The Dwarf Kingdoms (Book 5) (23 page)

“I hope that it will be that easy,” replied Elerian doubtfully. “This adventure of ours has taken many an unexpected turn.”

“We are through the worst of it,” insisted Ascilius confidently, for acting according to the dictates of his volatile nature, his mood had swung from somberness to optimism. Draining the last of his wine, he beamed at Elerian, his warm, winy smile providing a sharp contrast to his warlike appearance. “Let us rest while now we can. Even you must feel tired after today’s events.”

“I must retrieve my sword and shield first,” replied Elerian. “I left them in a tree south of this meadow in order to move more easily through the forest.”

 “Why take such a risk now?” asked Ascilius disapprovingly. “At least wait until the sun rises.”

“I will be safe enough,” replied Elerian in an unconcerned voice. “I can always use my ring again if I encounter any Goblins.”

“Take this then in case your ring does not suffice to keep you out of trouble,” said the Dwarf handing Elerian a small horn with a silver mouthpiece and silver banding. “If I hear you wind this, I will come at once.”

“I am unlikely to need any help, but I will take your horn if it will ease your mind,” said Elerian obligingly as he slung the instrument’s leather strap over his left shoulder. Threading his way through the circled wagons with a light, silent step, he left Ascilius to seek out his blankets. The sentries guarding the outer ring of wagons shook their heads in disbelief as they watched Elerian enter the forest to the south of the meadow, for in their estimation, only a fool entered a wood full of Goblins alone at night.

Aware of the danger but not daunted by it, Elerian entered the gray and black world that was the forest at night. Ascending easily into the forest canopy, he ran lightly and silently down the length of one great branch after another, keeping close to the Dwarf road. It was almost first light when he reached the oak tree that held his gear, for he had taken many detours along the way, both to scout for signs of the enemy and to satisfy his curiosity. His found his sword and other gear where he had left them, at the junction of a wide branch and the main trunk of the tree, but he did not immediately pick them up.  

“Having come this far, I may as well continue on a bit,” he thought to himself. “I do not share Ascilius’s confidence that the greatest danger is now past.”

Leaving his two knives behind on the branch with his other gear, Elerian cast a shape-changing spell, his body flowing into the familiar outlines of a gray, black barred hawk beneath the golden cloak of the charm. Spreading his wings, he leaped into flight, darting agiley through gaps between the branches overhead until he rose above the forest canopy which stretched away beneath him in all directions like a dark ocean of leaves. An urge to soar and hunt, born in the hawk part of his brain, pressured Elerian’s will, but he thrust it aside, holding firm to his original purpose. Flying high above the Dwarf road, which was barely visible through the trees below him, he sped south, the wind of his passage smoothing his feathers and lifting him up like an invisible, supporting hand. To the east, the rising sun momentarily broke through the dark clouds that were gathering overhead. With his far seeing eyes, Elerian saw a single, bright pinpoint of light flash briefly on the western flank of far off Geminus.

 “That must be the Goblin host,” he thought to himself. “They must surely have marched all night to have come so far, but they are still better than thirty miles away. It seems that Ascilius’s optimism is justified, for they are more than a full day’s march behind the wagons.”

 Reassured, Elerian prepared to bank his wings and turn around, but a brief, shadowy flicker on the Dwarf road caught his attention. Flying farther south, he came upon a dark company traveling at a furious pace over the forest highway.

“An advance force,” thought Elerian to himself in dismay, for through gaps in the canopy below him, he briefly saw numerous Mordi in leather armor, all traveling light without packs or heavy gear, followed by the shaggy shapes of many mutare. On the shoulders of the road a mounted company of Urucs was visible through openings in the branches. No one paid any attention to Elerian as he soared overhead, for all in that dark company were intent on the road beneath their feet and their own weariness, for they had come a great distance in a short time.

“If they join with the Goblins already in the forest, they will have a host strong enough to overwhelm the Dwarves’ defenses if they overtake the wagons while they are strung out on the road,” thought Elerian to himself. “Ascilius must be warned of their approach as soon as possible.”

