Shameless Book Promotion Part IV, Half the Book for free!!

Like the title to the post states with these three chapters I have now posted over half of my novel,Ascent of the Holy Blade has now been posted for free on my blog! I hope you have enjoyed my tale so far! Here are chapters 10 through 12 for your enjoyment.

So my dear reader we on on our way to Roughstock with a mayor who was named by defeating a great bear in single combat and a gathering of the gorthin horde as they move closer towards the settlements of man.

Chapter 10



Unlike the stone-walled and red-clay tiled roofs of Stoneheart’s dwellings, the inhabitants

of Roughstock made their homes from squared logs and straw thatched roofs that gave the

village a comfortable, inviting feel to the weary travelers.

The people of Roughstock were like their homes, simple and without much splendor but

warm and welcoming.  Galen watched with amusement as a brown and white herding dog kept

its eyes on two toddlers who played at their mother's feet as she hung some clean clothes out to

dry.  The smallest of the two, a little boy with a wild shock of red hair began to waddle out to the

road when he saw the horses approach.  The herding dog deftly stepped between the boy and the

horses and gently prodded the wayward child back to his mother where the excitement of the

horses was forgotten when he spotted a shiny blue rock which he promptly placed in his mouth

and sucked on.  Chuckling to himself, Galen turned back to studying the village which was very

similar in layout to his own Stoneheart.

The road entered from the west through twin stout oak doors that were braced with

timbers the thickness of a man’s body and in times of trouble the doors could be shut and a

sturdy ironwood beam could be placed length ways across the doors in a series of brackets.  Now

the gates were open since there was no impending doom and they were not at war with a roving

tribe of goblins or a marauding band of gorthins.  Houses lined each side of the street and the villagers

watched the strangers with a wary eye but they were quick to return a smile or wave when Galen or

Mellay greeted them.

A small group of children had begun to follow the Nabukians and gawked at Mellay’s

dark exotic beauty and Ox’s massive size so unlike their own mothers and fathers.  Like its sister

frontier village of Stoneheart, Roughstock’s citizens were known to be stalwart and reliable and

the men were known in the kingdom for their short, muscular frames and hardy stamina that was

necessary to deal with the harsh environments of living in the wild, untamed areas of the

kingdom.  Mellay and Ox’s dark features stood out in stark contrast to the red haired, pale skinned,

and blue eyed inhabitants of Roughstock and even Galen stood a good five inches taller than the

average village man which meant that Ox towered over the stocky frontiersmen.  It was rumored

that the bloodline of Roughstock must have had some dwarves hidden it and after seeing the short,

sturdy people Galen could see why.

The children followed the party to the center of town and hung back a little as the

travelers dismounted in front of a long narrow log building that Tor identified as the town

meeting hall.

“Mayor Bearbreaker is waiting for you inside the hall.  I will see to your mounts while

you confer with him.”  Tor finished as he motion for two teenage boys to come and gather the

reins of the horses.  “Your mounts will be located at the community stable located on the

southern part of the village against the outer wall.  Old Pete will see to it that they are well

tended to and fed before you are out of our meeting.”  Tor bowed deeply towards Sir Olan and

Mellay and tipped his head slightly to Galen and Ox before leading the boys and horses away.

After Tor had left for the stable, two children emerged from the group and approached

Ox.  The older of the two by a year, a raspberry-red haired slip of a girl near her tenth summer

and with a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, turned to her partner looking

for sign of support and the young boy nodded his shaggy, fire-colored mane and quietly

whispered, “Go on, sis, ask him.”

The little girl smiled at her brother and turned her attention back to the warrior that was

nearly three times her height and asked, “Are you a giant?”

Ox gave the two bold children a warm smile and shook his head no.

“He is just a normal man from the Mol’ tan desert and I too am from the Mol Tan,”

answered Mellay with her own smile meant to disarm the children.  “Ox’s body had to be big to

match the size of his heart for there is not a kinder nor gentler man alive that can match his good

spirit.”

“Mellay’s soft words relaxed the two children and the boy ran up and tugged repeatedly

on Ox’s cloak until the nabukian paid attention to him.

“Are you a fighter?  You look like a fighter.  I bet you can fight a whole army of goblins

and win.  I saw a goblin once.  It was dead, da’s patrol had brought it in last summer after the

sheepherder Ovan’s flock had come up missing.  My da is a warrior.  He once broke the back of a

brown bear with nothing but his bare hands.  That’s how we got our name the Bearbreaker’s, yup

my da’ is Gunther Bearbreaker and I’m...”  the boy stopped to suck in air to finish his speech

when he was interrupted by a grizzled man walking out of the hall.

“Helsa, take your brother home and tell your ma that I’ll be late for supper and I’ll be

bringing four guests,” commanded the man.  His words were firm but his eyes twinkled with

mirth at the bravery and innocence of his two brazen children.

“Yes da,” answered Helsa as she tugged on her brother’s arm to lead him back to the

houses.  The boy broke free of the girl’s half-hearted attempt as she was still watching the

newcomers with wide, sharp eyes absorbing every detail about them. The boy ran back to Ox and

stuck out his tiny hand in greetings, “ I’m Radek Bearbreaker and someday I’m going to be a

great warrior like my father.”  Ox shook the boy’s hand and then Radek turned and with a last

wave the two children ran down the street and disappeared around a corner.

Ox chuckled to himself and watched the children until they ran out of view and then he

turned his attention back to the children’s father who was involved in a hushed discussion with

Sir Olan.

“We will discuss your news at length while you and your companions join me for lunch,

Sir Olan.  Until then please enjoy our humble village.  It may not be as large or glamorous as the

capitol, Avolund's Pride, but it suits us fine.”

“I thank you for the hospitality of Roughstock and the generous offer of dining with you

in your home, Mayor Gunther Bearbreaker.”  Replied Sir Olan formally with a slight bow.

Galen could tell by the way Olan stood stiffly that he would rather that Mayor

Bearbreaker would have called the village together right then but that was not the way of this

small frontier town mayor.

“If you will then please follow me.  I will take you to my home where my wife, Elsa, is

preparing a topnotch meal for you,” said Gunther and then turned and followed the path the

children had taken minutes before.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a growl from his stomach Galen followed the mayor

through the streets of Roughstock and the rest followed behind them.  Mellay quickly came up

next to Galen and slipped her warm soft hand into his and the two walked hand in hand.  Galen

looked down at the slightly shorter Mellay in surprise, but she gave him a wide grin that was

reflected in her enchanting emerald eyes and Galen couldn’t help himself and returned the smile.

********************

An hour later Sir Olan was complementing Mrs. Bearbreaker on her outstanding meal of

potato soup, fried ham, corn muffins, and spiced cider while Galen and Ox patted their full

bellies.  In a corner of the modest wooden home Mellay played cat’s cradle with Helsa while

Radek stared at Ox with unabashed awe.

“You know how to play cat’s cradle?”  Asked Galen as he sat down next to Mellay and

Helsa.

“A string is a common thing in all lands Galen,” answered Mellay as she twisted her

hands and removed the web of strings from Helsa’s fingers to hers.  “We didn’t call it cat’s cradle

but it is still the same game.”  Helsa took the web and shifted it into a new position but lost it as

it slipped off her thumb.

“I almost had the...the...,” started Helsa as she slumped her shoulders in disappointment.

“What did you call it again Mellay?”

“The Sand Tiger’s Claw.”  Mellay took the looped string back from the young girl and after

a few deft twists of her wrist and fingers Mellay had the looped string around all her fingers and

thumb, resembling the outstretched paw of the great cat who hunted the blowing dunes of the

Mol’ Tan desert.

“Time for your studies children,” stated Elsa Bearbreaker as she dried her hands on the

wool apron at her waist.  Radek and Helsa complained, but Lady Bearbreaker would brook none

of their nonsense.  “Tell our company goodbye and hug your father before you wash up and go to

your room.”  The large wooden spoon keeping time against her ample hip set the children into

motion more than the stern note of her voice.

With a bow to their guests and a hug and kiss from their father the Bearbreaker children

scampered off to wash up and left the adults to discuss the events that brought the party to

Roughstock.

Gunther handed a bag of tabac to Sir Olan and Ox who had produced their pipes for a

hearty after lunch smoke.

“Now what news do you bring about the accursed gorthins that warrants a Knight of

Everwatch to leave the safe walls of his monastery to warn an insignificant town like

Roughstock,” queried the mayor after he had lit his own pipe and was again resting comfortably

in his high backed wooden chair.

Galen was taken back at the bluntness of Gunther’s question that bordered on rudeness,

but Sir Olan seemed to take the jab in stride.   Placing his pipe down on the table with one hand

so he could lock eyes with Mayor Gunther without having to look around a smoking pipe Sir

Olan addressed the mayor.

“The gorthins are massing an army to take back an artifact that the knights have hidden in

the village of Stoneheart.  The path of this army leads through Roughstock.  They will leave no

survivors behind.”

