Dragondoom

CHAPTER 13

Late Summer, 3E1602

[The Present]

Leaving the slain Drōkha, Elyn and Thork fared easterly, into the rising Moon. A hostile truce stretched taut across the uneasy silence between them. Through the night they rode as the argent orb sailed up and across the crystal sphere. Yet now and again Elyn would feel the hair rise at the nape of her neck, as if some unseen evil glared at her. In these moments she would glance at Thork to find the Dwarf peering into the dark shadows Moon-streaming from rock, tree, bush, and thicket, his eyes seeking hidden enemies. But none were there. Even so, the vigilance of the twain did not lessen.

Slowly they fetched east, grey horse and dappled pony, bearing their burdens toward the distant borders of Aralan. At times a freshette would cross their path, and they would all drink of the clear water and rest a while, the two riders feeding small amounts of grain to their steeds, taking care of other needs as well. At other times dark hillocks loomed up before them, and they would swing wide to pass them by, for shadowy hillocks could conceal waiting foe.

At last the sky began to lighten, false dawn before them. And the two began to consider where they might camp and rest. But three more hours passed and the Sun was fully risen ere they found a suitable site: a low grassy knoll ’neath a lone shade tree near a stream slowly meandering across an open flat where ambuscades were unlikely.

“This time I will take the first watch, Dwarf,” said Elyn, as they tended to the needs of their mounts. “And though I am weary”-she glanced at the position of the Sun-“let us stand six and six, for I would rather sleep but once, instead of twice, though Adon knows I could stay aslumber the full day. And I will hunt close by once more during my ward, for I am in want of food.”

Thork merely grunted his assent, as he rubbed down his spotted steed.

Finally, the two carried their saddles and other goods up to the campsite, where, shrugging out of his armor, Thork cast himself upon his bedroll and was instantly asleep.

Again Elyn bathed in the stream and cared for her wounds, still tender, some raw, treating these with small amounts of salve and dressing them with fresh bandages, washing out the old. Then she took up her sling and bow and arrows and, treading with a slight limp, walked out upon the grassland, coming at last to an area raddled with burrow holes. Within the hour she had bagged seven fat prairie marmots. Leaving the warren behind, she gutted and cleaned the game, setting five to roast upon green-branch skewers over a small fire on the downwind side of the camp. When at last they were done, Elyn suspended four of them by their spits from the overhead tree branches; the other one she hungrily devoured.

Finishing her meal, Elyn washed in the stream and took a deep drink of the clear water, and then sat in the warm Sun, watching the breeze blow gently through the endless grass as she kept a careful lookout upon the plain. And high overhead a predator circled, catching Elyn’s eye, a red hawk on the wing. And the Warrior Maiden watched its questing pattern, her mind casting back to better days. And the hawk stooped, folding its wings and hurtling downward, plummeting toward unseen prey hidden from Elyn’s sight in the tall grass. Hai, Redwing, go! she silently urged, calling her own favorite bird to mind. And just ere plunging into the earth, the hawk flicked its wings outward, correcting its course, then hurtled into the grass beyond seeing. Elyn found that she was on her feet, but she could not recall standing up. Shading her eyes, long she gazed at the point where hunter had disappeared; and after silent while, the bird reappeared, wings hammering upward, slain coney clutched in its talons. As always, Elyn felt regret for the victim, while at the same time admiring the victor. And as the red hawk coursed northward, a thought came unbidden into her mind: What unseen stalker preys upon us, I wonder?

As her watch drew to an end, Elyn added to the fire and set the remaining two marmots to roast, and then awakened the Dwarf.

No sooner did her head touch her bedroll, it seemed, than Thork was shaking her awake. “Attack?” she hoarsely whispered, startling upward.

“Nay, Woman,” growled Thork, “but yon Sun sets.”

Elyn groaned, for how could it be that her rest was over when she had just lain down? Groggily, she accepted the cup of tea handed her, its bracing taste pressing back the web of her fatigue. Thork passed her some of the cooked meat he had stripped from the bones of her kill, wrapping the remainder in a cloth where it would keep for a day or so.

