The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) (18 page)

"You have defiled a sacred place," Dond said with uncharacteristic anger. "You should not have done that."

The remaining garond soldier uneasily picked up a club.

"I truly am sorry for what will happen now," Wynnfrith said, still cradling the Ar in both hands. She slowly closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Frea stepped from the shadows with her sword up. "Throw down your weapons!" Frea commanded. "You are now our prisoners."

Echoing from the mouth of the tunnel into the cavern, the sounds of fighting from up above rang with the distinctive clanking of the paricale.

"Death to unbelievers!" Mudsang shrieked as he raised his club. Then, the Cave of Animal Spirits came alive.

The paintings of animals in reds, yellows, and browns began to move as though running in place. The spirits of the animals pulled away from the cave wall, glowing an eerie pale, transparent blue. It seemed as though the whole cave was standing still in the middle of a ghostly stampede. At first the apparition of the running animals seemed like smoke, but then they grew more distinct, with greater detail. The scene was intoxicating. Perspective was completely useless. The spirit of an animal that appeared far away easily ran through one of the garond soldier's hands, who pulled his hand away in terror.

All in the cave were shocked to immobility.

The garond soldier dropped his club, but it was too late. The pale blue horns of an auroch spirit sprouted from the garond soldier's chest. There was no blood, but the impact the garond soldier felt was real. The garond soldier twisted with pain, but also seemed to be in a kind of ecstasy, his head back, mouth open. The garond soldier fell to the pale, sandy floor of the cave. Then he seemed to be hit by hundreds of unseen hooves; shaggy doderns that also threw their one long horn as they passed; heavy stauers with crushing hooves; and many aurochs with a merciless flow of many hooves. The garond soldier's body was a bloody, trampled mess laying on the white cave floor.

Dond pulled Frea to the cave wall. Frea could feel the breeze rushing past from the stampeding animal spirits. Some of the doderns eyed her suspiciously with their large, black, ghostly eyes.

Mudsang futilely swung his club at the ethereal forms moving past and around him. His face contorted with fear and indignant rage. The animals seemed to all be small as though they were far away with the weird, altered perspective of the sacred cave. Then, the animal spirits turned, and charged. Mudsang's crown of upright, red feathers fell into his eyes and then from his head as he swung his club harder and harder  at thin air. The spirits of the animals momentarily dispersed like wisps of smoke with Mudsang's strokes but quickly reformed and continued their ghostly flight, never moving, running forever in place, an energy of the earth manifest in a hallowed place.

A realization came over Mudsang. He turned to Wynnfrith and raised his club high. He could not harm the animal spirits, but he could kill the human standing before him.

A ghostly dodern horn burst from Mudsang's chest with a splash of blood. Unlike the garond soldier, who died from simply being in the way, the animal spirits actively, aggressively targeted Mudsang. The garond religious leader shook as though he were being carried by the massive one horned dodern, although Mudsang never moved a pace from his original place. His feet raised up off the sand of the cave's floor as he quivered with the ghostly momentum of the spirit animal. Mudsang's face went from a twist of fear to empty slackness.

Mudsang fell to the floor of the cave as more animal spirits gored and crushed him, moving in pale, transparent streams of blue ectoplasm. The violence was so total and quick, Mudsang never had a chance to utter a single sound, other than pained groans.

The last of the animal's spirits moved through the cave. Wynnfrith, who stood stock still in the middle of the ghostly stampede, untouched and unharmed, fell to her knees, exhausted and drained.

"Hello?" a human voice called down through the tunnel into the cave.

"Ronenth!?" Frea cried and scrambled for the mouth of the exit from the cave.

"Frea!" Ronenth's voice echoed with worry. "Have they harmed you? Are you safe?"

"We're safe!" Frea called. "We're coming out!"

Frea and Dond helped Wynnfrith to her feet, and both helped her struggle through the tunnel up to the surface.