From the kitchen came a gasp followed by a loud crash as a piece of shattered as it hit the

wooden floor.  Everyone’s attention was drawing to the doorway that lead to the kitchen where

they saw Lady Bearbreaker with wide eyes staring at them while the hands that previously held a

clay pitcher were clutched tightly over her mouth.

“See to the children Elsa,” Gunther stated to his shocked wife.  Elsa continued to stare at

Sir Olan as if he was so horrid thing that had just entered her house.  “Elsa, check on the

children.  It sounds as if there is more wrestling going on than getting ready for their books.”

Repeated Mayor Gunther in a louder, firmer voice.

On cue from their father’s words there was a muffled thump as something heavy hit the

floor upstairs and was followed by Helsa’s high voice yelling at Radek to stop hitting her.

Moved from her temporary paralysis by the commotion of ornery children Elsa picked up

the broken pieces of crockery before excusing herself and heading upstairs.  Elsa was built like

her robust husband with muscled legs and arms from chopping wood and daily chores that even

the mayor’s wife wasn’t excused from, and when she reached the squabbling children she

wrapped one under each arm and carried them to bed.

Trying to wiggle from his mother's iron grip, Radek twisted to wave one last time to Ox.

The nabukian responded with a smile and wave to the entertaining young boy who returned the

grin right before his mother tossed him into his bedroom.

After the commotion had settled down Gunther turned his attention back to the knight.

“We’ve dealt with raiding bands of gorthins before Sir Olan.  So why do you bring this

news to my house and frighten my family?”

“This will be no raiding party Mayor Gunther.  The gorthins will attack with an entire

army and  I recommend that you and the people of Roughstock evacuate and join with the people

of Stoneheart.  Your chances of survival on your own is very slim for either Roughstock or

Stoneheart.  Stoneheart is right now preparing to meet the gorthin threat.  They have fortified the

village and gathered their militia.  They are already preparing where you have yet to start.”

Finished Sir Olan.

Gunther Bearbreaker sat and chewed over Sir Olan’s counsel and after a long while he

spoke.  “I will gather the village elders but do not expect there to be much support for your idea

of running like rabbits.  We are a proud and independent people and I doubt that anyone will

wish to leave, myself included.  Now if you will excuse me I need to rouse the councilors.”  With

a bow to Sir Olan and Mellay, Mayor Bearbreaker left his sturdy log home.

“Do you think they will aid us at Stoneheart Uncle?”

“Probably not Galen.  These frontier people are very proud and independent lot.  They

have worked all their lives to carve out a notch in this wilderness to call their own and I don’t

believe they can be forced from it by anyone.  I fear that in the near future the village of

Roughstock will be no more.”  Stated Olan sadly.  “But we still had to warn them.  It is our duty

as knights and followers of the Savior to look out for our fellow man.”

*************************************************

It had taken two hours for the council to gather at the long hall in the center of town.

When they had all convened they formed a standing circle with Mayor Gunther and Sir Olan in

its center while Galen , Mellay, and Ox leaned against the waxed walls hung with paintings that

depicted the growth of Roughstock.  As Sir Olan had expected and Gunther had foretold things

were not going the way the companions had hoped it would.  They had listened politely to Sir

Olan as he recounted the tale for the counsel at Gunther’s request but now they were voicing

their outrage at the thought of fleeing Roughstock .

“I for one will not leave my home on account of those stinkin’ blood drinkers.  I have

fought them off before as has my father and his father before him,” growled Olric the blacksmith

as he pounded his hammer of war against his calloused palm.

“I’m with Olric,” said Voc, an ex-sergeant in the King’s army who had retired in

Roughstock with his wife and seven children.  “Besides the old gorthin hide I got laying in front

of the fire place is getting wore out and I could use a new one.”  That brought a chuckle from the

hardened villagers of Roughstock.

And so it went with all the council members refusing to leave and scoffing at the idea of

running from mere gorthins.

Sir Olan pulled Gunther to the side and was speaking to him when the doors burst open to

the hall, and a winded, haggard figure ran in.

The man’s long hair was pulled back in what was normally a thick braid that ran down

the middle of his back but now many of the hairs had escaped and were sticking out in various

directions giving him a wild look.  His stout woolen clothes were torn in several places, at his

side hung an empty short sword scabbard and a broken horn bow hung forgotten in his hand.

“Mayor... gorthins...brother dead,” panted the man.

“That’s Buroc.  He and his brother, Tarok, were hunting for the great horned deer two

days walk from here in the Bentwood Forest.”  Identified Olric.

“Those two were more at home in those woods than the animals that lived there.  If

something was able to chase them from the Bentwood Forest then maybe we should heed the

knights warning after all.”  Pondered Mot the baker aloud.

“Quiet!” Ordered Gunther, “I can’t make out what Buroc is saying.  Now catch your

breath and tell us what happened to  you and Tarok.”

“My brother and I were hunting in the Bentwood when we encountered a pair of gorthins

alone in the woods.  They were the winged kind and one didn’t seem to be able to fly.  Tarok

thought it would be fun to capture one and mount its head on our lodge wall with our other

trophies,” said Buroc between sobs.  “It was an ambush and when we jumped into the clearing

with our bows targeted on the winged gorthins a score of the big ones burst from the trees and

surrounded us.  I shot one of the brutes as he closed in and jumped over his body as he fell and

escaped into the forest, but they caught my brother.  I followed them to their camp and watched

at a distance as they gave Tarok to their leader.  I waited all day until nightfall when the black-

furred monster gathered his army and sacrificed my brother to his demon-god amid the cheering

of that devilish gathering.  I must have cried out because a group of gorthins turned and spotted

me in my hiding place and called out for help before giving chase.”

“How many gorthins?” Asked Sir Olan.

“They killed my brother,” sobbed the man again.

Grabbing the man firmly on both shoulders and forcing Buroc to look at him, Sir Olan

repeated his question.  “How Many?  How many gorthins were at the camp Buroc?”

The man sat silently and stared at the floor in front of him until Galen thought that Buroc

had succumbed to the trauma and blocked out reality.

“Five hundred,” whispered the battered Buroc.  “Five hundred blood-thirsty gorthins are

marching on Roughstock.”

































Chapter 11


The village of Roughstock was a beehive of activity as Mayor Bearbreaker lead Sir Olan

and Ox to the stable.  Galen and Mellay followed closely behind watching the villagers prepare

for the impending attack.  Men sharpened axes and swords with grim determination while village

elders supervised a line of teenage boys that filled buckets with water for dousing fires.   Mothers

gathered children and herded them to the village hall while widows and young girls readied

bandages and poultices.  Some of the men were giving last minute instructions on the use of the

bow to a group of boys that hadn’t seen their twelfth summer yet and by the forlorn look on their

beardless faces didn’t expect to.

Galen watched while a twig of a boy fumbled with the ties of his overly large quiver and

then lost his horn bow as it slid from its precarious perch on the boy’s shoulder to the ground.

Slumping his shoulders in resignation and frustration, the boy began to sob quietly.

His heart going out to the young lad, Galen walked over and lifted the tear streaked face

to meet his.

“Let me show you something,” Galen said as he picked up the dropped bow.  “Angle it

across your chest, that way the bow sets securely on your back and won’t slip off.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the boy as he wiped a stray tear away and sniffed back a sob.

“I’m not usually this clumsy but the gorthins have me a bit scared I guess.”

“My name is Galen.  What’s yours?”  Asked Galen as he pulled his own powerful

longbow from his broad back.

“Jax, Jax Allcar.  My dad and mom died last year to Winter's Kiss, but the villagers all

take care of me now.”  Jax answered quietly as he watched Galen fit an arrow onto the bowstring

and drew it back to his ear.

Glancing out the corner of his eye at the boy, Galen felt respect for Jax sounding so

strong after losing his parents to the disease that was a harsh combination of frostbite and fever

that ate the body from inside out.  Truly the villagers of Roughstock were amazing people to

have cared for the orphan as one of their own.

“See that apple down there on that cart, Jax?”   Galen asked without relaxing the string.

“Yea, but that’s a hundred paces away and it’s the size of my fist.  There’s no way

you’ll...”

Galen tuned out the rest of Jax’s words as he slid into the now and focused on only the

apple.  Mentally visualizing his arrow splitting the apple in twine, Galen released the taut

bowstring.  The arrow streaked across the open ground and in the span of a heart beat the apple

lay in two halves.

“Would you like to learn how I did that?”  Galen asked Jax, replacing the bow across his

back.
Jax nodded his head vigorously in acceptance.

“First, close your mouth.  I’m going to show how to shoot your bow, not catch flies.”

Jax’s open jaw shut with an audible snap.  “Second, when you aim, breathe in and out slowly.  It

will steady your arm.  Lastly, imagine your arrow hitting your target concentrating on the place

you want to hit.  Got it?”

“I think so.”  Jax lifted the smaller horn bow, notched an arrow, and drew the string back

to his cheek.

“Now slow your breathing, good.  Visualize your arrow in the bull’s eye on that target in

front of you.”  Galen coached.