As twilight fell upon the land, they ate in silence, sipping tea, their eyes scanning the grasslands. At last in the dusk they broke camp and saddled their steeds, preparing to set forth again. They both accepted that they would travel easterly together one more night, though neither wished it so. “This is the last we fare in each other’s company, Dwarf,” said Elyn. “And though we have fought side by each to slay the common foe, I will be glad to travel alone once more.”

“I would be rid of you as well, Woman,” responded Thork, “for it is not my wish to be allied to a Rider.”

At these words, Elyn’s eyes flashed hotly, and she gritted her teeth, yet she held back her retort, knowing that this nighttide would be the last-tomorrow she would shed this. . this cave dweller.

Again they set out as the land fell unto darkness, soon relieved by the rising Moon, now full to brimming, a great yellow orb that seemed to fill the whole horizon. And stars sprinkled the dark vault, adding their crystal glister to the night. An hour went by, and then another, and the Moon rode upward as they rode eastward, the orb seeming to grow smaller as up it sailed, becoming brighter as it climbed, changing from yellow to argent, its silvery light glancing across the land, vivid enough to see far and near. And within this platinum luminance, two warriors fared together, Châk and Vanadurin, soft radiance streaming all about them, and a quiet peace came to rest gently upon the twain.

Another hour receded into the past, and they stopped at a stream to take on water and refresh themselves, as well as to feed grain to the steeds. It was while they were standing thus that again a shiver of evil walked upon spider claws along their spines, and hastily Elyn and Thork mounted up, their eyes scanning the moonlit prairie, both standing in their stirrups to gain a better view.

“There,” hissed Thork, pointing to the south and east.

Elyn stared intently in the direction indicated. “I. . I cannot see aught. . No, wait. Now I see it. A blot of darkness moving across the plain. Though what it is, I cannot say.”

“Châk eyes see better through dimness,” responded the Dwarf. “It is some force, afoot, twenty or thirty, I deem, and they move as if to intercept our course ahead.”

“Then let us ride, Dwarf, let us ride.” Elyn dropped into her saddle, touching her heels to Wind’s flanks, the grey springing forward, Thork’s dappled following after.

Swiftly they rode eastward, the horse at a canter, the pony at a gallop, the smaller mount now in the lead and setting the pace for the larger.

Thork kept his eyes upon the nearing force. “They have broken into a run,” he called to Elyn, “and seek to cut us off. Kruk! It is the Foul Folk, Ukh and Hrōk alike!”

But now in the fulgent light of the Moon, Elyn’s eyes could see the foe, loping ’cross the grassland, dull glints gleaming from their weaponry, or mayhap from their armor. “Angle leftward, Dwarf,” she cried, judging their speed, “and they’ll not e’en get within bow shot.”

Thork veered to the north and east, the little dappled racing at his uttermost, Elyn on Wind following after.

Now the Wrg set up ululating howls, breaking from a loping gait to a full-throated run, the taller Drōkha outdistancing the shorter Rutch as they sought to close the gap ere the twain were past.

And amid the wrauling, Elyn could hear the clatter of Rutchen armor and the pounding of iron-shod Wrg feet upon the earth-they were so near-racing to cut them off and haul down the two of them.

But the swift little pony was not to be headed, and the duo hammered through the intercept point just a hairs-breadth ere the first foe came to it; and as the pair dashed beyond, black-shafted arrows did siss upon their heels, most to fall short, albeit one or two stabbed into the ground ahead. But horse and horseling ran onward, leaving the enemy behind, and only yawls of frustrated rage overtook the riders.

Once they had passed well beyond the range of Wrg arrow, Elyn and Thork slowed their mounts to a steady trot, allowing the steeds to catch their wind and recover from their dash to freedom. Each looked back, gauging whether pursuit drew near.

“They mill about,” rasped Thork, “as if undecided as to what to do. Regardless, they follow not. . at least for now.”

“I think perhaps something evil is after one of us”-Elyn’s voice was grim-“why I cannot say. Yet for three nights running we have been attacked.”

“I was about to say the same,” Thork responded, “yet this I know, Woman: I was not attacked ere you came.”

“So you blame me,” flared Elyn. “Heed me, Dwarf, I rode in peace until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

A chill silence fell between the two as easterly they fared. And none said aught for a lengthy while. At last Thork cleared his throat. “Why, Woman, did you not ride on ahead when the Grg sought to cut our track? Your steed can easily outstrip mine. You could have passed beyond ere they made half the distance.”