Wynnfrith felt Ronenth's strong hands pull her up out of the last length of the tunnel. The air was fresh, and the daylight of the late afternoon was blinding.

"I have a small ship to take us back to Wealdland," Ronenth urgently said. "We must be quick, some garonds have escaped to report our presence."

Wynnfrith looked about at the dozen slaughtered garond soldiers ringing the entrance of the tunnel.

"You did this?" Wynnfrith said in astonishment to Ronenth.

"I saw them standing together," Ronenth said in embarrassment. "I thought they were eating-" Then Ronenth stopped rather than consider his awful conclusion.

"We have to get to the boat, quickly," Frea reiterated. "Can you run, Wynnfrith?"

"I can try," Wynnfrith said. "Will you come with us, Dond?"

Dond shook his head. "My place is here, in my land. Give me your shoes," the garond said to Ronenth.

"I don't-"

"He means to lead them away," Frea said, understanding.

"They will come here," Dond said, "with the larger force. They know of the cave, and know that Mudsang came here."

Ronenth handed his shoes to Dond. "I hope to see you again, friend," Ronenth said. "In more peaceful times."

"Yes, thank you," Dond said. "May you find peace and safety at home. Now go, go!"

Dond pulled a branch full of leaves from a bush and began sweeping the humans foot prints away from the sandy soil.

Ronenth and Frea, each supporting Wynnfrith on either side, ran as quickly as they could for the beach.

Ronenth looked back. He saw Dond pull the small human shoes half way over his large garond feet, and then the garond ran in the opposite direction of the shore.

Ronenth stumbled often, his bare feet catching sharp stones and jutting roots. He had to be extremely careful as he carried the razor sharp paricale curled up in his free arm.

The smell of the ocean wafted over the dunes.

"We're close," Ronenth said. The soughing of the sea could be heard on the salty breeze. The ground became sandier and easier on Ronenth's feet, but harder for traction as the three stumbled on.

The day was overcast, and dull. Heavy, gray clouds hung low, dimming the sunlight to a darkened twilight. A light drizzle began to fall, immediately wetting everything.

As they cleared a sand dune, Ronenth suddenly pulled them down.

"What is it?" Frea whispered.

"Garond soldiers around my boat," Ronenth said.

"Did you see how many?"

"Enough to make leaving difficult."

"There will only be more coming," Frea said with grim determination. "If we are to get back home, we must go now. Wynnfrith, stay behind Ronenth and I."

"It will be better if I go out first," Ronenth said with a smile. "You have not seen me use this." He hefted the paricale with a challenging gleam in his eye.

"Then I will help get Wynnfrith in the boat," Frea said, "if it is still sea worthy."

Ronenth nodded with an understanding frown. The garonds might have already knocked a hole in the hull.

Ronenth took a deep breath, then sharply exhaled. The dark haired glaf boy of sixteen charged over the dune, bellowing a war cry.

Frea and Wynnfrith waited and watched as Ronenth whirled the paricale, fully extended, the metal segments moving in a mesmerizing circle over his head, like a large chain of razor sharp, connected, silver leaves.

"Come," Frea pulled Wynnfrith to her feet. The two women ran several dunes to the north, then out onto the beach.

The majority of garonds charged at Ronenth. There were over fifty, and more marching up the beach, from the south.

"Can you do anything with the Ar?" Frea yelled over to Wynnfrith as they sprinted for the sailboat. Several garond soldiers peeled away from Ronenth and ran at the human women.

"I'll try," Wynnfrith yelled and reached into the leather bundle covering the palm sized, black stone. Wynnfrith immediately stumbled and fell as she made contact with the Ar.

"Get up!" Frea screamed.

Wynnfrith tried to get to her feet, she felt a quivering power all over her body. She couldn't focus. The whole world was a blur. It felt as though she were being struck with a low intensity lightning, coming up from the earth. Wynnfrith fell again to her knees and vomited.

Frea pulled at Wynnfrith as the first garond soldier came at her swinging his club.

