They immediately ran to Kunther, grabbed his arms roughly by the armpits, and dragged him out to the front of the house at the edge of the road. They dropped him onto the dirt without warning.
Kunther did not move for many minutes as he lay there in pain. His first movement was to feel his nose. It hurt, but he found that it had stopped bleeding. He noticed that the sand that had packed into his nose from the fall must have blocked the flow and helped the bleeding to stop. His wrist ached and it felt three times its original size. His ribs sent searing pain to his side with every breath.
He was afraid to move for fear of feeling more pain or discovering new bruises. Feeling the pain throb throughout his body, he told himself that he would stay there a few minutes longer. The pain was intense and Kunther felt that he could sleep.
He did not fight it, and he drifted off into a half sleep with visions of the attack of the goblin tribe in Valewood. He saw the burning hutches, homes, and the evil creatures running through the streets, screaming like wild animals, as he hid behind a booth that was selling pottery. The owner of the booth was dead and lay on the ground with an arrow in his throat. His eyes were wide open and his hands, frozen already from rigor mortis, wrapped around the base of the arrow. Kunther lay on the ground next to the dead man and watched from underneath the booth.
He also remembered seeing a man in a dark robe who did not fight, but only walked slowly behind the monsters. Kunther had only seen him that short moment during the battle, and all he did was follow his gronts and walk slowly behind them, moving his hands in precarious motions and mumbling strange words aloud. Kunther remembered the fear he felt seeing the man and seeing another figure who came out from of the wilderness.
The witch, he remembered, was a tall, beautiful woman who had skin of fire, barely noticeable, but on fire just the same. Kunther stared at the woman and forgot his fears briefly as he watched the nearly naked woman as she approached the man in the dark robes.
When she reached him, she had a short conversation with him, a conversation that Kunther had not remembered until just now. She had told him that if they couldn’t find the swordsman, they needed the girl, not any girl, but a specific girl. Kunther didn’t understand what that meant. Why Aaelie, he thought.
Before they finished their conversation, one of the villagers charged them. Kunther watched in fear as the fire upon the woman’s skin began to ignite brightly. Her back quickly caught on fire, and out of the flames, a set of wings formed upon her back. Her face twisted and wrinkled, becoming disfigured, and large fang-like teeth grew out of her mouth.
The attacking man stopped in mid stride and screamed as she grabbed his throat with her talon-like hands and bit into the side of his head before she dropped his lifeless body to the ground. Kunther turned his head. He did not look out into the street again until the whole affair was over.
The remembrance of that day now made Kunther weep in his painful delirium.
Kunther woke abruptly when a rider on horseback almost ran him over, but then continued past him up the road to the ranch. The man brought his horse to a stop in front of the house and loosely tied it to a post. “Merkal!” he yelled. “I need your help!”
The man dismounted and ran in between the house and the stables and out towards the corrals. Kunther lifted his throbbing head and noticed that the man’s horse was fully saddled and had two bags hanging across its shiny flank.
Kunther forced himself to stand up and walk towards the horse, but every muscle in his body pounded as he moved. His wrist throbbed harder, now that he was standing, and the pain made his stomach upset. He thought for a moment that he might vomit. It took him several minutes to limp to the horse, and he felt every step. It seemed to him at one point he was not going to make it without passing out.
“Easy now,” Kunther said when he finally reached the horse.
He took the reins off the post. He took a deep breath and winced in pain, but he forced himself to grab the saddle horn, place his foot in the stirrup, and weakly lift his body up and over the saddle. He slumped over the horse’s neck, but then he slowly pulled himself erect.
“Let’s go!” he commanded and he turned the horse around and headed out of town and away from the ranch. This time the horse ran, and Kunther might have even enjoyed the ride if it were not for the pain that seemed to increase every time the horse jarred his ribs with its long strides.
Within minutes, he was leaving Hollenwood, relieved to be riding away from the stinking village for the last time. Now he just had to reach Daevanwood.
It should be a relatively easy ride, he thought. First, he had to travel through thirty miles of the Torrelenwood forest and then for another thirty miles past that to Daevanwood. It was mid afternoon and he would have to ride all night just to make it before sunrise. It was good that the sun stayed in the sky until mid evening during the early days of Doreal or his travelling would be slowed considerably by a sun that set as early as it did in the Ethinar.
Kunther was pleased that he had a fresh horse to ride through the night. Though he did not know how far its previous owner had ridden him, he guessed it wasn’t too far because the horse wasn’t all that sweaty when he had mounted it.
Kunther’s ride was once again, back in his own hands. All he had to worry about was staying on the trail and not falling off his horse. If he could accomplish those two things, he knew he could make it to Daevanwood. After that, the rest of his fate -- and his friends’ -- would be up to Commander Carsti Balron.
Chapter 17
For four days Fyaa, Ra-Corsh and the Fire Gronts dragged Aaelie through the deep woods of the lowland shrub forest of Valewood that eventually led into the tall, tightly knitted pine trees and often rocky terrain of the Goblin Tribes Forest. Now they stood at the point of the forest where the link between two forests met, the Death Pass.
