures below stretched the stiffness out of their muscles as they came out from under their tents.
The distant scream of an injured horse pierced the late-morning calm and echoed through the trees into the encampment, causing all below to go still. All of the wargs were on their feet and facing the direction of the noise in seconds, their ears perked intently.
Erik bolted upright. He quickly nocked an arrow and looked down at the Wildmen camp, which exploded into action once the telltale sound of prey faded in the distance. He took aim at one of the massive, wolf-like creatures below. “So much for things going smoothly.”
Kinsey watched helplessly as the packhorse tumbled into the ravine below, supplies and tackle littering the ground in its wake. He turned to the remaining line of men walking their horses. “Mount up! Ride!”
The armored veterans swung up into their saddles with ease and grace, as they had done a thousand times before. The chancellor and his band of fops, however, took to their horses as pigs take to ice. Although each was an accomplished rider, none of their lives had ever depended on their skill. Clawing at their mounts in panic, the noblemen only incited the beasts to frenzy. Several horses rolled their large, dark eyes back to white and kicked their forelegs in fear, throwing well-dressed men to the ground in heaps.
Kinsey shook his head. The scene would’ve been laughable, if the situation were not so dire. The wargs would be upon them soon, and the circus act being displayed before him was only wasting precious time. Kinsey cursed in frustration and mounted his own horse. He spurred his steed forward amongst the panicked animals. He grabbed their reins, bringing them under control long enough for the aristocrats to scramble up onto their saddles. “Ride!” Kinsey growled to each as he shoved the reins into their hands.
The haunting howls of the wargs rang through the morning mist, heralding their fast approach. Kinsey helped the last man, Chancellor Kesh himself, onto his steed. Once in his saddle, the chancellor just sat, paralyzed with fear, unable to spur his mount into motion.
Clenching his jaw, Kinsey slapped the backside of Kesh’s mount. “Move, you fool!”
The chancellor’s mount took off as if it were doused in flames, kicking up dust while it ran along the game trail at breakneck speed. Kesh clung to the reins for dear life, his arms and legs flailing about, trying to find a hold on the horse beneath him.
“Kinsey!” screamed the chancellor in a high-pitched voice that carried through the woods.
Kinsey dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and thundered off after the screaming nobleman, knowing the wargs would be hot on his trail in a few moments. Kinsey also knew they could never outrun the wargs, but if they put enough distance between themselves and the Wildmen camp, there was a chance of engaging only the large, wolf-like beasts instead of the entire tribe. Otherwise, the conflict would be the end of them all.
Kinsey spurred his horse to greater speeds and closed the ground between him and Chancellor Tomelen. Kinsey weighed close to twenty stone and was afraid Dak, his massive percheron, couldn’t last at this pace for long. Large spots of foamy sweat had already started to coat Dak’s thick neck by the time they caught up with the chancellor.
Kesh was still not in control of his mount, but he managed to hang on despite his teetering and the horse’s lightning pace. The trail was too narrow for Kinsey to ride alongside Kesh, so he was forced to slow down.
Kinsey looked over his shoulder for sign of the wargs. He sighed in relief at seeing only billowing clouds of dust and the blur of massive trees behind them. The brief respite gave his thoughts time to drift to Erik; had he escaped? Was he safe? He would have to circle back to try and find his adopted father once the escort had made it to safety.
A terrified scream escaped from Kesh.
Kinsey whipped his head around just in time to see the chancellor and his horse go over the cliff of a ravine that cut straight through the game trail. He watched horse and rider suspended in midair for what seemed an eternity. Kesh’s robes and satchels billowed in the wind like the great flags adorning the walls of Waterfall Citadel. The horse’s forelegs stretched out in anticipation of the impact on the far side of the ravine and landed on the edge of the embankment. The mare’s hindquarters slammed into the sloping wall of the ravine and sent the chancellor flying from his saddle into the underbrush.
Desperately, Kinsey pulled back on the reins, his heavily corded arms going taut with the effort. The shift in momentum was so abrupt that he found himself dismounted, sailing over the horse’s head. He tucked into a somersault and landed at the base of the ravine, feet first. Kinsey rolled with his fall in an attempt to save his legs from shattering on impact. His actions were successful, for the small price of having the wind knocked out of him.
Kinsey lay in stunned silence and tried to blink away the haziness as Dak made his way down into the ravine with quick, choppy steps. He could hear the chancellor’s horse scramble up onto the game trail and stamp its hooves impatiently, waiting for someone to give it direction.
Kinsey filled his lungs with deep gulps of air and groaned. Expending colossal effort, he willed his arms and legs into sluggish motion to right himself.
“Chancellor!” Kinsey cried out hoarsely as he stumbled to his feet. “Get to your horse!”
The wargs howled in response, coming ever closer.
“Chancellor Tomelen!”
Kinsey staggered to his horse and pulled his battle axe from its harness. Using the weapon as a cane and grabbing hold of Dak’s tail, Kinsey urged the beast up the sloping wall of the ravine toward the spot where Kesh had disappeared.
“Dammit, Kesh, you better not be dead!” Kinsey demanded as he reached the top of the ravine. He spotted one of the chancellor’s boots poking out from the thick underbrush.
Kinsey stumbled past Dak. Once near the chancellor, he knelt down beside the richly dressed body and pushed back the large leaves that covered it. Kinsey gently turned the body over, fearing the worst. He was relieved to find only light scratches and bruises on Kesh’s face and hands. The chancellor’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, but his eyes did not open.
Kinsey ran his hand down the back of the chancellor’s neck and spine to see if anything was broken. He found no abnormal bulges or recesses upon his inspection and laid the unconscious nobleman on the ground once more. “Thank Eos.”
