Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) Page 8

I felt my breath thinning. Drops of sweat fell in front of my eyes. All I wanted to do was escape the madness. Sleep. Find my legs and run. But at the moment, I could do nothing. Just suffer the insufferable sound of the pipe-playing Satyrs.

  “Uh!”

  The music shifted. Stopped.

  My head pounded like a drum but my vision began to clear.

  The male Satyr clutched at its belly. Its pipes no longer pressed to its lips, but on the ground.

  The woman dashed over on her hooves. Distraught and full of worry. She leaned her mate back in her arms. Tears swelled in her eyes.

  The male gasped for breath. Clutched its side. Looked right at me. Then at my Dragon arms. Its eyes widened, and it whispered to the female Satyr.

  I gathered my feet under me and stumbled over. I didn’t want to see him die.

  Brenwar beat me there.

  Crack!

  He walloped the female in the back of the head with a leaden bag called a Dwarven Sap.

  She pitched forward. Knocked out cold in her mate’s lap.

  “Brenwar,” I said, “did you have to be so gruff. She’s a—”

  “She’s no she. It’s a Satyr. A monster. About to kill us both.”

  Crack!

  He stomped her set of pipes under his boot. Crushed them into the ground.

  The male Satyr let out a whine. Like a goat.

  Pop!

  Brenwar slugged it in the jaw. It fell over. He snatched its pipes off the ground and crushed them in his hands.

  “What about his wounds?” I said.

  “It will live.”

  We grabbed the net and bound them up. Satyrs―little taller than Dwarves, not as wide―weren’t very formidable without their pipes.

  Still, I was a little surprised Brenwar hadn’t killed them.

  “So, you think they won’t come after us again?” I said. “There could be more, you know. Maybe an entire herd of them lurks in this crater.”

  “Then I suggest we get out of here before they get out of this,” he said, storming off.

  I guessed it was my turn to follow. I gave the Satyrs one last look. They never looked as bad as they seemed. They looked almost peaceful. Their faces calm and expressionless. I just hoped I’d never hear those pipes playing again. After Brenwar I went.

  ***

  We found a camp.

  “Look at this,” Brenwar said. He was kneeling down beside some dead Goblins. “Look at how clean that cut is. That’s Elven steel. Shum must be close by.”

  I inspected the Gnolls. Three of them were dead. Big ones too. All bigger than Shum. I could tell by the dirt it had been a hard fought battle. A nasty one, judging by the blood.

  “Looks like he went this way,” I said, “but I don’t think he was followed.”

  “Hmmm,” Brenwar said, “look at this.” He held out what looked like a crossbow, but the wood was twisted.

  I picked up a bent bolt. “Now this is something. Pretty impressive.” I waggled it in Brenwar’s face. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Pretty sad if you ask me. Pot Belly must not be much of a fighter if he can’t get the upper hand on the likes of these. Using magic. Pah!”

  “Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes behind his back. “What was I thinking? Let’s go.”

  I took the lead this time. My keen eye picked up drops of blood on the ground, the needles, and the stones. There were footprints now. Many. I could smell the women. Some of them still touched by the natural fragrances of the flower and vegetable gardens of the village.

  “Brenwar,” I stopped. Hunched down. Something was coming.

  Brenwar leaned over my shoulder. Farther down the crater a large group of people was coming. We waited. Closer and closer they came. The silhouettes became familiar. One, taller than the rest, was limping. Wheezing a little.

  “Shum!” I said, dashing up to him.

  Two women were holding him up. His long arms draped over their shoulders.

  “He saved us,” one woman said. “Saved us all. Killed all those nasty dogs and Goblins!”

  Indeed, he had saved them all. Every last one by the looks of it. The women all chattered among themselves. Excited. Free.

  “Shum,” I said, bracing him over my shoulder. “Are you alright? Can you make it?”

  “Just,” he said, wheezing. “Just get me out of here, Dragon. Take me to my horse.”

  “Pah!” Brenwar said, rolling his eyes at me. “I bet he wants us to carry him, too.”