Elyn’s answer was a long time coming: “Mistake me not, for I wish no partnership. But list, even though you be a Dwarf, I made a compact with you, unspoken to be sure, but a compact still. And that was to ride a ways together, should we meet a common foe. Then we did meet such a foe, and I would not desert my word, though what you said be true: Wind can run as her namesake, and we could have fled past ere the enemy came nigh, but there would be no honor in that.”

At the mention of honor, Thork looked long and hard at the Warrior Maiden as pony and horse drew steadily eastward, yet he said nought in return. At last he turned his gaze away from her countenance, and there was a dark brooding upon his brow.

Again they rode long in silence, and once more it was Thork who at last broke it. “Warrior, I deem you right in that evil dogs our heels. And I would be rid of this thing that seeks to cut our wake. Let us ride through tomorrow day as well; perhaps we can shake it off our track. For evil shuns the Sun, and mayhap it will lose our line in the brightness of Adon’s light.”

“Ah me,” sighed Elyn, “already I am weary, and now you propose that we become more weary still. Yet I, too, would shake this vileness. But it pursues us in a manner I cannot fathom, and may find us in the darkness still, regardless of what we do. Yet I have no better plan than yours, for we must try to throw it from us; perhaps a trek through the Sun will do so.

“But heed: we will have to walk much of the time; the steeds cannot bear us forever, and must at times be unburdened. Had you a horse, then we could take up the varying pace of a Jordreich long-ride, and we would place much ground ’tween us and any pursuit. Yet you have not, and so we will do the next best thing: I will step Wind at what I deem is the gait of a pony long-ride. Beyond that, we will at times walk, at other times pause and rest. Would that we had remounts, but we do not, and so it is afoot for us as well.”

Sunrise found Elyn and Thork leading their steeds across the grassy plain; they had not been attacked again that night, although each had felt the unseen eyes of the malevolent force peering through the dark. True to her word, Elyn had been pacing their eastward trek to put as much distance behind them as she deemed prudent, while at the same time preserving the strength of the steeds as well as that of the riders.

And so they walked as the Sun slid above the horizon, both still limping slightly from the wounds received three nights past while in the Khalian Mire. At last they came upon a bubbling stream. “Here we rest an hour. I will sleep while you watch. Next will be your turn.” Elyn lay down in the grass and was instantly aslumber.

All day they traded off, riding, walking, resting, ever faring eastward. Small portions of grain were fed to the mounts, while the two riders ate the remainder of the marmot meat. Water was plentiful, for occasional streams crossed their path, flowing down from the distant chain of tors to the left, to the north, foothills of the Grimwall far beyond. As to additional food now that the meat was gone, each rider had rations of crue, a tasteless but nutritious waybread common upon Mithgar; thus, sustenance for the warriors was not now a concern. But Elyn pointed out that the mounts could not last forever on the meager rations they were getting. Horses and horselings on a journey need much grass and grain to sustain them, as well as water; yet short rations for the steeds would not become a factor until one or two morrows hence, though afterward they would need time to recover.

Still, eastward they fared throughout the day as the Sun rode up and overhead and down, and protected them from the Foul Folk. But nothing warded them from the weariness that crept throughout their bones. For their trek was unremitting, even though they rested one hour in four.

There came a time when they stopped at a stream where Elyn treated her still raw wounds; and so too did Thork tend his. And Elyn passed her white healing salve to the Dwarf, and lo! received a dark salve in return.

And as Thork stripped his jerkin and squatted by the water, washing his arms and chest, how like iron knots seemed his muscles, and leather cords seemed his thews.

At last the Sun fell below the horizon, and darkness crept upon the land. Now would they see if their long journey into night had shaken off the vileness, the day chasing it from their track to be lost.

And in the twilight distance far before them they could see the dark face of a forest. It was the Skög, the woodland lying on the border between Aralan and Kath. They had indeed come far in their long-ride.

On they pressed, an hour or more, drawing nigh the now black timberland.

“I deem we must rest ere we enter yon woods,” growled Thork, “for we know not what awaits us within.”