A furrow of concentration creased Jax’s brow as he focused on the hay stack target.  Two

breaths later the arrow flew from the bow and stuck, quivering, in the red painted circle.

“I did it Galen!” Shouted Jax with pride.  “I did exactly as you said and the arrow hit the

mark.”

“Good shot Jax,” congratulated Galen, tousling the boy’s straw colored hair.  “The

gorthins will quake in fear of your eagle-eyed archery prowess.”

After giving Jax a grin that the boy returned with a new found confidence, Galen returned

to Mellay’s side and the couple hurried to catch up with the rest of the group.

“That was very kind of you,” stated Mellay and gave Galen’s gloved hand a squeeze and

rewarded him with one of her dazzling smiles.

“He looked lost and I felt it was the right thing to do by helping him,” Galen stated with a

shrug of his shoulders.  “Jax and the other boys will be going through a difficult trial soon and

maybe that simple exercise will boost his confidence.  The gorthins will be difficult enough to

face without his own fear aiding the monsters.”

“That is true,”  teased Mellay with her wide, knowing smile full of perfect pearl white

teeth that seemed brighter than possible against her darkened skin.  “But I still think it was sweet

of you.”

Galen blushed fiercely from Mellay’s praise, but his discomfort was soon overcome by

the desert woman’s sparkling eyes and warm smile.  The young Stoutheart returned the smile

with one of his own and returned the squeeze with his own calloused grip.

“Let’s hurry and catch up before Ox begins to tear the town apart trying to find me,”

teased Mellay as she lead Galen away at a jog towards the rough, wooden stable.

The pair arrived at the stable as Old Pete’s two hired hands were leading the party’s

horses from their stalls to a line of hitching posts.

The horses stamped nervously at the ground, anxious to be their way as their owners

readied saddles and packs for the road ahead.  All except Blade who stood still munching on a

mouthful of oats that Old Pete had given him.

“Haven’t seen a horse like that in Roughstock in some time,” growled the stable owner

sucking his one good tooth as he studied the trained warhorse with an appreciative eye. “Not

since my days as a youth in the king’s cavalry have I seen such a well-trained or maintained

warhorse.  Seems you knights know how to pick em’.”

“Thank you sir.  Blade and I have been together for several years and he has been the

most loyal mount I have ever owned.  We’ve been together so long that it’s as if he can read my

mind.  When we go into battle I don’t have to give him a single command.  He knows what has

to be done and does it.”  Beamed Sir Olan with pride.  He had raised Blade from a colt and

personally trained the magnificent charger himself.

“That white desert racer’s a fine animal too.  I’ll give you seventeen gold coins for her.”

Old Pete offered Sir Olan while he thoughtfully rubbed at the stubbly growth on his weathered

chin.

Galen saw Mellay’s eyes blaze with fury and a quivering hand slid to the hilt of her

shortsword.

“If you are interested in that fine racer then you need to speak with her owner.”  With a

gauntleted finger Sir Olan pointed to the infuriated Mellay.

“I beg your pardon good knight.  I had assumed that the dark skinned devils were either

servants of yours or prisoners,” explained Old Pete averting his eyes from the piercing eyes of

the knight.  “I’ll not offer two bent coopers for the Nabukian’s mount let alone speak to the witch

so she can cast a curse on me!”  Old Pete spat at the ground as if trying to remove a bad taste

from his mouth.  

Galen watched in disbelief while the stable owner continued to glare at the Nabukians.

He had not expected such open hatred out of the villagers of Roughstock whose own founders

were known for less than scrupulous pasts and had moved north to start their lives over again

under pardons of the king.

The young man’s blood began to boil as he watched the anger melt from his lover’s face

and was replaced with a painful look of sorrow.  Mellay slid her hand from the short sword’s hilt

and walked over to mount Dahknee.

“Good riddance,” snarled Old Pete.  “Roughstock has no need of your kind.”

Knowing that Mellay and Ox had turned their backs on their dark heritage and seeing the

pain that this ignorant fool’s words were causing the surprisingly sensitive Mellay, Galen could

stand no more and with the speed of a striking viper he had a hold of Old Pete’s scruffy tunic and

was holding him several inches off the ground.

“What gives you the right to judge these people?”  Snarled Galen into the old man’s

weathered face.

“I served in the king’s army for twenty years and was stationed at the border keeps where

we had to fight those dark skinned monster’s nearly every day.  I had to listen at night while they

peeled the skin from captured soldiers, some of them my friends, just out of bow range!”  Old

Pete growled back.  “I still wake up with their screams echoing in my head!”

A small crowd of villagers had started to gather drawn by the shouting.  Sir Olan realized

that if something didn’t happen quickly they would have to fight their way out.  The older knight,

after spotting the grim looks etched on Galen and Ox’s faces wasn’t sure if there was anything he

could do to diffuse the situation.

Sensing Galen and Ox’s growing anger and worried that her companions were about to

carve a bloody path on their way out of Roughstock because of her, Mellay took things into her

own hands.

The merchant’s daughter slowly approached Old Pete, and placing a calming hand on

Galen’s quivering arm, spoke loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear but gently enough to

show the sincerity of her words.

“Put him down Galen.  He has the right to feel this way and violence on our part only

strengthens their belief in the evil of the Nabukians.”

Galen looked into Mellay’s eyes and saw his lover’s conviction in her plan.  He glared

once more into Old Pete’s eyes, then lowered the man to the ground and stepped back to allow

Mellay to face Old Pete.

“I know that my people have committed heinous acts against the good people Avolund

and it is because of Ox and my beliefs against these crimes that we are no longer in the fiendish

embrace of the Mol’ tan and its evil inhabitants.  But if you truly believe that I am here to harm

you or your kin then I submit myself to you and your justice.”

The nabukian woman seemed more akin to an angel then a demonic monster as she slid

here razor-edged short sword from its scabbard and presented it, hilt first, to the stunned stable

master and knelt, head bowed, before him.

Galen made a strangled noise and moved to intercept the expected blow while Ox lunged

for the offered blade.

Sir Olan placed a restraining hand on Galen’s heaving chest and in a firm voice reasoned

with the impassioned youth, “If you value her life and ours then you need to trust her.  Mellay

knows what she is doing.”

Galen stopped trying to reach Mellay but his eyes never left her kneeling form and

heartache slowly seeped into his agonized gaze.

With an outstretched palm, Mellay stopped Ox in his tracks, but he too seemed to fight

the effects of gathering despair.

Old Pete watched all this without breathing a word and stared at the short sword as if it

was an alien tool that he didn’t understand the purpose of.  In his heart battled the hatred he felt

for the Nabukians and the image this confounding young woman presented against his stereo-

typed ideals.  The old veteran had always put his faith in the Savior and at this time he closed his

eyes and prayed to Him for guidance.

After several tense moments where no one dared move, the ex-soldier opened his eyes

and saw not a life-long enemy helpless before him, but a beautiful young woman that seemed to

glow with an aura of goodness.  Tears welled in his eyes as he helped Mellay to her feet.

“Forgive me my lady,” asked Old Pete as he took a knee before her and raised her hand to

his lips and kissed it.  “I am an old fool that has hidden behind a ugly ignorance, but you have

dispelled the hatred and for that I am grateful.”

Mellay, with unshed tears of her own, helped Old Pete to his feet.  “There is nothing to

forgive.  I am glad that you were able to see me for what I am and not what others believe me to

be because of my dark heritage.”

Olan patted Galen on the shoulder as the young man slumped with relief. “I told you she

had everything under control.”

Ox continued to watch the gathered crowd with a wary eye expecting them to swarm

until he saw Mellay signing to him,  “Relax my friend.  These are good people and they will not

harm us without just cause which they do not have.”

The companions mounted up and prepared to leave without any further complications.

Many of the villagers wished them good luck but Galen noticed more than a couple of sour looks

directed at Mellay and Ox when they thought no one was looking.  Once they reached the

wooden gates Old Pete took his leave of them.

“May the Savior be with you on your journey and in the upcoming days.”  With a slight

bow to Sir Olan and a deeper bow to Mellay he was off back to the stables.

Mayor Bearbreaker was waiting for them at the gates and spoke with Sir Olan as they

awaited the portals to be opened.

“Are you sure you won’t join the people of Stoneheart in defense against your common

enemy?”  Asked Sir Olan one more time.  “Alone neither village can stand against a horde of that

size.”

“I thank you for the offer but the people of Roughstock are a proud group and won’t give

up their homes to those flea-bitten creatures.  No, we will stay and defend are homes to the end,

but we are glad of the offer.”  Gunther extended his arm to the daunted knight.

Olan reached out to the mayor and the two clasped forearms, and Sir Olan placed his free

hand on the burly fighter’s shoulder.

“May the Savior be with you and your people and may your sword arm never falter.  The

villagers of Roughstock are a brave and noble and their valiant effort will buy Stoneheart more

precious time to prepare.”  Praised the knight.