Frea easily dodged the arc of the club and ran her sword into the garond's chest full up to the hilt. She had no time to extract her sword with more garonds attacking. Frea wrenched the long dagger from Wynnfrith and slashed at a garond who pulled up just short enough to keep his throat from being slit. Frea lifted up a foot and kicked off the garond still impaled by her sword. Ten garonds circled Frea, and Wynnfrith who was still on her hands and knees.

"Get to your feet, mother of Arnwylf!" Frea bellowed at Wynnfrith.

Wynnfrith blinked and struggled to her feet. Still clutching the Ar, she raised both hands and screamed to the sky. The sand in a wide circle rippled out like a splash in a pond.

The garonds all around Frea and Wynnfrith were violently heaved high into the air and landed with bone crunching thuds.

Wynnfrith collapsed, unconscious, but with a death grip on the Ar.

Frea tucked the long dagger into her belt, and dragged Wynnfrith to the sailboat, clutching the black sword with her free hand.

Frea could see down the beach a platoon of a hundred or more garonds being led by a large garond, whom she easily recognized even from a distance, Ravensdred. Frea involuntarily shivered. She had been held by the garond general over a year ago. And Ravensdred had made it clear he was going to eat the living flesh right off her body. She still had nightmares about those days.

A little way down the beach, Ronenth was the center of a maelstrom of violence and blood. The paricale was ever in motion, turning, spinning, cutting, slashing. But for every garond cut down, two more replaced him, however none could get close enough to Ronenth land a strike. It was a stalemate that would end with the overwhelming numbers the garonds could eventually bring.

Frea pushed Wynnfrith, still unconscious into the boat. Frea checked that Wynnfrith still had the Ar tightly gripped in her hand. Frea pulled the boat down to the water.

"Ronenth!" She screamed. She didn't know if she dared to use the Ar as Wynnfrith had. Ronenth might be burdened with two unconscious women, better to stay awake and use her sword.

Frea watched as Ronenth seemed to draw the paricale in closer circles, drawing the garonds in closer to him. Frea almost couldn't even see the glaf boy for the battling, swarming garond bodies pushing in on him.

"Ronenth," she whispered as she quickly unfurled the sails, trying to keep her eyes on him.

Then, Ronenth burst out with a mighty, circling stroke that cut thirty or more garonds all around him directly in half at the abdomen.

In the midst of the blood splattered explosion of carnage, Ronenth leapt out, and sprinted for his sailboat, his paricale whirling over his head in short loops.

Frea could see Ravensdred clearly now. The huge garond war general was also sprinting towards the humans attempting to escape his land. Ravensdred carried a strange, black weapon, a huge sword attached, by chains to a metal ball, attached to a large horn, which he spun over his head, ready to strike when he got close enough.

Ronenth splashed into the water and dumped his paricale into the boat.

Frea reached over the glaf boy, and with her sword, skewered a garond just behind him. She dragged Ronenth into the boat, just as a weak breeze filled the sails.

The sailboat bobbed over the surf. The three humans aboard had made it to the open ocean.

In the surf, Ravensdred loosely held his stilled, limp weapon.

"You won't get far!" Ravensdred bellowed at the fleeing humans. "Then I can finally finish off the last vermin of the glaf race."

Ronenth started for the gunwale as though he meant to jump overboard. Frea had to pull him back into the boat.

"We are safe now," Frea whispered to Ronenth. "You saved us."

"No," Ronenth was suddenly stilled with fear.

Frea followed his gaze around to the southern horizon. The sea was filled with long boats full of garonds furiously rowing towards them.

"They will be on us in moments," Ronenth whispered in horror. In a panic, he pulled at the sails trying to trim them to get more speed out of the boat.

Frea looked over at Wynnfrith, who was still unconscious, laying sprawled in the bottom of the sailboat, and still clutching the Heart of the Earth.

Frea had to pry Wynnfrith's fingers open to get to the black, cup shaped stone.