“Then let us not ride therein until the bright Moon rises to shed its light down among the trees,” suggested Elyn; and Thork grunted his assent.

And so they dismounted, making one last stop before plunging into the unknown.

Elyn rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I will never get used to sleeping during the day, and living my life at night.”

“I catch your meaning, Warrior,” responded Thork. “Within a Châkkaholt, the day visits only through stone windowshafts, and mayhap a gate or two; still we keep time by the Sun, ordering our lives to its movement.”

Elyn shifted uneasily at this mention of the living habits of Dwarves, yet she said nought, and Thork did not continue.

Long they rested, horse and pony cropping rich grass, and at last the Moon rose. “Let us wait a bit, say, a half candlemark or so,” suggested Elyn, “then will the moonlight shine down into the wood.” Thork’s silence noted his assent.

And so they waited as the Moon crept upward, until at last Thork stood and Elyn followed, and they stepped toward their steeds.

Of a sudden, Wind snorted, pulling back upon her tether, eyes rolling in terror. Thork’s pony, too, danced hindward in fear, squealing in panic. And in that very moment, evil skittered o’er the minds of Dwarf and Warrior Maid.

And they heard a strange rending of the ground.

“Aie!” cried Thork. “To the south! The earth! The very earth!”

And flowing at them like a huge dark wedge came a buckling heave of the ground, as if a great long something, massive and evil, was hurtling at them beneath the soil, some monster under the earth rushing upon them.

“Fly!” cried Elyn, her voice hoarse with fear, her eyes wide in horror. And she cut the tether and leapt upon Wind, spurring toward the woods.

Thork astride the pony raced after, the horseling running in sheer panic.

And behind them the very surface of the world wrenched and tore, sod fracturing upward, thrust aside from below, the rending soil crying out in splitting agony, and still the heaving wedge surged after the fleeing twain, something hideous drawing closer and ever closer, leaving a long broken mound of tortured earth in its wake.

“Run, Wind, run!” cried Elyn, leaning forward over her saddle, urging the grey onward, glancing aback to see Thork falling behind, the pony racing at its uttermost, yet the thing under the soil closing in upon the fleeing horseling. “Rach!”

Hauling leftward hard upon the grey’s reins, the Warrior Maid raced in a great circle to come aflank the Dwarf, and both now fled but strides ahead of the erupting earth behind, the unseen thing overhauling its intended prey.

“Right! Bear right,” shrieked Elyn, “or we are both foredone!”

Thork sheered rightward, diverging from Elyn’s line, his pony running in full, as Elyn in turn hauled back upon Wind to fall behind, maintaining her straightward course, the speeding heave under the soil racing upon her track.

Close it came and closer, now nearly upon her. Elyn leaned forward in the saddle. “Now, Wind,” she cried, giving the grey free rein, “show this monster your heels!”

And Wind leapt forward with a burst of speed, but so too did the rending earth, and across the grassy plain they ran, flying steed and hidden pursuer, heading toward the nearing forest.

It was a race for life.

It was a race for death.

And Thork on his pony on a different track, ran for the wooded haven as well, no longer quarry of the hunter, no longer prey in a deadly game. ’Twas Elyn that had kept him from falling to an unknown fate, and his eyes sought to see her, and the thing upon her heels. “Ride, Warrior Maid, ride!” his voice jerked out ’tween gritted teeth. Then “Elwydd, shield her,” his prayer rose up, and in that moment his dappled steed hammered under the eaves of the darkling wood.

Swift he turned, now running northward, the agile pony dodging among the trees, guided by sure Dwarven hands, steered in the night by Dwarven sight. And through the trees shuttering by, he could see the desperate chase out upon the plains.

Now Elyn raced Wind in a great wide circle, the mare flying before the thing, the Warrior Maid seeking to gain ground by deft maneuvers, yet the gap did not appreciably widen. In a loop she ran, coming at last to the uptorn earth left in the wake of the pursuer, Wind hurdling the mound.

Doosh! the earth exploded upward as the thing crossed its own track, still upon the heels of this mare flying before it.

“To me, Warrior, to me!” cried Thork, riding into view.

