Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) Read online

“Ranger!” the Gnoll leader growled. “Come out!”

  Shum tied a bandage over his calf. Lifted his hand over his head. Waited.

  “Are you surrendering then?” the Gnoll said.

  He didn’t reply.

  Clatch zip!

  Another bolt shot high and to the left of his fingers. Gritting his teeth, blocking the pain in his leg, he charged from behind the boulder.

  The Gnolls were waiting. Three of them. One lowered its spear at his chest.

  Shum swept it away with the flat of his sword and plunged his Elven dagger into its chest.

  The Gnoll leader roared. Its spiked flail whirled like the wind. Lashed out like a snake’s tongue, catching Shum in the chest.

  He doubled over. Tumbled to the ground.

  Clatch-Zip!

  The bolt whizzed past his head and stuck in the ground between the Gnoll’s legs. Its eyes widened. “Stop shooting, fools!” The Gnoll twirled the spiked ball of steel over his head and brought it down again.

  Shum rolled left.

  Up it went. Down it came.

  He rolled right.

  Bang!

  The flail got him in the thigh.

  “Hah!” the Gnoll said. “Not so tough for a Ranger, are you?”

  Shum pushed himself back over the dirt, chopping back and forth with his longsword, keeping the Gnoll at bay. His sword was a superior weapon to the crude flail, but the Gnoll swung with fury. Power. Juttering his arms with every blow. It didn’t help that his leg was banged up. Bleeding. Shum was concerned. Was he over-confident? Foolish? He’d just killed an Ettin, after all. Couldn’t he handle a handful of Gnolls and Goblins?

  An Elven proverb danced is his head. Death comes from any corner.

  The Gnoll kept swinging. Harder and harder. Every blow fast and heavy.

  Shum dropped his dagger. Wrapped both hands around his sword.

  Clang!

  The flail chain wrapped around his blade. Locked the weapon up. The Gnoll heaved, ripping Shum’s sword from his hand. The Gnoll’s dog face let out a howl. It tossed its weapons aside, bared its claws, and pounced on Shum.

  ***

  My Dragon claws dug into the rocky dirt of the crater wall, making it easy to climb down. I caught myself wondering if I could scale city walls with them, and then I forced myself to concentrate on finding my friend.

  “Brenwar!”

  Still, I heard nothing. I hopped from one foothold to another. Traversed gaps and ledges like a critter. I had to admit, I was getting used to this climbing. Having two clawed hands made it much easier.

  A hundred feet I descended. It was dark above and below me now. All I could make out were the outlines of the crater rim and the treetops below it.

  “Brenwar!”

  Great Guzan! I couldn’t believe I’d lost him. The climb wasn’t so risky, but Brenwar wasn’t the best climber. The last time we’d climbed, I’d tied a rope around him.

  He must be getting old or something.

  Straight down I went, sliding on the steepness of the crater the final fifty feet. There was no sign of Brenwar. I sniffed the air.

  There was that smell again. The one from earlier. The one Brenwar mentioned. What was it? Not as bad as Orcs, but bad. Ew! I felt as if I should know, but I’d forgotten somehow.

  I scanned the ground. The trees. Looking for heat. Anything. I could see small creatures nesting. Some scurrying through the night, but not much of anything else. I ran my hands over the ground. My touch was sensitive. So sensitive I felt like I could almost taste the ground with it.

  “Come now,” I said, “a crusty old Dwarf couldn’t have gotten too far.”

  On hands and knees, I searched. I sniffed. I was an excellent tracker. But it took a while when I was dealing with new terrain. The out of the ordinary wouldn’t be as plain.

  “Ah, there it is. There it is, indeed.”

  Whatever it was had tossed a net over Brenwar and dragged him away. But what? That was the question. I looked for prints. I found them, and they weren’t at all what I expected.

  “Oh no,” I said. I readied my bow. Snap. Clatch. Snap. And darted along the trail. Brenwar was in trouble.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Are you alright?” Sasha said.

  Bayzog nodded, but his face was drawn up tight. His dark eyes looked through her, up ahead, past the Ettins. He was worried. Sasha could feel it. It left her unsettled. Her stomach fluttered. She’d never seen Bayzog out of sorts before.