Deeply worried, he sped north, returning to the oak where he had left his gear. Darting through the canopy to the branch where he had left his things, he was met by the sight of Acer’s bright tip disappearing into a dark cavity in the trunk of the tree. Spreading his wings for balance, Elerian hopped to the opening and seized the blade with his beak. With a mighty backward tug that was aided by his flapping wings, he pulled his knife and the creature attached to it out into the open. Gripping Acer’s silver handle was a small, manlike creature about two feet high wearing brown pants and a green tunic. The indignant face he turned toward Elerian was nut-brown and had eyes black as currants. Although the creature’s ears were pointed like those of a Goblin, his eyes contained none of the cunning or malice endemic to that race.

“Let go, hawk!” shouted the manikin in a high, outraged voice. “I saw it first. It will make me a fine sword!”

With a tug and a twist of his neck, Elerian yanked his knife free of the creature’s slender, brown hands. Dropping the blade by his clawed feet, he cocked his head to the right, regarding the small thief with a curious, bright-eyed gaze.

“I seek only to reclaim what is mine,” replied Elerian in the common tongue, his hawk throat inflecting the words with notes that were both harsh and strident. The manikin almost tumbled backward at the sound of Elerian’s voice.

“A hawk has no need of steel,” replied the homunculus when he had overcome his initial surprise. “Sleep now and let me be!” he ordered, raising his left hand as he spoke.

With his third eye, Elerian saw a small golden orb leap from the tiny creature’s fingers. Opening his beak, Elerian cast a counter spell. The golden flare from the two spells countermanding each other had barely faded away before he cast a second charm, freezing the small manikin in his tracks.

“What are you?” demanded Elerian. “Answer truly and quickly or I will have you for my breakfast. I have no patience with thieves.” Loosening the magical bonds that held the creature’s mouth immobile, Elerian suggestively clicked his wickedly hooked beak.

“I am Tallanac, one of the Siogai,” replied the creature, a crafty expression entering his dark eyes. “Release me, bird, and I will reward you handsomely with a fat rabbit for your supper.”

“Where do you live?” asked Elerian, ignoring the offer of a bribe.

“Wherever I wish,” replied Tallanac, his expression suddenly turning both sullen and stubborn.

Elerian looked rather longingly at the round hole behind his tiny captive, wishing that he had more time to question the Siogai and perhaps explore the woody tunnel behind him, but he had already tarried longer than he ought to. He was on the point of releasing the manikin when Tallanac suddenly spoke again.

“If meat will not tempt you, then perhaps treasure will. Let me go and I will reward you with gold.”

“Go then,” replied Elerian, curious to see what Tallanac would do next. Ending the spell which held the Siogai captive, he watched warily as Tallanac raised his right hand. A small heap of gleaming gold coins suddenly appeared by the manikin’s tiny feet. Having fulfilled his promise, the Siogai spun on his right heel and hastily dove into his hole, the opening closing behind him with a sharp thump, so that no sign remained that the gap had ever existed. Opening his third eye, Elerian saw a swirl of green tinted light where the opening had been, a magical door which could be opened if one had the right spell. Turning his attention to the wicker basket, he saw the golden sheen of an illusion spell covering a small dark shape. Closing his third eye, Elerian watched as the illusion suddenly faded away of its own accord, revealing a small, dark coin made of rowan wood. Skillfully carved around its rim was a strange script which Elerian did not recognize, the writing worn as if the coin had passed through many hands over a period of long years. Smiling to himself, Elerian transformed himself back into his own shape.

“This could be a most useful gift,” he thought to himself as he picked up the wooden coin with his right hand. His smile widened as he imagined Eonis’s reaction to the sudden appearance of a heap of gold coins on the ground in front of him. Raising his right hand, Elerian sent the wooden coin to the place where he kept his spell book, watching with his third eye as a small orb of golden light conveyed it instantly through a tiny portal. Then, impatient to warn Ascilius that an outlier of the Goblin army was only a half day’s march behind the Dwarf caravan, he raced sure footedly north over the upper pathways of the forest.