That dangerous gap was where the low rolling mountain forest of the Valelands ended and met the steep rugged mountainous forest of the Goblin Tribes Forest. Two towering, rocky cliffs faced each other like brothers facing each other in combat, and the pass between them divided the two cliffs with a narrow path that invited a simple entrance to the wickedly thick forest that so many dangerous creatures called their home.
Ra-Corsh signaled his gronts to stop and take cover. Scrambling noisily through the trees, the gronts drew their crude blades and crouched to await further instructions. The two gronts guarding Aaelie pushed her to the ground face down, knocking all of the air out of her lungs, and the gront behind her took a handful of her hair and pushed her face further into the rocky dirt. The other gront turned around and straddled her back with his sword to the back of her neck.
Fyaa immediately sensed danger and her wings un-tucked from her back and caught fire. She took to the air, flew in between the massive cliffs, and scouted the gap thirty feet above ground. She left a trail of sparks dropping from her wings.
Ra-Corsh watched her fly into the massive gap as late afternoon shadows stretched themselves over each other. Large, crag-like boulders with towering pine trees made up the high formation of the cliffs and on the lower steps of the cliffs grew bush-like vegetation. The large forest could be seen through the end of the chasm like a dark, ominous wall forbidding any intruders or daring them with their lives to enter.
A small trail snaked its way through the center of the valley where tall pine trees had once stood. The stumps of these massive trees were left behind when the tribes had first burned the trees and cut them down, and some of the trees still lay where they were cut. The Goblin Tribes had burned, cut and removed the trees to gain the tactical advantage in an ambush by taking away all possible hiding spots in the pass.
Most travelers who came through the pass did not survive unless they came through at a time when
the tribe on watch was napping or during a shift change when the guards were distracted. But either napping or distracted, they rarely missed an opportunity for an exciting kill. Even members of the same tribe would send some of their own through the pass for discipline or to be fired upon just for the sake of practice. The Goblins loved to do that for it was good fun and excitement on any normally dull day.
Fyaa’s first pass through the canyon was uneventful, but on her return trip, the ambushers were eager to be redeemed from their earlier laziness and they filled the air with arrows and spears. Fyaa flew too fast for them and returned to the entrance unscathed when all the arrows either sailed behind or dropped well below her flight path. When Ra-Corsh saw her returning, he began concentration on his magical Wrae and zoned his attention onto Fyaa.
Fyaa flew over Ra-Corsh’s head, just above the tree line, and small, dart-like projectiles left his fingertips at a high rate of speed toward the rocks on both sides of the cliffs. They hit their targets and exploded in the areas where the Goblins were readying for the next pass from Fyaa. Ra-Corsh’s projectiles sent rocks, dust and debris flying high into the air and down into the canyon. A few goblins tumbled down the cliff and were crushed by debris falling on top of them.
Afterward a large cloud of dust obscured the opening of the gap.
Next Ra-Corsh reached deep within his Kronn, concentrated on the dust and made it as dark and thick as mud, like a hovering rain cloud. Lightning even coursed through the dust cloud and Ra-Corsh smiled a little. That little trick turned out to be better than he expected.
The lead gront saw the cover that Ra-Corsh had created and took advantage by signaling all the gronts to rush into the gap. Out of the woods they charged, but only briefly showed themselves in the open clearing in front of the dust cloud. The goblins behind the rocks and bushes began firing their arrows and spears at the open spot and toward the beginning of the dark dust cover.
Three gronts slipped into the dust, but a fourth and fifth gront took numerous arrows to their chests which penetrated their thick hide. Wounded and in pain, they continued on their feet still while running for cover.
The two gronts that were guarding Aaelie were the last to charge into the dust bank, and when they did, Ra-Corsh covered Aaelie with an invisible shield to protect her from the projected missiles. He watched Aaelie’s body shimmer briefly as she entered into the cloud. A green aura then wrapped her body before she disappeared from sight completely.
“Are you coming wizard or are you afraid?” a calm voice whispered from behind Ra-Corsh. He was easily brought out of his momentary concentration because his three spells in just a matter of minutes had nearly drained him of his mental and physical senses.
“Go, you witch…” he managed. “I can only do a little more.”
Fyaa smiled at Ra-Corsh. Her body began to shimmer and then began to mold into a new shape.
“Then I won’t wait,” she said. Small wisps of flames shot out from her wings and left small trails of smoke behind her. Then, while she was flying, her wings shrank and her whole body sprouted feathers before she turned into a small sparrow flittering away through the canyon.
Ra-Corsh exhaled and began a new incantation that involved a series of mechanical maneuvers with his weak and aching fingers. After a few minutes of aggravated and uncomfortable contortions, Ra-Corsh’s body lifted off the ground and he too flew up into the sky above the valley. None of the goblins saw him and he flew quickly above their heads above the cover of the woods in front of the entrance of the pass.
