Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (24 page)

14

Into
the Unknown

      
Lord Silverwing was already far from
Zanthfar as his messenger set out to rescue Gregor from the Black Hands. The
last remaining original Knight of the Golden Dragon found the company he kept
was well chosen for their task, and the journey into the mountains had gone
largely without incident. He could have had no way to know his destiny was laid
out before him long ago. The knight had departed the gathering accompanied by
the strongest and most resourceful rangers and druids that were available. Thirty-five
strong men and women were now part of this largest incursion into the forsaken
volcanoes. Soon the sturdy trees that dared the ragged mountainside would give
way to the scrub brush and hardy grasses of Master Stonecutter's homeland.

Silverwing
took some time to review the composition of the group he and Fasurel led into
the mountains. Fasurel was still a mystery to the knight. He spoke little,
favoring action over the broken words of his people, to demonstrate his
capabilities. The mountain man was well thought of by the others of his clan
that traveled with the mixed band of warriors and priests. Three mountain
rangers that had accompanied Fasurel to Zanthfar spoke of him in a way that
bordered on reverence. They said that many of their clan would join them once
the party drew near their homes. Fasurel only shrugged when Silverwing
questioned him about this, saying that he would take no more than the villages
could spare. Master Stonecutter saw no reason to diminish the numbers of
protectors that were still in the mountains. “We be strong in spirit and arms,
Lord Silverwing, an' those with us will serve.” Fasurel's words echoed now in
Silverwing's mind. The statement left no room for discussion at the time,
reinforcing Fasurel’s reticence.

 
Fifteen forest dwellers filled their ranks as
well. The wood rangers’ weapons, which consisted of short well-tended swords
and longbows, were in sharp contrast to the heavy picks and axes favored by the
mountain rangers. The sturdy, broad mountain men wore the only heavy armor
among the members of the group, each suited in loose fitting chain mail. The
chosen protection of the others ranged from light leathers to the heavily
studded leather plates Fasurel himself favored. The two Ardataure, the long-lived
people that were the protectors of the Ancient Forest, were the ones that
Silverwing found the most curious. Each was armed with a longbow that measured
his full height and was made of a wood that Silverwing could not identify. The
pair also carried small daggers, little more than keen knives, for close
confrontations, however Silverwing doubted anyone or anything ever got very
close. They moved with no more sound than spirits, disturbing nothing where
they passed. Each kept a falcon as a companion, which made them excellent
scouts. Few creatures escaped their attention, and they interpreted the
movements of the natural beasts well, allowing the group to have a good deal of
warning concerning potential threats. Silverwing had found it curious at first
that the pair of Ardataure sent their companions back to the woods before
entering the forsaken mountains, however their reasoning soon became clear. One
Ardataure explained that there was little use in putting their companions at
risk within the harsh lands that were their destination. Silverwing had seen
the wisdom in that and suggested that the mountain men might release their
charges as well. Fasurel had only laughed before giving an answer to that
thought. “
Ya
thinkin
'? That
be something
ya
not likely see. Lizards
tha
’ follow us built a’ hardier stuff and not likely
ta
go without a boot. Las' one
tha
'
got a boot took a leg wit' the boot, so don't wait
ta
see that.”

Silverwing
nodded in understanding and posed a question to Fasurel that had tugged at his
mind for some time. “Why do you not have a companion, Master Stonecutter?”

Fasurel's
smile faded, his eyes wet as he turned to the fire, avoiding Silverwing's gaze.
“No, no companion
fer
some time. He was a terror, he
was. '
Fraid
a’
nothin
’ an'
sadly that was what undone '
im
. Kilt a bunch
a
’ orcs 'fore they had '
im
. Poor
Claw, '
e
never knew
wha
'
hit '
im
and I should be glad for it. The one
tha
' put the bolt in '
im
paid
tho
', be sure a’ that. Kilt the ones
tha
'
Claw
didn
' then tracked that bastard three days and
nights till I tore '
im
apart.
Didn
'
bring me Claw back
ta
life but I keep ‘
im
‘ere.” Fasurel tapped his chest as Silverwing brought a
hand to the mountain man's shoulder. Silverwing found tears of his own tracing
down his face as his new friend finished speaking. The knight would not fully
understand the meaning behind Fasurel's words for a few more days.

***

Master
Stonecutter joined Lord Silverwing at the fire. His concern was evident as the
mountain man dropped his solid form next to the ranger. “We '
ave
no words from the tree dweller gone scouting. Don' care
for the lack,
knowin
’ those demon bloods were so near
last word. The one
bein
' in camp
gettin
'
jumpy too as his partner
hasn
' come back. No good us
staying 'ere so long.
Goin
' need some ground under
our feet soon. Jus' what I be
thinkin
'.”

Silverwing
had hoped for better news but the mountain man's words were no surprise to the
knight. “We cannot commit more scouts to find the others. Break up those that
remain into small groups and have them spread out in a rough perimeter. The
demon bloods behind us have the numbers on their side, but I do not think they
are pursuing us. We need to take them off guard and destroy them before they
reach the mountains. Too many innocents will be sacrificed if they do.”

“
Whatcha
thinkin
' to do for
yourself, Lord Silverwing? Don' want you going off by yourself and get yourself
kilt now. We fall as one or not at all, and I prefer not at all.” The strength
of conviction in the man's tone made Silverwing certain there would be no
arguing with him.