  ***

  The brisk wind picked up, chilling Bayzog’s bones. The warmth from the Legionnaire fire looked good right now, but he remained back. In the dark, peering towards the crater.

  “Come, Bayzog,” Sasha said, taking his arm. “You need some food. The soldiers have plenty and their tales are very exciting.”

  He turned his eyes towards the Ettins that now sat on the edge of the camp. They kept looking into the sky. What they were looking for, he couldn’t imagine.

  “I appreciate it,’ he said. “I really do. Perhaps you can bring me something.”

  “As you wish, Bayzog.” She pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  Being around men left Bayzog a little uncomfortable. He was more Elf than Man, and never felt his human part was well received. And he didn’t have the color of the humans either, at least not in terms of personality. He was resolved. They were vibrant. Most of them anyway.

  Staring into the sky, he noticed the dark clouds seemed to lower. Like a fog that fell rather than lifted.

  “That’s odd.”

  It wasn’t uncommon for the night air to become misty but not so early in the night. Over by the campfires a haze was dropping over the men’s heads. But they kept talking, eating, and many of them were smoking pipes. His nose crinkled.

  He looked at the Ettins. They were fifteen feet high sitting. But he could see their heads no more.

  “Bayzog,” a Man said, approaching from the camp. “Have you have seen such a fog before?” It was Ben, trying to fan the haze from his face.

  “No, have you?”

  “Great Guzan!” a soldier said. “I can’t even see my roll-up. Stop smoking, will you!”

  “That’s not my smoke,” another soldier exclaimed. “It’s this infernal fog. It’s thicker than a mud hole!”

  “Get out of my way!”

  A chill went right through Bayzog. Suddenly he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face.

  “Sasha! Sasha! Where are you?”

  It didn’t do him any good. Everyone was yelling. Shouting. Ordering.

  “Ben! Ben!” he said. “Can you hear me?”

  “I’m right here,” Ben said. “I think I am anyway. What do you want me to do?”

  “Be still. Don’t move!”

  Bayzog muttered. Incanted. The magic within him came to life. Raising his arms over his head he summoned the wind.

  At first nothing happened.

  He focused. Concentrated.

  Then it came. Up the hill, flattening the grasses it pushed through the camp to the astonishment of many voices. It was a strong wind. Not a storm. Not a gale. Strong and steady like right before a storm. It whisked the fog away. Scattered it into the sky. Carried it far away and beyond.

  When he opened his eyes, Ben was standing there. Fixing his hair. Gaping at him. Sasha rushed up towards him and wrapped her arms around him. He was relieved.

  “Great Guzan!” another soldier shouted.

  “What now?” someone said.

  “The Ettins are gone!”

  CHAPTER 20

  It was early morning when we ran into Bayzog, Sasha, Ben and the Legionnaires. Bayzog explained everything that occurred the night before. I listened intently while Sasha tended to Shum’s wounds.

  “What do you make of it, Bayzog?” I asked.

  Bayzog’s face was calm but his voice was intense.

  “I never figured the Ettins to wield magic,” he said, “and the fog. It came from nowhere. Unnatural.
Dragon, it takes a lot to summon the weather and make such big monsters disappear. Someone powerful had to have done it.”

  “Or several someones,” I said.

  There was no sign of anything. No tracks. No scent. Nothing. Even Brenwar and Shum seemed astounded.

  “What do we do now, Dragon?” Ben said. “What if the Ettins come back? And why did they take the women?”

  I hated to admit it, but it was perplexing. Why did they take the women, indeed? And why were they aligned with Dragon Poachers? Even though it was night, I’d still gotten a close enough look at things at the camp in the crater. The Goblins and Gnolls were poachers, no doubt about it. They had the tools, traps and snares. And the women, they had them working on nets. Dragon nets. The kind that pinned Dragons’ wings together or to their backs. The mere sight of such tools infuriated me. There’d been no signs of Dragons, which was good. But Shum said there were caves. That was bad. There was no time to search them. What was important was getting the women to safety.