  She brushed his hair out if his eyes and held out a canteen of Wizard Water.

  He pushed it aside, gently. “No,” he said, “It doesn’t seem right. Not with them out there at risk. And here I am, doing nothing.” He looked at her, then looked away, fists balled up at his sides.

  Anyone who didn’t know Bayzog would see nothing but a part Man, part Elf who oozed with confidence. Chin high. Speech polished. Impeccable in character. But he was rattled.

  “You saved the woman, Bayzog. You’ve battled Ettins. We guard them as we speak. We march them over the plains, our prisoners.” She tried to sound reassuring. “You’ve done well. The others, they can take care of themselves.”

  He kept riding. Focused.

  Up ahead the Ettins lumbered over the ground. Their four heads glanced back, then muttered to themselves.

  They were up to something. Sasha could feel it. But surely they could not break the bonds that Bayzog had cast on them. Bright green shackles bound their wrists behind their backs.

  Sasha didn’t know if she felt good or bad. She didn’t know how to feel actually. It was thrilling and dangerous all at the same time. What was to be a simple trek south towards the Elven lands had become a full blown adventure. And it had all happened in moments. She didn’t know whether she should fell proud, or scared to death.

  “Sasha,” Bayzog said, looking back at her, “come.”

  She caught up. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his palm. “I didn’t even take the time to ask you how you were. Are you alright?”

  “Just a little edgy.” He eyes drifted to the Ettins. “Do you think they can get free?”

  “No, no, my dear. Ten Ettins couldn’t break those bonds. And if they try,” he said, offering a grin, “they’ll be in for a shock.”

  “I hope they struggle then,” she said, glowering.

  “Sasha!”

  “Well, it’s true. They’re evil. I can feel it. I get chills looking at them. And those eyes. So big and dark.” She tore her stare away and looked at him. “I hate them.”

  “Strong words, my dear.” He cleared his throat, lifted his brow. “Try to ignore them. They’re ignorant of their actions. Born that way. It’s a shame. I used to think there was good in everyone, but over the centuries, I’ve come to know better.” He squeezed her hand. “But what I have learned is even worse.”

  “What’s that, Bayzog?”

  “I’ve learned about the evil that resides in all of us. The evil that lurks beneath the surface of love and hate. The good roots without the strength to grow out. How it’s so much easier to do the wrong thing instead of the right. I worry, Sasha.” He looked up to the clouds. A frown forming on his face.

  “About me?” she said, following his gaze.

  Night was almost upon them. The clouds that drifted were black and the stars behind them gone. A strange fog rolled over the grass. What was earlier a blustering day in the sun had become a land more sinister. A distant flash of lightning caught her eye.

  “Yes, of course I worry about you,” he said. “I sometimes wish you hadn’t come. I want you safe. I fear I can’t always protect you.”

  “I don’t expect you to. I have to learn how to protect myself.”

  “And you’ve done well with that,” he said, “but I wanted you here with me, Sasha. I needed you here with me.”

  A chill went through her. Bayzog never needed anything from anybody.

  “Why?”

  He loo
ked her straight in the eye.

  “In case none of us make it back.”

  Her heart stopped. Then started again. At least it felt like it did. What was he saying? What did he mean?

  “Bayzog, I’m certain we’ll make it through this. We’ll find the Occular of Orray, heal Dragon, and then things will be the same.”

  He shook his head.

  “The climate changes. Even though my Elven instincts aren’t as sharp as they used to be, I know. That’s why I wanted to have you with me. I wanted you by my side, selfishly, just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  She could see her reflection in his violet eyes when he said it.

  “Just in case we’re near the end of this world.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Shum pulled his knees up and caught the full force of the Gnoll’s greater weight on his chest. He locked his hands around the creature’s wrists and hung on. Shum was centuries hardened by training and battle. His muscles as taut as steel. But he was no match for the raw strength of the Gnoll. Its thews were thick. Savage. More animal than Man. Its dog face snapping at his neck. He turned his face away. Hung on with all the strength he had in him.