Ra-Corsh’s concentration on the dust cover protecting the gronts began to change even darker, and the lightning shooting within the cloud sent out bolts that targeted any living object. They hit both gronts and goblins indiscriminately, but they only lasted a few seconds. When they ended, nothing remained of the cloud.
It had not killed any of the targets, but it did daze a few of them and left a handful of gronts on their knees, attempting to stand and to clear themselves of the newly exposed danger. The goblins saw this and began tossing their spears and launching their arrows at the gronts.
Ra-Corsh thought to himself that he had reacted too soon. He knew that casting numerous spells would lessen the intensity of his previous spells. He also would not be able to control his Kronn as effectively as if he were rested. He was tired, and he let that damn witch intimidate him into hurrying. Now he would lose some gronts and possibly even Aaelie with his carelessness. Fyaa would blame him for losing Aaelie -- even if it was from her intimidation -- but, of course, she would not see it that way.
Below him, two gronts dropped to the ground under a new barrage of spears and arrows. Many more still were wounded, but running. The spell around Aaelie still held strong, which was lucky, Ra-Corsh thought, since the goblins were now aiming directly at the vale-girl. And it was just luck, he knew, because the spell that protected Aaelie was a simple spell and did not require much concentration to cast it or to keep it.
The gronts were now completely in the open and another gront went down. Ra-Corsh sighed. Just a few hundred feet more and they would be into the forest on the other side.
He could hear the gronts grunting and groaning in their fear to scramble away from the projectiles and get across the clearing. Such pathetic creatures sometimes, he thought. They were hardy, combative and aggressive creatures in hand to hand combat, and great in large numbers, especially when they were on the side with the advantage, but when they were at a disadvantage, or just slightly weak in numbers, they quickly became quite cowardly.
As Ra-Corsh approached the forest, still undetected by the goblins, he looked down and witnessed a handful of his gronts either lying in their own blood pools or squirming in pain as they relinquished the last breaths of what he thought were their pathetic little lives. He briefly considered returning to help a few that might survive their wounds, but just as quickly, he thought against it. It would not serve any purpose to get himself wounded or killed, and the surviving gronts knew this and would honor his decision. They knew they would only be alive because of him. They counted on his magical abilities, and they knew they could not survive this mission without him.
They also did not want to have to face Fyaa without his protection from her. If he died, they would clearly dissipate and attempt to escape, and that would cause Fyaa to go on a rampage and hunt down and kill all of them.
Yes, Ra-Corsh thought to himself, it was time to cut his losses and leave the dead and wounded behind.
Once on the other side of the Death Pass, he regrouped the surviving gronts and lined them up so that he could get a good count of them. The pine trees on this side of the pass were taller and thicker than the low scrub pines on the other side and they had an old growth smell to them. The ground underneath felt soft under his feet from hundreds of years of needle droppings. The pine dew smell permeated the air. Ferns grew sporadically, scattered across the whole floor, as the canopy above offered little more than slightly variegated sunlight.
Ten gronts was all he had left from his initial two dozen.
He had already lost a handful of them in the battle at the village -- even though he had not expected to lose a single gront there – and now he would need as many as he could to make a stand against the goblins, and possibly against the swordsman, if he lived long enough to make it through the pass with his amateur villagers.
Ra-Corsh rubbed his bearded chin with his knuckles. He decided that he was not going to worry any further about those chasing them. They were now in his territory. Even if they were foolish enough to follow and make it through the pass, there would be numerous other tribes eager to engage them and slaughter them all without much bloodshed on their side, no matter how experienced their swordsman. He knew he needed Alaezdar to survive and follow them to the end, but at this
point he really did not care. He was getting tired of this whole endeavor.
Besides, they still had a five-day trek to meet their rendezvous with the goblin tribe, the Bloody Fang Tribe. Ra-Corsh laughed to himself just thinking about their tribal name. All the tribes had picked up names for their clans which had been fashioned after some of the human and elven warriors they had defeated. They had learned to read and appreciate the fancy artwork on the banners of kingdoms picked up off the ground after they had slaughtered their enemies, many of them to the last man. Some tribes had local homes while others wandered as nomads, but no tribe had organized or mapped out borders to mark where each tribe lived. All that had really mattered -- or was respected -- was the size of the tribe and its quest for total dominance of the surrounding area.
The Bloody Fang Tribe was not the fiercest tribe in the forest, but it was likely the most cunning. Its leader, Commander Pencog, had given himself the title of commander, not as a real rank, but rather as a title chosen from hearing it from those that he had been victorious over. It had become common for goblin leaders to assume such titles once they had learned a common language, and Pencog had followed along in this practice.
Before encountering the humans, tribes had annihilated each other through incessant battles amongst themselves until they discovered this new prey to attack in the form of humans. All of the tribes within the forest battled against each other with no permanent allies. Even though one tribe might ally with another tribe one day, at the dawn of the next day both tribes might end up fighting each other again.
The humans had crossed into the forest seeking knowledge and adventure at first, in the form of glory and fame. Mostly they searched for lost artifacts in the forest itself or within the fabled ruins of the Halls of Dar-Drannon to the Northeast.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 23