The mayor accepted the compliment with a slight nod and a crooked smile that showed

more than a few missing teeth.  “You’re welcome to any of the monsters that happen to escape our

blades and arrows but don’t expect there to be many.”

The troupe resumed ride through the gates but found their way blocked by two

diminutive figures.  The Bearbreaker children had also come to see off their new friends.

Helsa handed a Mellay a small package wrapped in a blue and red plaid cloth.

“What’s this?” Asked a surprised Mellay while she unwrapped the tiny present.  Inside

was the string loop her and Helsa had been playing with the night before.  The simple gift

brought tears to the appreciative desert woman.

“It’s so you won’t forget us,” explained the young girl, a somber look on her freckled face.

“If we don’t see you again.”

“Thank you Helsa,” replied Mellay with a sincere smile and a warm hug.  “I will treasure

it always.”

The two separated wiping tears from their cheeks with the backs of their hands as

Radek’s show of bravado was reaching its crescendo with Ox and Galen doing their best to hide

their mirth at the youngest Bearbreaker’s enthusiasm.

“I’m telling you Ox and Galen, I’m going to whip a hundred of those mangy gorthins all

by myself,” bragged Radek with a thump to his puffed out tiny chest.  “I bet that I’ll beat so

many of them that they will call me, Radek Gorthinbreaker and the king will make me a lord

with my own castle!”

“I bet he will,” agreed Galen trying to fight back an ear splitting grin that was doing its

best to creep across his face.

Ox was doing a better job of controlling his mirth and was nodding his head in agreement

with Radek’s boast.  Ox’s dark eyes clouded over as he studied the tiny Bearbreaker in front of

him for a moment as if trying to come to terms with some inner demon.

Knowing the giant’s grim past, Galen had a pretty good idea of what was going through

the dark passages of Ox’s mind.  Nightmares of an assassin’s blade and the loss of a young child

that he had failed to protect were being reflected in the face of Radek and his approaching death

and the hands of the merciless gorthins.

Placing a hand on Ox’s shoulder, Galen freed the nabukian from his torture and brought

him back to the present.  Ox snapped his eyelids as if waking from a bad dream.

“Are you all right Ox?” Asked Radek with a hint of worry.

Ox answered the boy with a warm broad smile and removed a small ornate dagger from

his belt and handed it to Radek.

Radek took the knife gently in his hands like it was a new born child and gazed in awe at

the golden hilt engraved in the shape of a springing tiger.  The sun twinkled in the tiger’s ruby

eyes, and Radek’s wide eyes were mirrored in the highly polished and serpentine blade as he

drew it from the bejeweled scabbard.

“Thank you,” stammered Radek without removing his eyes from the curved dagger.

Gunther watched the exchange in heartfelt sympathy for Ox.  Sir Olan had explained the

flight of the Nabukians and their past that had caused them to flee their homelands into a hostile

kingdom with little chance of acceptance.  Normally he would not have allowed Radek to accept

such an extravagant gift but the mayor sensed that it was more to soothe Ox’s tormented soul

then to impress the young boy.  Ox had wanted to stay and defend the village if he hadn’t

mistaken the giant’s facial expression after the knight had announced they would be leaving and

the heated discussion he and his fellow nabukian had.  Gunther would have gladly accepted the

warrior’s assistance, nabukian or not, but Ox would not leave Mellay and Mellay did not seem to

be in any hurry to leave her young man from Stoneheart.

“Helsa, Radek, your mother needs help filling buckets with water and making poultices,”

the mayor of Roughstock reminded his children.

With a final wave the two children reluctantly walked back through the gates that closed

with a loud boom as the sentries slammed the wooden crosspieces into place and sealing the gate

shut.  To Galen it sounded like the lid of a coffin being nailed on.

Each of the companions rode in silence as the left the village of Roughstock behind them,

each lost in their own thoughts.

Able to stand it no longer Galen blurted his frustration to his uncle.

“I don’t understand why they just don’t join the people of Stoneheart?  They know that

they are going to be overran and that they have no chance of defeating the gorthins!  Those

stubborn fools aren’t only sentencing themselves to death but also their children!”

“Try to see the situation through their eyes Galen,” advised Olan.  “Would the people of

Stoneheart be in any more of a hurry to leave their village to join in the defense of another.  No,

you northmen are a hardy group of people that could give mules a lesson in stubbornness and

advise trees on how to establish roots.”

Galen began to shake his head in denial but deep in his heart he knew that the villagers of

Stoneheart would do the same despite the greater chance of success by uniting forces, they were

just to proud.

“I see your point Uncle.  It just pains me to think of all those children about to be

slaughtered by those monsters.  I saw the blood-lust in that gorthin’s eyes and I don’t believe for

one moment that it would let a child go just because it couldn’t defend itself.”

“Unfortunately for the little ones you are right Galen.  Gorthins are not known for their

mercy and if our information is correct the gorthin’s need the blood of innocent children to bring

forth Ahmah with the chalice.”

That was the last straw for Ox.  The enormous warrior, whose heart matched his great

girth, wheeled his horse around and began to race back towards the distant gates.

“Mellay, catch Ox and tell him I have a plan but I need his help,” ordered the knight.

“Hurry, I don’t want him to see those children or we’ll never get him to leave again.”

Mellay’s smaller but much faster horse, Dahknee, quickly caught up to Ox’s hulking

warhorse and she grasped hold of the dun-colored gelding’s halter and with a sharp tug brought

the horse to a stop.

“Let me go!”  Signed the angered giant.  “Those villager’s need my strength and skill.  I

will not have my dreams haunted again with the screams of dying children after I finally have

ridden myself of them!”

“Olan has a plan, trust him,” pleaded Mellay.  “You know that the Knights of Everwatch

are a honorable group.  He would not leave those people without some idea of how to help

them.”

The fire in Ox’s eyes receded to a simmer while he digested Mellay’s words.  In his heart

Ox knew that Sir Olan would not abandon the people of Roughstock without trying to aid them

in some way.  With a heavy heart and a deep sigh Ox followed Mellay back to the others.

“Forgive me Olan for doubting you and your wisdom.  I believe that the Savior has given

you some insight of what needs to be done.  I wavered at the idea of the children being

massacred while we turned tails for the safety of Stoneheart.”

“I don’t like it either Ox, but we are going to try and help these people.  We are going to

double back once we’re out of sight of the village and see if we can’t find the gorthin army.  I

have faith that once we find them something will present its self to aid us.  We just have to have

faith.”  Responded Sir Olan.

The companions continued down the road with Olan and Ox carrying on a conversation

on what ways they might be able to divert the gorthins from attacking Roughstock.  Galen

moved Mercury up alongside Dahknee to ask Mellay what had transpired between Olan and Ox.

“What did Olan tell Ox?  Does he have a plan?”

“He plans on doubling back on or trail once we’re out of sight of the gates and then seek

out the gorthins.  He believes that your god will present some plan to save the village.”

The two rode on in silence watching the conversation between the two veteran warriors

up ahead.  For Galen, being unable to understand Ox’s sign language, it was a one-sided

discussion and he turned his attention back to Mellay.

“I’m sorry for the way Old Pete treated you back there.  If I had known something like

that would happen we could have just let Olan go in and deliver his message.”

“My people have a cruel history and Old Pete reacted from his own past experiences.  I

have heard tales from the soldiers who returned from their attacks on the border keeps and the

tales of torture they proudly proclaim have made me blanche in disgust.  No I don not blame him

for his harsh actions.  I’m just glad he was able look past my heritage to see the person that is

me.”

“When we reach Stoneheart you may have to go through the same treatment but know

this Mellay, I will be at your side through it all.”

Mellay watched the sincerity in Galen’s face as her ears absorbed his vow that flowed

from his heart and into hers.  She had known when her and Ox had fled the desert that they

would face persecution but she had never had hoped to meet someone like Galen and Sir Olan

who look past her skin color to see the shining soul that had never truly fit in with her land’s dark

culture.

She placed her hand in Galen’s and leaned across to kiss him lightly on the cheek.  She

smiled at him with her rosebud lips and alluring eyes and Galen felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Thank you Galen for accepting me and for allowing us to accompany you and your

uncle on what is obviously an important mission for your people.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled back at her.  “Let’s catch up. It looks like Olan has found

the place where he wants to leave the road and double back.”

A look of surprise spread across Mellay face when Galen’s word brought her attention to

the distance that had come between them and Olan and Ox.  The two young lovers spurred their

mounts to rejoin the others.

Dahknee and Mercury, after being confined to the stables for a day, were eager to stretch

their legs.  The two competitive horses flew down the road trying to outdo their counterpart.

“We were wondering when you two were going to bless us with your presence,” teased

Sir Olan while Ox grinned at his side.

Galen and Mellay both hid their embarrassment behind goodhearted smiles.

“We’re going to head north and east past Roughstock now.  There could be Skylings, the

flying gorthins, anywhere so let’s keep a sharp eye out.”  Informed Olan.

They rode for five hours, passing Roughstock without arousing any suspicion, before

stopping for a quick lunch of jerky and water.  Galen was starting to gather wood for a fire when

Olan stopped him.