  “Time to die, Ranger!” Saliva dripped from its mouth. “I’ve never tasted a Rover before.” It snapped at him.

  Shum shoved it back. Still lithe, he got one foot underneath the Gnoll’s hard belly. “Not today, Gnoll!” He thrust. Lifted the Gnoll up and over the top of his head.

  It let out a howl, crashing into the dirt.

  Shum dove for his sword.

  The Gnoll regained its feet and pounced right onto his back. Its claws tore into him.

  His Elven leather kept him from being torn to shreds.

  They thrashed back and forth over the dirt.

  Whop!

  The Gnoll punched him in the face, drawing spots.

  Jab! Jab! Crack!

  The Gnoll howled. Jumped off, holding its nose.

  The creature might be bigger, meaner, stronger, but Shum was smarter, faster and tougher. And he knew the weak spots of all the races. He spotted his sword. Limped over and snatched it up. “One more step, Gnoll, and it will be the end of you,” he said, shuffling forward.

  The Gnoll backed away. Eyes darting from side to side.

  The women and other Gnolls were gone. Hiding. Leaving the two of them in the darkness. The only light the small campfires glows.

  “Surrender, Gnoll, or meet your—”

  Clatch-zip!

  Shum’s sword fell from his grip.

  The Gnoll let out a triumphant howl and charged.

  ***

  I was on alert. Eyes peeled. Ears sharp.

  That smell. That smell in the air. I knew what it was. The prints on the ground gave me a good idea. Trouble. The kind of trouble wise people sought to avoid. The kind of trouble that was hard to get out of.

  I hurried along. They could move fast, even with Brenwar. Possibly faster than me. One mistake on the trail and I myself could be in jeopardy.

  I stopped. Looked. Listened.

  Something rustled over the ground. Yards ahead. I could’ve sworn I heard Brenwar grumbling under his beard.

  I nocked an arrow, a normal one, and sped after him. I jumped along. Winding through the trees. My footfalls light as feathers.

  There he was. A clumped Dwarf fighting in a net surrounded by pines and a floor of pine needles. I didn’t see anyone else. Still, I remained hidden.

  “Dragon!” Brenwar said. His voice a loud hush. “They’re gone. Get me out of this net!”

  I peeked at him.

  His dark eyes were right on me.

  I wasn’t sure how Brenwar could see me, but he could always find me when I was close. I never knew for sure if it was my scent or his vision, but the only way to escape him was to outdistance him.

  I crept over, withdrew a dagger, and quickly cut at the net.

  “Hurry, will you!” he said.

  “Stop struggling, will you!”

  “You’re not the one in the net.”

  I laughed.

  “Stop laughing and hurry. You spooked them, but they’ll be back. They always come back.”

  I cut at the cords. It wasn’t easy.

  “Use your claws, Dragon!”

  “Oh, good idea.” I cut. One. Two. Three at a time. “Nice.”

  “How many of them?” I asked.

  “Two.”

  “Two that we know of.” I sawed away. Brenwar was almost free.

  Clop. Clop.

  Clop. Clop.

  I wanted to stop, but I didn’t. I ignored the sound. Kept cutting.

  “Hurry!” Brenwar said.

  A flute-like sound drifted into my ears.

  My head started spinning. My fingers turned numb. Limp.

  Brenwar’s eyelids fluttered. His meaty hands clamped over his ears. “No!” he growled.

  I couldn’t say anything. My tongue felt like water. But I could see. Both of them. Shadows in the forest coming out of the darkness. One was male, the other female. Each pressed a set of small pipes to their lips. Tiny horns protruded from their heads. They stood on stout legs with the hooves of mountain goats.

  Satyrs. Crafty and Merciless.

  The music tore at my mind.

  I screamed, but I couldn’t hear myself. I had to move. Had to escape. Run. Flee. I knew the stories. I knew the tales. Whatever the Satyrs captured they kept. Never to be seen again.

  ***

  Shum lay still. Eyes closed. A mouthful of pine needles. A crossbow bolt sticking through his back. Bleeding. Over him, the Gnoll leader gloated.

  “Great shot!” he said. “Now get down here. It’s time to skin him.”