  “Easier to control,” Shum said. “Easier to scare. Men are rebellious and children can be difficult to keep track of. Plus, the women from these villages are good menders. Quick hands. Hard workers.” Shum rose up to his full height, put some weight on his leg and grimaced.

  “Take it easy,” Sasha said. “It’ll take some time for those wounds to mend.”

  Shum looked down at her and showed his dashing Elven teeth.

  “You’ve done well.” He helped her up and kissed her hand. “You’ve got excellent hands. A soothing touch.”

  Sasha’s pale cheeks turned pink and she tossed her hair.

  “You’ve found a special partner, Bayzog. An honor for any Elf.”

  “I know,” Bayzog said. He walked over, grabbed Sasha’s other hand, and led her away.

  “Hmmm,” I said, looking at Shum. He was watching them go. “So,” I said, “maybe we should check on that Ettin you killed. Perhaps it’s gone as well.”

  Shum pulled himself into his saddle. “Makes you wonder if any of it happened at all, doesn’t it?”

  I got on my horse and spent the next couple of hours leading the women back to their village. The men and children were overjoyed, and for the first time in a long while I felt like I’d done something positive, right.

  “Does the heart good, doesn’t it?” Sasha said.

  “Indeed it does,” I replied. “Seeing such joy come from tragedy is an amazing thing.”

  “Do you think they’ll be alright?” she asked.

  I looked at her seriously. “Sometimes people just have to fend for themselves. If they felt the need to leave, they’d leave. This is their home. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t want to, either.”

  She gave me a weak smile.

  Ben and Garrison rode up to us.

  “Well,” I said, “what did the commander say, Ben?”

  “They’re going to stay. Help the villagers settle themselves and send for more help from Quintuklen.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Well, you seem pretty excited about that. Are you looking forward to helping out or maybe getting a quick trip back to the city?”

  “No-no-no,” he said, waving his hands. “I’ve got even better news than that.”

  “Really, and what might that be?”

  “The Commander. He says Garrison and I can go with you!”

  I looked at Sasha.

  She shrugged.

  “Go with me where?” I said.

  “To Elome The Elven City, of course. The Commander says we can go!” He hoisted his helmet up in the air. “YEEHEE!”

  I didn’t have any reason to bring Ben. There were plenty of us already. But a part of me liked his enthusiasm. People liked Ben. Having him around. And he’d proven he could take care of himself. He was a legionnaire, after all. Even looked formidable in his well fitted armor.

  Still.

  “Come on, Dragon,” he said, voice excited. “Don’t tell me no. You know I want to see the world, and this is my chance. Just another journey. After this trip, I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll head right back to Quintuklen. Plus, I have to be back in a month anyway.”

  “A month!” I said. “We won’t be there a month, Ben. Did you plan on starting a family while we were there?”

  “Uh,” he said, scratching his head, “no.”

  Sasha was laughing. Bayzog sat in is saddle, silent, distant.

  “Garrison, do you want to do this?” I asked. The Man wasn’t much of a talker. Hard to read.

  He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the home of the Elves. Sounds interesting.”

  “Interesting, indeed,” I said. “Alright, gather your things. Let’s go.” I scanned the hills and what was left of the village.

  The people were hard at it already. Hammers and saws were working, and the women―some of them and the children were singing.

  “Say,” I said, “shouldn’t Brenwar and Shum be here by now?”

  They’d gone to check on the third Ettin. To see if it was still there or not. My scales tingled at the thought of it. The thought of all of it. Everything was out of place. Unordinary. Villagers. Ettins. Dragon Poachers and craters, not to mention the Satyrs. I hadn’t even mentioned them to Sasha and Bayzog yet. But something was amiss. I wanted to go back to the crater. Take a closer look. For all I knew, there were Dragons there. It bothered me.

  “Here they come,” Sasha said, waving.

  The pair bounced in their saddles at a trot and came to a stop.

  Brenwar propped his hands on his hips. “Seems the Elf didn’t kill that Ettin after all. It’s gone.” He slapped his knee. “Ha!”

  “Any signs?” I said.

  “None,” Shum replied.