And Elyn veered slightly, racing toward the place at the edge of the forest whence had come the call, and now her eyes saw the pony sidle-stepping in panic, held only by the strong hand of Thork.

And behind her, soil ripped upward, sod rending as something below rushed through the earth, driving to overtake the fleeing steed.

Thork turned the pony, spurring him forward as Elyn drew nigh, and together they plunged into the Skög, Dwarf leading, Warrior Maid following, twisting through the wood.

Yet behind them trees fell crashing, as the thing below came after, uprooting forest giants and saplings alike in its quest to kill. While before it fled the twain, now drawing ahead, Dwarven eyes and agile pony leading the way.

Steadily they left the pursuit behind, yet both knew that it still followed, the thing perhaps slowed by roots and rock, or mayhap now it could not as easily sense the whereabouts of its victims here among the trees. Even so, still the two did not slow their pace, for any number of things could cause them to come to grief: a ravine, a bluff, anything to block the way. Yet Thork was skilled in the lay of land, and followed an uphill route when choice was given. At last they came to a great granite outcropping, shield rock, scarred ages agone by the endless ice that then covered the north.

“This way,” rasped the Dwarf. “It is bedrock here in this high clearing.” And he led them out of the woods and onto the open knoll, steel-shod hooves of the steeds clattering upon the stone. They rode to the center and stopped.

“Dismount, Warrior,” grunted Thork. “Yet be prepared to ride. For I know not whether stone will stop that which follows.”

“What is it?” asked Elyn. “Know you what it be?”

“Nay, Warrior, I do not,” answered Thork, shaking his head. “No lore, no knowledge, no myth speaks of a thing that pursues under the soil. And to my mind, only the Utruni live deep within the earth, though tales tell that other things dwell deep within as well.”

“Utruni? Do you mean the Giants?” asked Elyn. “Could it be one of them that follows? I always thought them to be allies, at least in the Great War, or so I am told.”

“Aye, allies,” responded the Dwarf. “And you are right: they are not evil, the Utruni, the Stone Giants-this thing on our track cannot be one of them. Even so, still it splits the earth; let us hope that whatever it is, it will not be able to get at us upon this stone hillock.”

And off in the distance they could hear the rending of trees, the sounds drawing nearer.

To the east the Moon sailed serenely up the star-spangled night, its argent light glancing down upon the huddled four: Elyn, Thork, and two steeds. No notice did the silvery globe seem to take of the desperate drama unfolding below, and it shed its platinum radiance as always, as it had done since the world and Moon were made.

Elyn examined Wind, and then the pony, cooing softly as she did so, Thork listening to her gentle words. “What name you this stouthearted steed of yours?” she asked the Dwarf.

“Digger,” answered Thork after some hesitation, as if the naming of a pony somehow revealed a weakness.

“Well, Digger,” she said to the horseling, “you are weary, as are we all, and needs must rest; yet stand ready, for we may have to flee again, and without you and Thork leading the way, tcha, Wind and I would be in the clutches of that monster, if clutch it can.”

The sound of uptorn trees falling to ground caused the pony to shudder, yet Elyn’s voice seemed to calm it some.

At last the earth heaved and trees toppled at the very edge of the stone, first this way then that, as if the unseen thing quested for a scent, a track, but could find none. Elyn and Thork held tightly the reins of their steeds, keeping the animals calmed in the face of this vile hunt, the horse and horseling flinching and shying with each crashed-down tree. And still the earth swelled and split, wherever the seeker turned, the tortured sound of upthrust soil grating through the night. Once or twice the rock hillock trembled, as if it had been struck a heavy blow, perhaps blundered into by a leviathan creature, yet nothing came upon the stone to get at them. And in these moments Elyn reached out and tightly gripped Thork’s hand, seeking comfort from an honorable foe, giving comfort in return.

A long time passed, and the Moon rode up the sky, and still the earth hove and buckled; and once Elyn thought that she had seen hideous ropy things writhing up out of the ground among the trees, but when she called Thork’s attention to them, they were gone.

At last the thing turned and made its way from the Skög, timber falling in its wake.

They spent the night upon the shield-rock tor, taking turns dozing, taking turns at watch, for they knew not whether the thing had truly left them, or was merely laying a trap. And when the Sun rose at last to an overcast day, they girded themselves and mounted up, preparing to leave the protection of the stone hillock, preparing to venture out upon the soft earth.