“No fires until we get back to Stoneheart, Galen,” ordered Olan.  “A fire would act as a

beacon to let anyone around know of our presence.  I want to find the gorthins, not they find

us.”

“Sorry Uncle,” apologized Galen sheepishly.  “I had just thought it would be a good idea

to warm up a bit.”

“Let’s get moving.  I want to use as much of the daylight to travel as we can.  All gorthins

can see in the dark better than a human.”  Informed the knight after he had mounted Blade.

“Galen, take the lead and keep your bow ready, I’ll follow, Mellay you’re after me and Ox bring

up the rear.”

They all nodded their heads in agreement and took their positions.  When everyone was

ready Olan told Galen to head out and for them all to keep a sharp eye out for anything out of the

ordinary.

Knowing that his uncle had separated him and Mellay on purpose, Galen was determined

show his uncle that he could still perform as expected.  So when the sun just had started to set

Galen was the one who spotted the three winged figures flying up ahead.

“Look Uncle, three Skylings flying to the left, above that group of black spruce.”

“Good work Galen,” praised Olan with a pat on Galen’s heavy shoulder.

“Do you think they saw us?” Asked Mellay while she unconsciously rubbed the hilts of

her short swords.  They looked big even at this distance, but she had fought things larger than her

in the pits so it was more out of curiosity then fear that prompted her to ask.

“I don’t believe so,” answered Olan.  “They would have made a circle over us to gather

information to take back to their chief.”

Just the same everyone loosened their weapons in their scabbards to make sure they

would slide free when needed.  Only Sir Olan seemed unaffected by the sight of the gorthins.  He

stroked his mustache while he watched the Skylings until they dropped from the sky a short

distance away.  They watched in silence waiting to see if the scouts would regain their flight, but

after a half an hour of waiting Olan quietly addressed the group.

“It looks like we have found the gorthin army.  It will take us about an hour to get to that

clearing they landed in.  We will wait until the night has settled across the land and use the

darkness to get as close to the camp as we can to study their forces.  Galen and Ox, I want you

to picket the horses.  We will have to approach the army on foot so the horses won’t smell the

gorthins.  Untrained horses can’t stand the smell of the foul creatures and will bolt at the first

whiff.  After that everyone get some rest we may have to go without sleep until we reach

Stoneheart.”

Everyone did as they were ordered while Sir Olan knelt on the ground to pray.  He had

always found things to work out better when he prayed to the Savior for guidance.  Mellay

watched in silence.  She wanted to believe in the religion that seemed to bring such peace to her

troubled friend and hope to the knight, but she found it difficult to let go of the misgivings

brought about by the dark religion of her childhood.

“Someday maybe,” she muttered softly to herself.  She then took a blanket and curled up

beneath the sheltering branches of a low hanging pine tree.

Ox watched Mellay’s inner struggle as it danced across her face and he hoped that his

friend would see the knight’s religion for what it was.  When he had accepted the Savior into his

grieving heart Ox had finally found peace from the darkness that had followed him these past

years.  He lay on a blanket and fingered the wooden cross he had bought from a peddler in

Roughstock and prayed silently.

“Blessed Savior, I thank you for freeing me of my guilt and I ask that you help Mellay to

free herself from the dark bindings of Nabuk and show her the warmth, love, and peace that you

have blessed me with.  In your name I pray, amen.”  Ox finished his prayer and being a veteran

soldier of many campaigns,  listened to Olan’s advice an fell asleep.

Galen was exhausted from his strenuous day in the saddle trying to constantly watch

everywhere at one time and needed no encouragement from his uncle to get some rest.  But when

sleep finally did take him it was filled with confusing dreams of Mellay, the beautiful sword of

his other dream, a image of a vast blackness trying to smother out a single point of light and he

knew if the light went out the blackness would sweep across Avolund, destroying everything, and

of a evil looking  axe that was trying to hunt him down and kill him.

Olan woke him in a few hours to tell Galen that it was time to find the camp.  Galen

rolled his blanket it up and tried to stretch the soreness that seemed to have invaded his body

while he slept.  He looked at the others but none of them seemed to be worse for wear.

“It must be because I’m not use to this soldier stuff,” he explained to himself.  The

confusing dream had been erased from his memory which would have explained the ill feelings

he was experiencing.  As it was Galen just passed it off on the riding, biting cold and lack of

warm food.

“Olan, if the gorthins can see in the dark then why are we spying on them when its pitch-

black out?”  Asked Mellay as she ran a whetstone across the dinged edge of one of her blades.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to do this when we can see as well as they can?”

“If there was a moon that would light the sky for them to see then yes we would have to

wait, but since there is no moon and the stars are hiding they cannot see any better than us.”

Explained Olan.  “Now let’s be off.”

The group quietly slipped off into the woods, heading in the direction of the gorthin army.

All of them drew their cloaks tightly around them to muffle the sound of jingling armor and

scabbards.  Within the hour they were on their bellies lying atop a ridge overlooking the vast

gorthin army.
 


     

Chapter 12



From their hiding place on the ridge the party studied the gorthins trying to gauge how

many from each clan there were.  Large bonfires were placed in a semi-circle on a bare knoll in

the middle of the open valley.  What few trees that had sparsely populated the valley were now a

blazing backdrop to a small group of gorthins that appeared to be addressing the gathered host.

“Galen, do you see the largest group of gorthins in the middle of the gathering?”

Questioned Olan.

Did he see them?  How could he miss them?  Galen had been unable to remove his eyes

from the strangely armored giants.  They were twice as muscular as the gorthin that he had slain

and at least a foot taller.  Unlike the one from his encounter these gorthins had no wings.  Galen

then remembered Olan’s lesson on the gorthin clans and recognition dawned in his eyes.

“Those are the fighters, the Warmuh,” stated Galen.  “What are they wearing?  It’s like no

armor I’ve ever seen.”

“It is made from the scales of a crag wurm.  The armor can turn aside most blades and

arrows and the rough ridges of the scales can serve as a weapon.  I’ve seen men gutted by a

swipe of a bracer made from crag wurm scales.  That is probably their leader,” Olan pointed at a

brute of a figure who was making his way to the top of the knoll.

Next to him Mellay let at a low whistle.  “Look at him Ox.  He makes even you look

small.”

“At least he couldn’t use me for a toothpick.”  Ox teased back with a grin.

Klankor reached the waiting Blackfur and made a slight bow to his new king.  “Your

army has been gathered as you commanded my king.  They await your audience.”

“Good work Klankor,” Blackfur praised while he moved forward to address his army of

bloodthirsty warriors.  The Blood King raised his hands to quiet the restless gorthins.

“My brothers, tomorrow we will fall upon the human settlement of Roughstock!”

Proclaimed the king.

“The Skylings have reported that the walls are armed with children archers and most of

their soldiers are either long in the tooth or barely away from their mother’s skirt strings.  Their

pathetic wooden wall will fall before our might and we will drink their blood before the sun has

set!”

The battle-hungry horde began to chant the name of their new king who was about to lead

them into victory against the cursed humans.

“Blackfur!  Blackfur!”  They roared.

Blackfur drew his hellish axe from his back and jabbed it at the night sky.  “For the glory

of Ahmah!”  Corrected Blackfur and flames burst from the edges of the wicked axe.

The incensed mob picked up the new chant, “For the glory of Ahmah!  For the glory of

Ahmah!”

Surveying his gathered forces, the  Blood King began to notice something peculiar.

Everywhere he looked there was either the hulking Warmuhs or the lanky Skylings.  Noticeably

missing were the Morgogs draped in their heavy black cloaks.

Turning his head so he could see the Morgog chief, Blackfur questioned Cutter. “Explain

to me Cutter, why everywhere I look I see loyal Warmuhs and Skylings but no Morgogs.  Surely

you and you’re shadow killers support your new king.”

“Isn’t that the duty of the Morgogs, my king,” sneered Cutter, his voice dripping with

acid.  “To remain hidden until it’s time to bury the blade.”

Enraged by the Morgog chief’s insubordination, Blackfur turned to charge the impetuous

Cutter and cleave him in two with his axe.

Blackfur!  There is a holy presence nearby. Warned Maruk.  A very powerful holy

presence but I cannot locate it from inside this axe.  Have your shaman search that ridge for its

source.

The demon’s words were spoken with such power and command that Blackfur

immediately stopped his assault on Cutter and called for Greytooth.

“Greytooth, I sense a powerful presence of good in the treeline ahead of us,” informed

Blackfur, keeping the fact of Maruk’s involvement to himself.  “I need you to use your magic to see

if you can locate that source.”

“Yes, my king,” the shaman said while he pulled a bleached bone wand from the pouch at

his side and began to chant.

The companions had watched the spectacle in silence until Blackfur had drawn the great

double-bladed axe from the harness on his back.

Ox tapped Mellay on the shoulder and rapidly signed something to her.  Galen had been

slowly learning the hand language but wasn’t fluent enough yet to understand what Ox was

telling Mellay.  Whatever it was it must important by the way Ox’s eyes were bulging and the

speed at which he was moving his fingers.