  Shum remained. Ears picking up his surroundings. The Gnoll leader kicked him hard in the ribs. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. The Gnoll walked away, footsteps crunching over the ground, and picked up his flail. The air whistled as it twirled around. Another pair of footsteps approached. Followed by another. There were three of them.

  “Get those bows ready. If he moves so much as a hair, shoot him.”

  “Isn’t he dead?” one said, cranking back his string.

  “If he’s dead, he won’t feel it,” the leader said. “Of course, he’s a Ranger, so you can’t be too cautious. Humph. Go ahead. Put another in him. Right in the heart. Maybe between the ears. That’d be a funny trophy now, wouldn’t it?”

  They snickered a howling sort of sound and stretched their strings.

  Shum had been in tight spots before, but this was ridiculous. Death comes from any corner. The darkness sings. Hands under his belly, he scratched at the dirt. Tapped the world’s power. He was an Elf. Attuned to nature and magic. Using it when needed to save others. To save himself. He focused. Concentrated. Stretched out the powers he summoned.

  “What is this?” one of the Gnolls said. Its crossbow trembled in its hand. The wood creaked and groaned.

  “It’s cursed!” said the other. The crossbow in its hand warped too. It let out a cry.

  Both crossbows were now twisted like roots. The strings snapped. The Gnoll leader let out an angry cry.

  “It’s the Ranger, you fools!” He jumped forward, swinging his mace. “Draw your blades! Have at him before he escapes.”

  Shum felt the flail coming down. In a blink he dove into the Gnoll’s legs, toppling it over. He kept on going. Blocking out the blinding pain in his legs and his back. He had to free himself.

  The Gnoll snatched his leg.

  He kicked it in the face. He was free.

  The other two were coming. Drawing their weapons. Still gawking at the twisted crossbow and bolts that writhed on the ground.

  Shum went for his sword, snatching it from the ground. He wished he could keep running. Into the forest. Lose them. Survive. Fight later. He was bleeding too badly, though. It was fight now or never. He stopped. Turned.

  They swarmed him.

  The first one was big, clumsy.

  Slash
!

  It died.

  The next lunged. A big axe in its hands. Shum side stepped.

  Crack!

  Drove the pommel of his sword into the back of its head. It was out.

  “You’re good, Ranger,” the leader said. “But yer bleedin’ to death too. I think I’ll watch. Wait for the reinforcements to arrive.”

  “Trust me, Gnoll, you’ll be dead cold before they get here.”

  “Is that so?” it said. “How you figure?”

  Shum swayed. A wave of nausea hit him. His chin dipped. His knees buckled.

  The Gnoll barked at him. “You’ve got nothing left. I’m taking you out.” It came at him. Savage. Powerful. Flail spinning like stars in the air. Its eyes widened. It caught the steely eyes in the Elf. It tried to stop, but couldn’t.

  Shum struck like a cobra. The blade went in one side and out the other.

  The leader died, mouth wide open.

  “They always fall for that,” Shum said, removing his blade and fetching his dagger. Still ailing, he hobbled after the women.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was strange. The music the Satyrs summoned bent my knees, my ears, even the trees right before my eyes.

  The little beady-eyed horn-heads were full of surprises. Deceivers. Stealers. Enslavers. And Dragon poachers. They loved Dragon charms, bones, teeth and scales, more than gold itself.

  I fought for my focus. Locking my eyes on their twisting and distorted faces, I yelled. At least I think I did.

  I could see my bow, Akron, in my hand that I could not feel. An arrow was stuck between my numb fingers. I fought against the music. The horror. The carnival erupting in my mind.

  Come on, Dragon! Do it! Do it or you’re done for!

  Muscles straining, I forced my Dragon hands to respond. Shaking, I nocked the arrow. I rolled on my back. I think I did anyway. I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I was watching someone else’s hands draw back the string. An out of body experience of sorts. I took aim at the nearest obscured image before me and let the arrow fly.

  The snapping string cracked in my ear. Not tight, but slow. The arrow sped away from me at an agonizing pace. Even an Ettin could have dodged that slow arrow.