  Something was wrong. I could feel it in the tips of my claws. It ate at my stomach. I was missing something. We were all missing something.

  “Let’s go, Dragon,” Bayzog said. “We’ve done all we can do here. We should ride to Elome, before things get any more weird.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Kryzak stood in the center of the Dragon Poacher camp, inspecting the carnage. The Gnolls were dead. The Goblins were dead. But that was not all. One Ettin out of three was dead, another’s hand maimed. The two that lived now roamed the woods in the crater, awaiting his call. He picked up the flail of the Gnoll leader. Eyed it.

  “Interesting,” he said, running his finger over the blood on the metal. “I can make use of that.” He motioned for one of the Draykis. Its hulking frame made its way over, silently as a cat. He handed the Draykis the flail. “Keep this. It may have more uses.”

  Making his way around the camp, Kryzak reenacted the battle in his mind. A Roving Ranger. That made him curious. Why would a Roving Ranger be with Nath Dragon? It bothered him. Ranger Elves he’d just as soon avoid. They were a formidable bunch. Strange and deadly. And he didn’t like to take on things he didn’t understand.

  He picked up one of the gnarled crossbows, grunted, and tossed it aside.

  He took a seat on a log near the extinguished campfire, pulled his hood down, and let the sunlight warm his head. His tattoos sparkled in the bright light. He rubbed the sweat that glistened on his head away with a dark cloth and tucked it back inside is robes.

  “It’s a great day.”

  He grabbed his canteen, took a drink and closed his eyes. Bounced his war mace on his heavy shoulders. Ground his teeth a little.

  Kryzak liked to fight. He was a warrior just as much as a cleric. He hated missing the melee and combat that had occurred over the past couple of days.

  But he was a planner too. Strategic. Cunning. He’d set a trap. A test. He had to get some idea of what his was dealing with in Nath Dragon and his companions.

  The encounter with the Ettins had told a lot. Nath and his companions were strong. Powerful. An efficient team. They trusted one another. It surprised him. He’d figured the Ettins a match for them.

  But he’d been wrong.

  He smashed his mace into th
e ground. Again and again. It was a big thing. Heavy. Meant to be wielded by a big Man such as himself. He could cave plate armor in with it. Bash the locks on heavy doors. He’d killed a Giant with a single blow to the head once. And he was itching to use it again.

  “Barnabus!” Kryzak cursed. “I need a fight.”

  He would get it too. But not before he was ready. He needed to know more.

  His spy would have to fill in the details. His spy had earlier filled him in on everything that had happened. The Giant-sized Dwarf. The magic the part-Elven wizard used. The female wizard as well. Not to mention the arrows and sword that Nath Dragon could wield.

  Even with the help of Ettins and Draykis, Kryzak would be hard pressed to defeat Nath’s party. He’d have to separate them. Maybe kill them off in pieces. He grinned.

  “I like the way I think.”

  He clapped his calloused hands and muttered a mystic word.

  The blackened logs in the pit burst into flames.

  He liked the fire. It had magic, warmth and power. It could do good or bad. Destroy life or save it.

  He poured out his canteen into a pool of water on the ground. Muttered some mystic words and watched the water take form. Then the fire.

  Two tiny elementals, each less than a foot tall, started to battle. Like gladiators that hated each other.

  He laughed, watching them fling tiny balls of fire and water at each other.

  Ssssz. Ssssz. Sssssz.

  They locked up. Wrestled like Minotaurs until they extinguished one another. It made him wonder if evil could truly defeat good. Where would all the excitement be?

  He rubbed the amulet around his neck.

  A Draykis came forward. Towering over him. “Do we hunt?”

  “No, not yet. We’ll wait until they depart the Elven lands,” he said.

  “And then what? Care to let me in?”

  Kryzak scoffed. The Draykis weren’t mindless things. They were the best Dragon Hunters he’d ever used. They made typical poachers―Gnolls, Goblins and Orcs―look like halflings and Gnomes. They were fearless. Never rattled. And if it weren’t for his amulet, he was pretty sure they’d rip him to pieces.

  Kryzak respected them. He had to make sure they respected him.