“Ox says that the axe is a deminoc bladitoth -which means demon blade in your

language.  The deminoc bladitoth grants the wielder terrible powers from the demon that resides

in the weapon.  In the Mol’ tan only the chosen favorites of Nabuk are granted such a powerful

weapon.”  Explained Mellay, fear and awe etched on her face.  “They grant their wielder strength

from the souls of the victims it slays and also provides a form of invincibility.  I have fought

many horrible creatures during my stay in the arena and never backed down from a battle, but

that monster turns my blood to ice with fear.”

Galen had to agree with Mellay.  There was something dark and foreboding about the

black haired leader of the gorthins and his demonic axe.  When the Blood King waved the

flaming weapon towards their hiding place on the ridge, Galen felt the hairs on the back of his

neck rise and he would have sworn that the evil axe knew they were there.

“We have to get back to our horses right now,” commanded Olan in a forced whisper.

“What is it Uncle,” asked Galen when he saw that the color had all drained from Olan’s

face.  “What’s wrong?”

“They know we are here.  I felt a dark shadow, an evil presence that was searching for us.

I can only assume that the demon-bonded axe sensed my aura and warned the Blood King

through their telepathic bond.  Let’s get moving before they can send a patrol after us!”  The

shaken knight moved quickly back down through the woods, away from the valley with Mellay

and Ox close behind.

Galen returned his gaze back to the Blood King and was startled to see the gorthin leader

staring directly at him.  As they traded stares something passed between the two.  Galen sank to

his knees as a helplessness akin to an oily despair slid across his heart.  He felt weak but while he

dropped to his knees, the Blood King clutched his chest as if in extreme agony yet neither were

able to break their mental bond.

Something jerked Galen away from the ravine edge and he jolted as if awakening from a

dream.  He realized someone was talking to him, pleading with him to come with them.

“Come on Galen!  Olan says that we have to hurry before they send a patrol after us!”

Mellay tugged once again on Galen’s arm, pulling him away from the Blood King and breaking

their locked gazes.

“What happened?” Asked a puzzled Galen trying to stand on his weakened knees.  “I

remember looking back at the gorthin army one last time and then I saw their leader staring at

me.  Like his eyes were drilling into my soul.  I felt like a heavy burden was placed on my heart

and then you grabbed me and woke me from some kind of dark trance.  Maybe it was just my

mind playing tricks on me.”

“I don’t think it was your mind playing tricks on you, Galen.  I don’t know what

happened except when you dropped to your knees, the Blood King clutched his chest as if in

great pain.”  Offered Mellay while helping Galen to his feet.  “Can you walk?”

With the trance broken, the lethargy had left his body.  “I’m fine, Mellay.  Thank you.”

She took his hand in hers and the two of them raced back through the woods to their

makeshift camp.  Olan and Ox were already mounted and Ox was holding the reins of Galen and

Mellay’s horses.

“What happened?” Questioned Sir Olan.  “We were just getting ready to come look for

you two.”

“I’ll explain later Uncle.  Right now it would be best to get as much space between us and

the gorthins as possible.”

Sir Olan stared at Galen intently trying to decide if he should question his nephew now or

if an explanation of what had transgressed back at the valley could wait.  He decided to trust

Galen, and he turned Blade back down the overgrown path with due haste made for Stoneheart.

All attempts at stealth thrown to the wind as the four companions thundered across the frozen

ground.
 
*********************************

“My king are you well?” Asked the concerned Greytooth.  If something were to happen

to Blackfur the gorthin army would disband until a new king could be proclaimed and that would

displease Ahmah greatly.  From past failures of his own, Greytooth knew it wasn’t wise to

displease the mercurial demon-god.

“I’m fine shaman,” growled the angry Blackfur.  He turned to the hovering chiefs,

“Goldeneyes, send several of your Skylings after those humans.  It is imperative that they do not

reach their destination.  Have your scouts be wary there is an accursed Knight of the Cross with

them.  They must be taken alive, especially the young human male with brown hair and one of

those longbows the humans favor.  Do you understand chief?”

“Yes my king,” said Goldeneyes with a stiff bow.  “The Skylings will capture these weak
humans for you.”

The Skyling chief launched himself into the air and flew out to an area where his Skylings

were gathered.  The excited flyers gathered around their chief, anxious to hear what had

happened on the knoll.  A couple of scuffles broke out as warriors jostled to close to Goldeneyes,

but a sharp reprimand brought all their bickering to an end.

“My warriors, the Blood King has given the Skylings the honor of catching the human

spies that were hiding on the western rise.  I need ten volunteers to go after the spies and bring

the human male with brown hair back to the king.  We can kill the rest.”  Stated Goldeneyes with

pride.  The eager Skylings all tried to catch their chief’s attention to volunteer for such an

important mission.  Goldeneyes smiled a toothy grin full of pride at his warriors’ bravado.

“Before I chose who will go I want to tell you that this will be no easy task.  The humans are led

by a Knight of Everwatch.”

If the Skylings were deterred from volunteering by the news of the knight’s presence they

didn’t let it show to their chief and to a one demanded to be chosen.

“Good.  Swiftwing, you will lead Redmane, Talon, Razok, and Broken Fang.  Graywing

will lead Wurmtooth, Bent Wing, Windbreaker, and Dwarf Killer.  Swiftwing, you will lead your

forces south of the area where the humans slipped back into the forest and Graywing will lead

his forces to the north.  Fly a crisscrossing pattern between your two parties that should yield our

intended prey.  Understood?”

The two brothers nodded in understanding and after gathering their force members they

flew off into the dark starless sky.  The remaining Skylings cheered their brethren while the

Warmuhs, jealous of the Skylings being chosen for the important mission, catcalled at the

departing winged fighters which made the remaining Skylings cheer even harder.

For over two hours the two Skyling hunting parties crisscrossed the countryside looking

for sign of the fleeing humans.  Swiftwing and his party had flown over the village of

Roughstock and other than Redmane nearly being knocked from the air by the arrows of the

village sentries, saw nothing of importance.  Swiftwing was about to order his group to backtrack

thinking the tricky humans might have went to ground and let the gorthins pass by when Dwarf

Killer flew up panting from exertion.

“We have found them.  Three human males and a human female riding horses two

leagues from here and heading due west.  Your brother sent me to find you and your group to aid

in the taking of the human male. Graywing also said to tell you that two of the humans are

Nabukians.”  Panted the stocky flyer, the necklace of dwarven shrunken heads that had given the

Skyling his name heaved on his chest as he sucked in great gulps of air.

Swiftwing smiled at his brother’s cleverness at sending the violent Dwarf Killer to find

the other hunting group.  If Graywing had sent one of the others instead the battle hungry Skyling

would have attacked the humans by himself and possible ruined the chances of capturing the

humans.

“I will take my hunting party to join my brother, but the idea of the Nabukians being with

the knight puzzles me.  Were they prisoners of the knight?”  Asked Swiftwing as he thoughtfully

picked at a fat tick lodged behind his right ear.

“It did not appear to be.  All four seemed to be racing to reach the village, Stoneheart

several leagues away.  Nor did they appear to have any kind of restraints on them.  It was your

brother’s opinion that they are working together.”

“Graywing will definitely need our aid if those dark warriors are in league with the knight.

Redmane, Broken Fang, Razok, come with me.  My brother has found the humans.  We must

hurry.  The humans are on horseback, but if we fly as fast as we can then we will catch them.  We      

will make up the distance as we fly over the hilly countryside as they will have to follow the

land.  Talon, stay with Dwarf Killer and when he has regained his breath join us.  Right now he

would not be able to keep up.”  Ordered Swiftwing.

Talon began to argue with his superior but a fierce look from the veteran hunt leader

silenced the young warrior.  Eager to catch the humans but knowing Swiftwing was right, Dwarf

Killer dipped his head in acquiesce.

“Let’s go hunting,” grinned Swiftwing launching himself into the air and unfolded his

wide leathery wings.  With two powerful flaps he was off into the starless night.  Behind him, the

three Skylings spread their wings and with a howl of excitement followed the hunt leader after

the humans.

“I would’ve kept up,” growled Dwarf Killer as his clawed feet tore at the ground in

frustration.

“Humph,” snorted the nettled Talon while he two watched his departing comrades with

longing and a caress of the long bladed knife that hung from his belt.

Snow covered ground raced beneath them as Dwarf Killer and Talon sped to join the

others.  An arrow shot below them their prey thundered across the frozen ground, momentarily

disappearing from view as thick fir trees hid them from the watchers above.  Moments earlier an

excited Redmane had found the two gorthins flying at leisurely pace behind the others, and had

given them orders to push the humans into an ambush the Skylings had set up ahead where two

rocks formed a natural arch over the path.