“Follow me,” Thork said quietly, pacing the pony forward. And when they had come to the eastern edge of the shield rock, “Yah!” he cried, kicking Digger in the flanks, and the small steed sprang forth from the stone and onto the soil of the Skög, racing once more among the trees, Elyn and Wind chasing after.

They ran this way for some distance, and nothing pursued, the forest quiet. And so at last they slowed to a walk, saving their mounts, hoping to come across water and a place where they could camp.

Eventually at the foot of a hill they came upon a stream. As their steeds took on water, Elyn unlaced the waterskin from the cantle and squatted at streamside, uncorking and submerging the leather, a thoughtful look upon her face. She spoke at last: “Thork, it is clear that the evil which pursues us was not shaken off by our sunlight trek. I deem that these attacks are directed-Adon knows how-by some malevolence I cannot name, but nevertheless is real. Whether it seeks you or me or the both of us, I do not know. Yet this I do know: I would now be dead if it were not for you, and you can say the same. So I propose that we stay in each other’s company till our paths come to a natural parting, then will we go our separate ways; for the quest I am on is mine to do, and the road you follow, your own. Foes we are, yet we can be friendly, until it is time to become enemies again.”

Thork’s response was a long time coming. “You have travelled with me in honor. You have shared your food and skills. You have saved my life more than once, and I am in your debt. And at last you call me by my name.

“Would that I could call you friend, Elyn, and perhaps I will for a while, for in other circumstance, friends would we be. And you are right: the evil that dogs us is real, yet together we have managed to defeat it. I will ride in honor with you till our paths part.”

Elyn capped her waterskin and stood, and for the first time there was a smile on her face as she looked at Thork. “Then let us find a campsite, friend, for I am weary beyond reckoning. My bed of last night was rock hard, yet I did not wish to step from it for I think a monster lay ’neath.”

At these words, Thork burst out in laughter, shaking his head. “Monster under your bed indeed.”

This day in camp, neither stood watch, for they had decided that the evil came only in the darkness, and they were bone weary. They had found an open glade within the woodland, grown with clover for the steeds to crop, and had pitched camp there. Tethering horse and pony upon long ropes-Elyn using the line flung at her a time apast by Thork-the warriors had eaten a bit of crue, falling asleep thereafter.

Throughout the day they slumbered, now and again waking, though all was quiet, to fall asleep once more. Overhead the skies grew darker as the daytide waxed and then waned. Now the black clouds roiled above them-though, sleeping, they knew it not. Far off came a distant rumble, thunder from the approaching storm.

Elyn awoke when a droplet fell upon her resting cheek. She turned to waken Thork, for the skies were black, and wind stirred the trees; but a stab of lightning and a crash of thunder brought the Dwarf to his feet, his hands groping for his axe.

Elyn ran to the steeds, untethering each and leading them back to the campsite through the blowing flaw. Hastily the two broke camp, for evening was upon them. And they donned their oiled-leather rain-cloaks just in time, for the skies split open and water poured down in a blinding torrent.

Long they rode through the tempest, among the writhing wind-tossed trees, hard-driven icy rain hammering down. And all about them lightning smashed and thunder roared, and the steeds skitted and started with each rending crash.

At last Elyn urged her grey up beside Thork, and called out above the storm. “Shelter, Thork. We need shelter. The mounts cannot take this cold pounding any longer.”

And in the shattering illumination of lightning, Thork followed an uphill bent, coming to a shelter of sorts: an overhang in a hillside, the recess behind a small stand of pines. They crowded in under the lip above, and at last were out of the direct rain, though water blew inward with the gusting wind, wetting them still.

Lightning crashed down nearby, thunder slapping immediately; and the icy rain redoubled its hammering, the wind whipping the pines before their shelter. And Elyn and Thork, shivering, huddled together for warmth, wrapped about by a light tarpaulin taken from ’round Thork’s roll. And above the sound of the wind and the blinding rain came a crashing from the forest, and a rending of trees.

“The thing?” Elyn shed the tarp and leapt to her feet, swiftly drawing her saber from saddle scabbard upon Wind’s flank.