GOBLIN WEATHER

By the time Elerian reached the burnt out way station, a sudden, light pattering on the leaves overhead signaled that the thickening clouds had begun to drop their burden of rain. The meadow near the inn was empty, but running tirelessly from branch to branch, Elerian soon overtook the Dwarf caravan, running out of sight through the forest to the right of the wagons until he reached the head of the line. There he found Ascilius maintaining a slow, steady trot on the right side of Eonis's wagon, his cloak drawn tightly around him as a protection against the rain. A relieved look appeared on his face when he saw Elerian, but his rugged features took on a grim cast when Elerian told him of what he had seen on the road behind them.

“It would seem that fortune as well as the weather has turned against us,” said Ascilius dourly. “If the company you saw overtakes us before we reach the Caldus, all is lost. We cannot fight them in the forest where they are strongest.”

“I will stay behind with a company of volunteers to delay the Umbrae while you go on with the wagons, Ascilius,” said Eonis surprisingly and unexpectedly from his seat on the lead wagon. “If you destroy the bridge over the river once you cross over, our people may yet reach Iulius ahead of the enemy.”

“The Goblins would not stop to fight you, uncle,” said Ascilius gloomily. “They would flow
around your force like water around a rock in a stream, for the wagons are their primary prey. Our only hope is to get on as fast as possible. No matter what happens today, we cannot stop the caravan, for the slightest delay puts everyone at risk.”

Ascilius had barely ceased to speak when the sudden sharp crack of lightning arcing across the leaden sky filled the air. Moments later, the rolling boom of thunder caused the ponies to whinny and toss their heads. The light rain turned into a heavy downpour, drawing a gray curtain over everyone and everything.

“This accursed rain will cost us dearly,” said Ascilius grimly to Elerian as they trotted beside Eonis’s wagon. “We shall pay in grief for every mile we travel today.”

Ascilius’s gloomy prediction proved all too accurate. Dwarf horns trumpeted alarm after alarm along the line of wagons as, under cover of the rain,  Goblins launched a series of quick attacks from one end of the column of wagons to the other. Most of the violence was directed against the ponies, the Mordi shooting them with arrows from the cover of the forest in an effort to stop the caravan. The shrill squeals of the poor beasts that were injured continually rent the air. The moment the Dwarves rallied to defend their beasts, the Wood Goblins faded back into the forest to strike somewhere else.

The canigrae that suddenly leaped through the curtain of rain shrouding the forest were even more deadly and disruptive. Dashing in between the Dwarf guards, they slashed at the ponies’ sides and flanks in an effort to panic them. Each time a wagon was overturned or dragged sideways by the frightened beasts, the caravan was forced to stop while horns blew in the forest, summoning the Wood Goblins hidden there. Attacking in force, they slew the guards who opposed them before breaking into the wrecked wagons and dragging off any Dwarf women and children they found there. When Dwarf warriors appeared in force, the Mordi fled into the forest, preferring to retreat rather than fight a pitched battle.

Elerian followed Ascilius from one end of the line of wagons to the other, running to answer the calls of the Dwarf horns, but each time they arrived at an ambush, the damage was already done and the Goblins were gone. Instead of fighting, they spent their time helping grim faced Dwarves drag the wreckage of wagons or the still bodies of slain ponies from the road so that the caravan could go on.

Then, as they ran south along the road during a lull in the rain, a pack of canigrae suddenly sprang out of the forest on their right, attacking a team of ponies in front of them. Before either Elerian or Ascilius could lift so much as a finger, the frightened ponies pulled the wagon sideways in an effort to escape the savage beasts worrying their flanks. Black arrows hissed through the air from the trees, slaying the driver and the guards along the perimeter of the road. As the canigrae tore out the throats of the two ponies, the wagon they were pulling slowly tipped over onto its right side, bringing the caravan behind it to a stop. Goblins clad in rain slicked black leather immediately ran out of the forest on both sides of the road, some of them engaging Ascilius and Elerian while others swarmed over the wagon. Out of the left corners of his eyes, Elerian saw a pair of Mordi attempt to pry open a wagon door with their sword tips.