Talon’s keen eyesight could see the distant rock formation and the huddled forms of

several Skylings as they lay in wait for the humans to pass through the arch.  The remaining

gorthins would be waiting just past the arch on either side of the path to finish pulling the

humans from their mounts after the Skylings on the arch had dropped onto the passing prey.  It

was a plan that the two brothers had used often before with much success.  Talon’s feral face split

into a wide grin in anticipation of capturing the weak, unsuspecting humans.

Below them their prey had emerged from the firs and was racing, unwittingly towards the

waiting ambush.  Talon drew his knife and pointed it towards the fleeing prey.  Dwarf Killer slid

the fang-bladed axe from its frog and with a crazed grin to Talon dove at the backs of the racing

humans.

The hair rose on Galen’s neck as he rode low over Mercury’s muscular neck, urging the

spirited horse on.  Daring a look back over his shoulder Galen was overwhelmed with a sense of

Deja vu.  Two Skylings were hurtling from the sky straight for them.  The lead gorthin wielding a

strangely curved axe let out a roar of triumph when he spotted Galen.

“They’ve found us!” Warned Galen over the rushing wind and smoothly drawing his

father’s old sword.  The weapon brought a surge of confidence to the young man and he slowed

Mercury to battle their pursuers.

“Keep going!”  Ordered Sir Olan, but he too drew his sword and spared a glance for the

closing Skylings.  “We have to reach Stoneheart!”

With the grace and agility of a cat, Mellay reversed her seating and faced Dwarf Killer

who was less than twenty paces away and with each flap of his wings was eating up the distance

between them.  Using her legs to guide Dahknee and keep her balance, Mellay removed the short

horn bow from its holster and notched an arrow.  In less than the blink of an eye she sighted

down the smooth shaft, released the bow and notched a second arrow that quickly sped after its

predecessor.  Both of the deadly projectiles hit their mark and Dwarf Killer crashed to the

ground, an arrow in each eye.

Respectful of the nabukian woman’s bow, Talon began to zig zag across the path

preventing Mellay from getting a good shot.  Passing over Dwarf Killer’s corpse he pulled the

axe from the dead scout’s hands in mid-flight.

“I think I can put this to better use than you,” he offered in way of an apology to the

fallen gorthin.  With a burst of speed Talon drew abreast of Mellay and made a wide swing with

the axe towards her head.

Instinctively Mellay ducked only to realize to late that the axe was a feint and that the

gorthin’s knife was curving towards her neck and she couldn’t deflect the blade in time.

Regretting that she had just found happiness and wishing that her life had been different, Mellay

prepared to die.

There was a rush of green and brown as a large object collided with the Skyling forcing

Talon to a rough, rolling stop.  Galen was the first to regain his feet and drew his hunting knife to

replace the sword that had been lost in the collision.

Shaking his shaggy head to remove the cobwebs, Talon watched as the two humans in

front of him merged into the brown haired youth his king had sent them after.  Anger at the loss

of tasting the beautiful Nabukian’s blood was dampened with the prospect of capturing the human

male for Blackfur.

Drawing his own blade as he stood, Talon taunted the youth, “You think you saved your

wench, boy, but you’ve only delayed the inevitable.  You are surrounded and after we have

captured you and your friends I will make you watch as I have my way with your bitch.  Oh no,

pitiful human, you haven’t saved anyone and only insured her death to be slow and painful.”

Galen knew in his mind that the beast was only trying to goad him into making a mistake,

but his heart nearly burst at the thought of the tortures Mellay might go through at the hands of

these monsters.  Fury flowed through his veins as he charged the waiting Skyling.

“I think not!” Galen roared as he drove his shoulders into the taller gorthin.

The fury of the human caught Talon be surprise as he was knocked from his feet by the

enraged man.  There was an audible crack as two ribs broke when he and Galen slammed into the

ground for the second time, but this time Talon was ready, and grunting through the pain,

continued the roll vaulting Galen through the air to land on his back with an audible explosion of

air rushing from his lungs.  Stunned, Galen tried to regain his feet but found them uncooperative

to his commands.

Wincing as he regained his footing, Talon snarled past his pain while he jerked Galen

from the ground and held his knife to the young man’s throat.

“You’re lucky the Blood King wants you alive,” Snarled Talon, his muzzle inches from

Galen’s own face. The hot fetid breath of the gorthin nearly causing Galen to gag.  “That will

close enough, wench.  Drop your bow or your lover loses an arm.  The king didn’t say he had to

be whole.  Just alive.”

Hesitating only a moment before she lowered her bow, Mellay gave the gorthin a

challenging, toothy smile.

“Surely a mighty gorthin warrior like you isn’t afraid of a weak human female like me?”

Mellay mocked, spreading her hands wide to emphasize her much smaller body.

Torn between his duty to the blood king and responding to the Nabukian’s insult Talon

fought an inner battle that pride emerged victorious over loyalty.  Shoving Galen roughly to the

ground Talon launched himself knife first at the taunting woman.

Mellay smiled to herself at the predictability of the stupid gorthin as he recklessly

charged her.  Calmly she waited until the tip of the gorthin’s knife was less than an arm’s length

away.  Suddenly the agile Mellay propelled herself straight up into the air and snapped her legs

out to the side so the gorthin charged harmlessly beneath her.  Talon let out a grunt of surprise

that turned into a pain filled howl as Mellay drove the pommels of her twin short swords into the

base of his vulnerable skull.  The gorthin crumbled into a heap at Mellay’s feet.

“How many times are you going to rescue me where I end up saving your hide,” teased

Mellay playfully.

Mellay’s well-intentioned teasing stung the proud Galen who hid the blush of

embarrassment by keeping his eyes pointed at the ground as he searched for his fallen sword.

Sensing that she had hurt Galen’s feelings, but unsure of how to ease the sting of her words,

Mellay turned from Galen to warn the others of the attack.

“Ox, Sir Olan, the gorthins attacked us but Galen and I defeated their assault!” She

yelled.  “We’re fine but we lost our ....”

Mellay watched in horror as several gorthins materialized from the shadows to envelop

Ox   and Sir Olan who had heard Galen’s warning and were heading back to help their comrades.

Her heart pounded loud in her chest as took off towards the swirling mass of dark fur, shining

metal, and grunts of pain at a run.  She had nearly reached the battle when Galen, with his longer

legs, raced past.

“Keep calm this time,” Galen coached himself.  “Let your emotions go and focus.”  He

took in two deep breaths and thought only of the battle, his blade, and of the gorthins in front of

him.  Instantly Galen could see more clearly and everything seemed to move more slowly.

A roar of battle lust escaped his lips as he neared the closest Skyling.  A look of surprise

slipped across the doomed creatures face seconds before Galen’s swing removed its head. He

continued into the fray without slowing.

“It’s him!” Shrieked a gray furred Skyling with black rings around his eyes.  “It's the

human that Blackfur wants!  Get him!  Get Him!”

The wall of gorthins parted and Galen could see that Sir Olan and Ox were alright.  None

of the gorthins had wanted to get close to either the shining blade of the knight or the deadly axe

of the gladiator.  He parried a lunging attack from a particularly mangy and bad smelling Skyling

that had blocked his path to the others and countered with a slice that would have disemboweled

the wiry gorthin if it had been second slower.

“Get him Windbreaker,” ordered raccoon face.  “Redmane, Razok stop messing with

those two and...”

Before the hunt leader could finish one of the maces that Ox carried on his harness

smashed Graywing’s face into jelly.  The Skyling closest to Ox thought he had an opening when

the giant nabukian threw a mace at Graywing.  Although focused on the leader, Ox caught

movement out of the corner of his eye and was just able to knock aside the spear thrust aimed at

his chest with the haft of his battleaxe.

The Skyling, whose only fang was nearly the length of Ox’s hand, feinted towards Ox’s

exposed thighs then with the speed of a striking serpent thrust for the gladiator’s head.  Fast as

Wurmtooth was he was still to slow to beat Ox’s pit-honed reflexes and the powerful fighter

grabbed the spear haft inches from his face.  With a grunt of exertion the heavily muscled warrior

lifted the stubborn gorthin from the ground by the spear shaft and flung him into a an

approaching Skyling.  Uncomfortable fighting from horseback, Ox slid from his saddle and

squared himself to the two Skylings as they regained their feet.

Sweating from a combination of tension from the battle and body heat Galen readjusted

his grip on the slick feeling sword.  His opponent was proving to be a skilled fighter and so far

neither one had been able to land a fatal wound.  Galen saw Windbreaker’s eyes briefly focus on

something behind him and the gorthin gave a slight nod of his head.  Galen knew someone was

behind him the small hairs of his neck were tingling.  The young man went on the offense to

push the smelly gorthin back and put some space between him and the enemy at his back.  Using

a routine that Ox had taught him, Galen swung the blade in a horizontal figure eight followed

with a slice aimed for the gorthin’s head.  Windbreaker blocked the swashbuckling slices and

ducked the swing aimed at his head, and he couldn’t believe his luck when the human over

swung and spun himself around, facing away from Windbreaker.