“I
am going hunting, my friend, and it would appear from your words that you are,
too. Disperse the others and meet me back here at the fire. You and I will find
the demon bloods and draw them within range of the archers’ bows. Tell them to
watch for a signal before they move to strike. I want the creatures well within
the circles of light cast by our fires before the first arrow flies.” Lord
Silverwing stared into the fire, waiting for Master Stonecutter's reply.

“An'
what signal you
wantin
’ them to look to?” Master
Fasurel was more than ready to take the fight to the creatures that threatened
his homeland. Still this knight was a mystery to him, and for all the time they
had traveled together, the mountain man had yet to see the ranger draw his
weapons. Some things one just accepted on faith, he reflected as Lord
Silverwing answered his question.

“They
will know it when they see it. Just tell them to be ready and move as one when
they do. Fasurel, I need you to restrain your vigor once we meet these
creatures. I should have little trouble drawing their attention from range. You
should not engage the demon bloods until we know how many they number.” Lord
Silverwing's eyes studied the flames before him as he prayed in preparation for
the fight to come.

***

“Strike
now, Fasurel!” The small number of demon blooded orcs felt the bite of Lord
Silverwing's arrows as they scattered from the bonfire below. The silver tipped
points struck true, and the demon bloods burst into flame before collapsing in
a pile of ash. His quiver grew light with the speed of his shots, and Lord
Silverwing quickly secured his bow at his back before drawing his blades to
engage the creatures. Fasurel ran from the trees, flanking the creatures and
swinging his double-edged ax in wide circles to kill the demon bloods as
efficiently as possible. The sturdy mountain man was surprisingly nimble on his
feet, dipping below the long claws that appeared to be everywhere at once. The
brutal creatures' arms swept harmlessly over his stout form as Master
Stonecutter cleaved away the limbs of his foes. Lord Silverwing had little time
to admire the mountain man's skill. He faced an assault of his own as the
darkness nearby swelled with the sound of inhuman howling, and more demon
bloods flowed from the tree line.

His
powerful thrusts did little to turn away the first wave. Lord Silverwing
realized his error soon enough as his arcing blade tossed one of the creature's
heads into the air, dissolving the charging demon blood's form before its skull
struck the ground. Silverwing spared what breath he could to shout to Master
Stonecutter. “Take their heads!”

He
had no time to laugh at the loud reply. “I be
take’n
what I can!” The pile of writhing bodies that formed around the great ax
wielder gave truth to his words as he lifted the angle of its travel to take
them at their necks. Moments later the mountain man disappeared behind a grey
swirling cloud of disintegrated foes. It was not long before the uncoordinated
attackers were undone, and the two men met at the center of the camp.

“We
done
good
, I be
thinkin
'.”
Fasurel moved around the area, quickly beheading the demon bloods that still
lived. The man's height had made it easier to carve away their legs at the
start of the melee, and he was amazed to see the wicked creatures still clawing
after him with only their arms to carry them.

“Too
good.” The knight stared at the ground where he crouched near the tree line.
“Too many tracks leading out to account for the small number of them we faced.
It was a trap.” Without another word, Silverwing drew an arrow from his quiver
and shot it skyward. “We have to hurry!” The path of the arrow ignited and
burst into a brilliant shower of light as it began to fall toward the earth,
turning the moonless night into day. “God of Light save them, God save them
all.” The two warriors ran back toward where the other rangers had remained.

The
bright glow rapidly diminished from the sky, but Lord Silverwing could see all
he needed from the remaining light of the rangers’ campfires. Easily three
times the number of demon bloods Silverwing and Fasurel had slain formed loose
patrolling groups, moving inside the clearing near the now ransacked camp.
There was a rough circle of the creatures formed near the center of the
encampment the pair of leaders had so recently left as well. The inner circle
of creatures, growling and shouting in a language Lord Silverwing could not
decipher, surrounded a handful of rangers and druids, some lying prone while
others did what they could to heal the most wounded of their number. Some of
the demon bloods waved what appeared to be makeshift clubs at their captives.
The true nature of the weapons became apparent as several orcs within the
central group bit deeply into the clubs, rending flesh from the bones of the
limbs they carried. An unknowable number of his brethren had been torn apart,
taken by surprise as the waves of demon blooded orcs had swept into the
ranger’s camp. A loose outer ring had formed around the inner ring that was
taunting the captives. Each of the creatures forming that group faced outward,
searching the darkness, tossing a large oddly shaped stone between each of
their clawed hands.

“Their
'
eads
.” the mountain man’s solemn words confirmed
what Lord Silverwing had also suspected. “Their '
eads
!”
Fasurel’s bellow took Silverwing by surprise. The heads that had been torn from
the slain rangers and druids became projectiles, striking Fasurel as he charged
toward the demon bloods. Fasurel's fury awakened Silverwing’s own. A flurry of
arrows tore through the creatures nearest the trapped rangers just before the
knight dropped his bow and rushed into the crowd of demon bloods. The pair of
warriors hewed away the demon blood orcs that were directly in their path and
made their way toward the wounded, intent on protecting those that remained.
Silverwing tossed one of his swords at the feet of one of the less wounded
rangers and turned to begin his harvest. He shouted over his shoulder at the
young female as she took up the weapon. “Take their damned heads!” Instruction
proved unnecessary, as she had already begun swinging the long blade out to the
farthest reach of her toned arms. It was only moments before she disappeared
into a deep cloud of disintegrating orcs, with only the occasional flash of
firelight glimmering off the extended blade indicating she still moved. Lord
Silverwing's arms began to grow weary despite the economy of his killing. The
demon bloods would overwhelm them with sheer numbers if the battle lasted much
longer.