With enemies at last within their reach, Elerian and Ascilius struck down every Mordi within reach, the lines of argentum inlaid in Acris and Fulmen flashing silver white with each deadly stroke. Startled by the fury of the counterattack they had unleashed, the remaining Wood Goblins fled back into the forest. Behind him, Elerian heard screams and whirled around in time to see a group of dark clad Mordi running into the forest with several Dwarf women and children in their clawed hands. A tall Uruc, who stood head and shoulders above the Mordi around him, stood behind the overturned wagon, holding a screaming child suspended in the air by her hair which was grasped tightly in his left hand. Elerian was horrified when he recognized the lytling as the
little girl who had watched his magic trick the other night.

Desperately, he raised his right hand and cast a spell, hoping to freeze the Goblin in his tracks, but the red shimmer of a protection spell suddenly covered the Uruc from head to foot, counteracting Elerian’s spell. The Goblin threw back his hood and grinned wickedly at Elerian who immediately recognized his pale, vulpine face.

“Zaleuc,” thought Elerian furiously to himself. “It is time to fulfill the promise I made to him.” Before he could take a single step, however, the Uruc suddenly turned and sprinted for the trees behind him, the screaming child clutched tightly under his left arm. Desperate to catch him, Elerian dropped his shield and raced after him, fear for the child lending wings to his feet. Just inside the wood, he drew within arm’s reach of the fleeing Goblin. Raising Acris in his right hand, he was on the point of cleaving Zaleuc’s skull when a shaggy, black canigrae leaped on him from his right, closing its powerful jaws on his wrist and bearing him over onto his left side. The sleeve of his mailed shirt saved his hand from being sheared off by the hound’s sharp teeth, but it did nothing to stave off the blinding pain inflicted by the pressure of the canigrae’s jaws. Feeling as if his wrist was caught in a vise, Elerian felt Acris’s handle slip from his numbed fingers. Instinctively, he reached up with his left hand, seizing and twisting the hound’s right ear with his long, powerful fingers. At once, the canigrae released Elerian’s wrist, throwing up its head and voicing an agonized shriek that was abruptly cut off when Fulmen descended on its head, crushing its skull.

Impatiently, Elerian pushed away the body of the canigrae and sprang to his feet. Zaleuc was gone, and the rain was falling again, drawing a gray curtain over the forest. A mocking voice suddenly called from the wood.

“I am here. Come take the child if you want her.”

As Zaleuc’s voice faded away, a sharp, high scream suddenly rent the air, filling Elerian with dismay and anger. Before he could rush into the forest, however, a hand suddenly grasped him in an iron grip, high up on his right arm.

“Do not follow him,” Ascilius shouted, holding tightly onto Elerian with his left hand. “He has laid a trap for you.”

“Let me go!” shouted Elerian angrily, trying to pull free. “He has one of the children.”

“I cannot afford to lose you and the child,” said Ascilius hoarsely, his eyes filled with the pain of his decision. “Not all your powers will save you or her if you follow that Uruc. He will lead you into a trap. Then, when you are helpless, he will slay the child in front of you.” Overcome by a feeling of hopelessness, Elerian suddenly ceased to struggle.

“Ascilius is right,” he thought despondently to himself. “In this rain, no matter what form I take, there will be no trail to follow. Even if I enter the canopy and use my third eye, it will do no good, for I will see only a silver curtain of rain. Zaleuc will call to me, leading me deeper into the forest where his Mordi will fall upon me in force and trap me when I am far from any help.” Then, another fear filled scream suddenly came from deeper in the forest, sweeping away reason and commonsense. “I must try to save her even if it means my death,” thought Elerian to himself as he renewed his struggle to break free of Ascilius’s mighty grip on his arm.

With a deft twist of his right wrist, Ascilius suddenly flipped Fulmen into the air, catching the hammer by the handle near the head with his right hand. Elerian felt a sudden blow to the back of his head as Ascilius struck him sharply with Fulmen’s handle. Cold raindrops washed over his face as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When he came to, Elerian found himself lying in a lightless wagon, bound hand and foot. With his night wise eyes, he saw Ascilius sitting cross-legged nearby with Fulmen in his right
hand, the hammer’s handle reversed and ready to strike.