Not to pass up an opportunity, Windbreaker moved to wrap his arms around the human

and hold him until the others could help bind the man.  He realized his mistake too late as Galen

reversed his grip on the hilt and thrust the blade straight back to impale Windbreaker through the

chest.  His knife fell from suddenly numb fingers as Galen tore the blade from his chest and

Windbreaker staggered away from the deadly young man and fell face first into the snow.
Galen had little time to enjoy his victory over the Skyling.  Two more Skylings were

threatening to wrap him in a net made from rawhide strips.  With nowhere to go Galen did the

only thing he could and swung his sword at the net as it surrounded him.  There was a brief

moment of panic as the net held against the sword, but then there was a loud ripping sound as the

net gave way to the razor sharp edge of the sword.

Both of the gorthins lost their balance went the net split in half and the one to Galen’s left

stumbled on a rock hidden by the snow and fell, stunned, to the ground.  Galen closed quickly on

the prone gorthin and plunged his sword into the red haired gorthin’s chest.  Red Mane clutched

the blade protruding from body with a growl of defiance even as the light of life seeped from his

yellow, cat-like eyes.  Galen tried to pull his sword free from the gorthin’s death grip but the

Skyling wouldn’t relinquish the blade.

“Damn!”  Galen swore as he fruitlessly continued tried to remove his sword.  The crunch

of snow alerted Galen that the other gorthin was nearly on top of him.  Letting go of the sword

Galen somersaulted over the dead Skylings body kicking up snow that momentarily blinded the

approaching Skyling and put some distance between him and the beast.

“I’m going to make you bleed, human,” snarled the Skyling waving his curved dagger

menacingly at Galen.  “Goldeneyes said you were to taken alive but that doesn’t mean I can’t

have a little fun first.”

Galen frantically searched the ground around him for something he could use as a

weapon while the Skyling stalked closer.  Galen let out a cry of triumph as his fingers closed

around a shaft of wood and picked up the fallen gorthin’s spear.  Regaining his feet just in time to

face a series of slashing attacks, Galen used the spear like a staff to block the vicious wild

swings.

Going on the offensive Galen struck first with one end of the spear and then the other

keeping the gorthin off balance but not connecting for a solid hit.  Galen then swung the butt end

low in wide arc that took the Skyling’s feet from underneath him.  Spinning the spear so it was

blade down, Galen tried to impale his foe, but the wily Skyling had anticipated Galen’s attack and

had already rolled away.

Razok kicked at the human’s stolen spear as it plummeted towards the ground and nearly

knocked it free from Galen’s hands as the weapon flew harmlessly wide.  Grasping at Galen’s

sudden vulnerability, Razok bound to his feet and moved to hamstring the human.  The Skyling

scout realized his mistake as Galen guided the arching spear behind his back and grasping the

spear close to the blade with his left hand, sidestepped Razok’s slash, and drove the blade deep

into the base of the gorthins skull as it stumbled past.

Breathing heavily, Galen withdrew the blood slicked spear and searched for more

enemies to battle.  With none close by he wrenched his sword free from the gorthin’s corpse with

a snap of broken bone and a wet pop.

Ox studied the two gorthins as the tried to encircle the wary warrior.  The long-toothed

one he had thrown had managed to hold onto his spear and was making halfhearted stabs to

keep Ox’s attention while his partner, a black furred beast with a wing that seemed slightly

askew to the other, was trying to get behind him to sink his twin curved daggers into his back.

After fighting all kinds of creatures, natural and demonic, these snarling oversized dogs with

wings held little fear for Ox and instead of letting the gorthins lead the dance he made the first

move.
Ox feinted a lunge at Wurmtooth with the spike on top of his battle axe and in mid thrust

swung the twin bladed axe behind him at Bent Wing who was leaping forward to bury his

daggers into Ox’s broad back.  The battle-wise fighter had expected the gorthin to attack his

imaginary weakness and his powerful swipe tore through the Skylings meager attempt to block

the death dealing blow.  Bent Wing’s daggers shattered from the force of the blow and the blade

tore him open from shoulder to hip.  He stared at the two stumps in his hands while his life

drained away and he fell backwards into the powdery snow.

Knowing his opponent was dead or soon would be, Ox turned his attention back to

Wurmtooth.  Having no fear of death and preferring to die by combat over old age, the berserk

Skyling assaulted Ox with a storm of wild strikes and bitter curses hoping to gain a lucky strike

and injure the Nabukian juggernaut.  Ox weathered the wild attacks and other than the original

scratch escaped unscathed.  Panting from exertion, Wurmtooth tried to raise his spear to block

the giant warrior’s descending axe, but he was a spilt second to slow and his vision exploded in

brilliant flash of light as Ox’s single blow cleaved his thick skull in twine.

Ox wrenched his axe free from the dead gorthin and wiped the gore from the blade with

the Skyling’s shaggy fur. Taking a moment to catch his breath Ox then scanned the area to check

out their situation.  The last two Skylings were engaged with the knight, Mellay was circling the

trio trying to find an opening to shoot her bow without endangering Sir Olan, and Galen was

pulling his sword from a dead gorthin.  Scattered at the young man’s feet were the bodies of

three Skylings.  Ox let out a low whistle in appreciation of Galen’s fighting prowess and made his

way towards Olan to aid the knight with the remaining enemy.

The two gorthins and Sir Olan traded hits with no real damage being inflicted by either

side.  Olan had been worried about his nephew when the two gorthins he had been fighting had

broke off at the command of the hunt leader to capture Galen.  He had tried to get to Galen’s side

but the hunt leader and another Skyling had barred his path and the three of them had been

fighting since.  The knight had paid only part of his attention on fighting the gorthins and the

other part was keeping an eye on Galen’s fight.  When Galen dropped the last of his foes Olan

focused fully on dispatching his opponents.

The broken toothed gorthin to his left lunged at Olan’s head with his serrated spear tip.

The knight knocked the spear to the side with his shield and followed with a thrust of his silvery

sword that pierced Broken Fang’s throat.  The dying Skyling tried to call out but the only noise

he could make was a soft gurgle as his blood spilled from the torn throat.  Sir Olan spun away

from the Skyling as it fell to the ground and leveled his bloody weapon at the hunt leader who

had used the death of his companion to cover his stealthy approach behind the knight.

Swiftwing glared at the knight as he sat astride his white horse.  His brother was dead, the

hunt party destroyed, and they had failed to capture the humans for the Blood King.  He knew

what would happen if he returned to his merciless king and decided it was better to die here than

at the hands of Greytooth’s torturous claws as a sacrifice to the god, Ahmah.

“You may have defeated us now knight, but an army of Ahmah’s faithful storms across

the northlands and you and your four companions will not stop it.  We will reach Stoneheart and

free our god from his prison and then you humans will be the ones in hiding!” He snarled

sending spittle flying.  

The fires of religious fervor blazed in Swiftwing’s eyes as he launched himself through

the air, claws extended to wrap around the knight’s throat, “For Ahmah!”

Blade reared back on his hind legs and as the hunt leader closed into striking distance

dropped his steel shod hooves into the Skyling’s body, driving it to the ground and crushing the

life from the broken body.

With a passing glance to make sure the gorthin was dead Sir Olan checked on the party.

“Everyone okay?”

Galen and Mellay both answered a subdued “Yes”, while Ox nodded his head.

“Good. We need to get moving. I’m not sure why the gorthins are interested in you Galen

but I’m sure it won’t be pleasant for you.”

They gathered the horses and were mounting up when Olan overheard Galen and Mellay

arguing.

“You need to tell him, Galen.”

“It was nothing, Mellay.  We just happened to lock eyes, that’s all.”

“Tell me what?”  Asked Olan.  “Did something happen back on the ridge Galen?”

Galen hesitated for a moment while casting Mellay a withering look that she stoically

took with her owns crossed beneath her breasts and returned it with look of her own.

“It was nothing Uncle.  The blood King and I seemed to lock gazes for a moment and it

seemed to have an effect on both of us.  Until Mellay pulled me away I felt as if I was drowning

in sorrow and hopelessness.  I’m sure it was just my mind playing tricks on me.  I’m okay now.”

“Maybe, but let’s get a move on just in case.” replied Olan.  “But more likely there’s

something in store for you nephew, something great and the Blood King sensed it.” The knight

added to himself as the group began their ride back to Stoneheart.  The wise knight thought of his

brother’s dream, their family’s bloodline, the encounter with the Blood King, and the young

man’s unnatural combat prowess that normally takes years to develop, and pleasant thought

began to spill into the farthest reaches of his mind.  “Do I dare hope I have found him?”  Not for

the first time Olan studied his remarkable nephew as they rode.

From the spot where he had played dead while the terrible humans had slaughtered his

comrades, Talon rose to his feet, massaging the lump the nabukian woman had gave him.

“I thought those dark-skinned devils were supposed to be our allies,” he whined as the

lump lanced pain into his throbbing head.  “I must warn the king that we failed.”

The loyal Talon rose into the air and shot straight as an arrow for the village of

Roughstock and the dawning sun.


To be continued in a few days...