A low, guttural growl came from across the ravine. Dak screamed as a snarling shadow landed on his back. Kicking and bucking, he galloped off, Kesh’s mount following close behind.
Kinsey went very still, licked his dry lips, and cursed softly. He wasn’t sure if they’d made it far enough away from the Wildmen camp, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He would have to fight. Kinsey tightened his grip on the double-headed axe and turned to face his pursuers.
Erik sprinted across the hazardous ground. His feet stepped lightly from root to root with such surety, it would seem to anyone who might have observed that he moved along a smooth, marble floor. Huge tree trunks passed in a blur of motion, and small shafts of light penetrated the canopy from high above, lighting his way along the forest floor.
After putting one of the wolf-beasts down, Erik was forced to chase the remaining four. Two of which carried goblin warriors armed with short swords, handaxes, and the intent to kill. Warg riders were a particularly nasty breed of goblin. Surviving not only the day-to-day life as a member of such a horrid species but also working so closely with a vicious carnivore made for a nasty goblin indeed.
He could no longer hear the yells of the Wildmen that trailed far behind. They could not match his pace. The terrain was too dense and their dexterity not so developed. Erik was counting on this in hopes of putting distance between the escort and the bulk of the Wildmen encampment. He was quite delighted to see his hopes were coming to fruition.
A sharp, whining howl sounded ahead of him but was cut short. Kinsey’s battle cry echoed through the trees like a blasting horn.
Erik pushed his legs harder until they burned from the effort and his lungs caught fire from the quick breathing needed to sustain such a pace. Thoughts of Kinsey raced through his mind. His son would take rearguard, Erik was sure of that, but had others stayed behind to help him? There were too many foes for one man to defend against; he knew Kinsey would be too bullheaded to retreat. If it came to it, his half-dwarven son would willingly sacrifice himself for the safety of the escort. Erik could not allow that to happen.
He saw the shadows of the warg riders gliding between the trees just ahead, their silhouettes standing out against the bright light of some clearing that lay before them. The goblins swung their axes over their heads, screeching their own wicked battle cries, as they raced toward Kinsey’s bellowing.
Erik’s lungs were set to burst when he finally reached the clearing, which turned out to be a ravine. He could hear the thumping of his heart as it tried to keep up with his sharp gasps. He came to a sliding halt at the ravine’s edge, almost toppling into the crevice, but managed to maintain his balance by waving his arms frantically. Not the greatest example of agility, but he managed to keep his footing and didn’t go over the side. Erik looked across the gap to find Kinsey, alone, battling against the warg riders on the far side of the ravine.
Dammit, Kinsey, he thought.
A riderless beast lay motionless at Kinsey’s feet, its flank opened wide, exposing entrails and puddles of gore. But the two other wargs were far from dead. One latched on to Kinsey’s arm with its giant maw, biting down with razor-sharp teeth and trying to shake the half-dwarf to pieces. Its rider flopped around uselessly, still strapped to the saddle, a massive, two-headed axe protruding from its chest. The other goblin sneered in delight as it attempted to maneuver its mount into a position to attack Kinsey from behind.
Forgetting the pain in his chest and his overexerted muscles, Erik nocked an arrow, took aim, and let loose.
Kinsey knew he was going to die. The first warg had gone down easily, but the two goblin riders and their axes had been unexpected. He didn’t have much time before his opponents outmaneuvered him.
He grimaced under the pressure of his arm guard warping as the warg’s teeth clamped down on the dense metal like a blacksmith’s vice. The intense pain snapped Kinsey out of his thoughts of death, if only for the moment. He hauled himself closer to the beast and looped his free arm around the back of the beast’s head.
The warg hesitated in its savage assault. The mangy beast took deep breaths and drooled thick, carrion-smelling saliva down Kinsey’s arm.
Using his last remaining bits of hope and anger, Kinsey planted his feet and hauled the warg’s head up and backward. A mighty roar filled with fear and rage erupted from deep within him. He squeezed the warg’s neck into his chest and pushed its head backward with all his strength. If he was to die, so be it, Kinsey thought, but he would not die alone.
The beast began to struggle in a panicked frenzy, tearing again at Kinsey’s arm.
Heavy cords of muscle bulged along Kinsey’s arms as he strained against the scrabbling beast. Kinsey’s mind had become overrun with rage, all else forgotten but the moment of struggle within the bloodlust that suddenly consumed him. He let loose another deafening roar. His muscles flexed again in a final attempt to end the conflict. Their bodies stood intertwined, frozen in a test of strength and will.
A loud snap rang out and the mass
ive wolf-beast went limp.
Kinsey stumbled forward from the sudden lack of resistance and fell on top of the ruined warg. His trapped arm came free and he rolled across the warg’s body to get to his feet.
The other warg and its rider should have already been upon him, tearing him to pieces. He searched desperately for his weapon and instead found the reason for his enemy’s delay. The warg and its goblin master lay riddled with arrows, their eyes open wide in surprise and filled with the far-off gaze of death.
He closed his eyes and gave thanks to Eos, letting the exhaustion seep into his weary muscles.
“Well, I suppose that could have gone worse,” Erik huffed from behind him.
Kinsey looked around and barked a laugh that was part relief, part hysteria. He motioned to the two dead wargs, “Good thing you caught up when you did. I was about to become breakfast for these two.”
Erik looked down at Kinsey’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks to you.” Kinsey rubbed his arm. It hurt terribly. The vambrace would have to be cut off, but there was no blood, so he pushed the pain away. He chuckled at his winded father. “You sound like an old woman trying to catch her breath after crossing the kitchen.”
Erik rolled his eyes and grinned. “Some days are better than others.”
Kinsey smiled warmly and breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Erik had not been harmed. Turning from his comrade, Kinsey grabbed hold of his axe with both hands and yanked it free of its goblin sheath.
Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) Page 3