“Do you promise not to pursue the Goblin?” asked the Dwarf, ready to send Elerian into unconsciousness at the least sign that he was attempting to cast a spell.

“Let me go,” said Elerian angrily to Ascilius. With awful clarity, the little lytling’s screams echoed in his mind.

“Not until you promise,” replied Ascilius firmly. “Otherwise I will keep you tied up until we reach Iulius.”

“I must go, Ascilius,” pleaded Elerian. “Her voice will never fade from my memories. It will be a torment for me as long as I live.”

“Then you must bear it,” said Ascilius callously. “If you throw your life away, it will cost the lives of many more Dwarves to no good end.”

“You are hard as stone,” replied Elerian sullenly.

“Promise!” said Ascilius relentlessly, his craggy features set and grim.

“You have my word that I will not pursue Zaleuc,” said Elerian morosely, giving in at last to Ascilius’s demand.

Confident that Elerian would keep his word, Ascilius released his bonds. Without a word, Elerian left the wagon and entered the dripping forest to the west of the road, the Dwarf child’s screams still echoing in his mind.

“I must slay some of the enemy or go mad,” thought Elerian to himself. Calling his silver ring to his right hand, he vanished as the ring spread its cloak of invisibility over his slender form. Climbing into the canopy, he began to walk south along the shoulder of the road, stepping lightly and silently from one great branch to another through the gray rain. When he came upon a group of four Goblins preparing another attack, he dropped down into their midst with one of his
knives in each hand, striking so swiftly right and left that the last Mordi died on his feet before the body of the first fell to the ground. The death of the Wood Goblins brought Elerian no relief, however, leaving him as cold and anguished as before. Taking to the trees again, he sought more victims for his knives, determined to wash away his guilt over the death of the lytling even if it took an ocean of Goblin blood.

As the long, bloody day slowly wore on, Elerian lost count of the number of Wood Goblins that he slew, but for each attack that he prevented, there were many more that he could do nothing about. Deaths and injuries among the Dwarves steadily increased and wrecked wagons continued to slow the progress of the caravan until it seemed to Elerian that night and the Goblin reinforcements that pursued the Dwarves must surely overtake the line of wagons before they ever left the forest.

Then, stepping lightly through the forest canopy a little ahead of the lead wagon, Elerian suddenly saw the forest in front of him end. As he walked to the end of long branch thick as a young tree, the gray, sheeting rain slowed to a light drizzle and then stopped entirely, leaving the air clear and damp. Before him, Elerian saw a large meadow almost a half mile wide and deep, its tall, thick turf covered with glistening drops of rain. Gleaming like molten silver in the twilight, a swift mountain river at least one hundred feet across ran along its northern edge, flowing west to east. Running down the center of the meadow to the river was the forest road. After crossing the river over a bridge constructed on three stone piers, it disappeared into the forest on the far side of the river.

“We have won through at last,” thought Elerian wearily to himself as the first of the wagons entered the meadow. “Surely that is the Caldus on the far side of the meadow.”

Turning back, he headed south along the road, finding that the fighting had become even
fiercer as the Goblins sought to delay the Dwarf caravan from entering the meadow. The increased visibility hampered them, however, revealing their ambushes, and as more and more Dwarves dropped back to help protect the last wagons, the Goblins began to suffer serious losses. The harsh blare of Goblin horns rang out, and the attacks against the Dwarf caravan abruptly ceased as the Goblins withdrew into the forest. The last of the wagons rolled into the meadow unmolested, guarded by a large company of Dwarves walking with linked shields.

After lingering for a bit in the canopy at the edge of the meadow in hopes of finding a last Wood Goblin lurking about under the trees, Elerian finally dropped lightly to the ground, convinced that the Mordi had all retreated into the wood surrounding the meadow, awaiting no doubt, the reinforcements hastening up the Dwarf road. His light footsteps barely bent the stems of the wet turf beneath his feet as he walked near the left shoulder of the road, in sharp contrast to the heavy footsteps of the Dwarves which had flattened all the grass on both shoulders of the highway. As he neared the bridge over the Caldus, Elerian was surprised to see that not one wagon had crossed the river. Instead, they were drawn up into a great half circle around the bridgehead.