Thork, too, was afoot, axe near at hand, working the articulated lever ’tween string and stock of his crossbow, cocking it, then loading a red quarrel.

They peered out into the blackness, rain thundering down, an occasional flash of lightning starkly illuminating the dark woods. Elyn could see nought, but Thork pointed, yet at what, she could not at first say. Then came another flash, and a horrid great being stood among the trees: fourteen feet tall, like a giant Rutch, it seemed, but massive and brutish, and scaled with a greenish skin. Yet no Rutch was this; instead it was an Ogru, and it was snuffling the air, as if to catch the scent of a quarry.

The flash died, yet Elyn saw it in her mind’s eye still, recoiling from its image. Then Thork pointed again, and lo! the next flare revealed yet another Ogru, identical to the first. . hunting, snuffling, as well.

Thork drew Elyn back, and muttered in her ear: “Trolls. They seek us. Yet this storm thwarts them, for they cannot catch our scent or those of our steeds. May Elwydd send more rain hammering down. Make no noise, for they are a foe we cannot slay without the help of many. Muzzle your horse so it whinnies not, else we are lost.”

Elyn stepped to Wind and placed a calming hand upon the mare’s soft nose, cooing gentle words. Thork, too, held Digger’s muzzle, but if he spoke to the pony Elyn heard him not. And they listened to the crashing of timber above the driving tempest, as the questing Ogrus shouldered among the forest trees, snuffling yet finding nought but the scent of a drenched woodland, cupping a hand behind batwing ear but hearing only the deluge, staring with red glaring eyes but seeing only wind-whipped limbs lashing about in the blow.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed and the storm redoubled its fury again, and now the twain could hear nought but the whelming downpour. Whether the Ogrus drew near or far, they could not tell. And in the blackness Elyn had visions of one of those creatures rending aside the pines and an ugly face leering in upon their hiding place.

All night the rain hammered down, and morning found it falling still, though more gently. And even as the pair peered out from their hideaway in the blear light, the sky-fall softened yet again as clouds blew easterly.

Leaving the shelter, east they headed, travelling through the woods. And as they rode, the rain finally stopped, though all around them water dripped from the leaves.

Once again evil had come upon them, and once again they had avoided its clutch, though this time it was by mere happenstance. Much would they give to resolve who was the target of this malevolent pursuit, and why; yet even should they know, still would they travel together.

They came at last to another hillside where stood a better shelter, one with a deep overhang. Here they stopped for the day, for they needed rest.

A week later, Elyn and Thork splashed across a river into the forest named Wolfwood, a place where it is said that evil shuns. Here legend had it that beasts of the elden days once dwelled: High Eagles, Silver Wolves, Bears that once were Men, horned horses named Unicorn, and other things of ancient fable. Too, it is told that upon a time here dwelled a Mage. His name? It is not now known.

Regardless, these legends did not enter the minds of Elyn and Thork as they crossed the river, for they did not know the name of the wood they entered; and even if they had, still it would not have mattered, for behind them they could hear howls of another foe. . Whom? They did not know or care. All that mattered is that once again the hunt harried their track.

For the past seven nights running, they had been relentlessly pursued by the Foul Folk: Rutcha and Drōkha and Trolls, as well as some they could not name, came at them from the protection of the darkness, loosing arrows, hurling spears, closing in to do battle with club and cudgel, scimitar and tulwar, hammer and mallet, crushing weapons of spikes and chain, claws and teeth, and other means. The Woman and Dwarf at times had fought, at other times fled, seeking ways to escape the assaults; but always these or other Wrg managed to locate them, if not this night, then the next, and combat would eventually ensue.

More than once had Thork come to Elyn’s rescue, and more than once had she saved him. Both had been wounded, and Thork no longer could use his left arm, for Rutch arrow had pierced his shoulder through. Elyn’s broken ribs stole her breath, and she could not swing a saber as needed. And yet they struggled on.

Wind, too, had been scathed: pierced by arrow and bruised by cudgel; and Digger was slashed upon both flanks. Yet they bore their riders eastward, running when called upon though they were weary, going without food and water and rest as required, loyal to the end if need be.

And now they all splashed across the water, once more running for their very lives.

And into the Wolfwood they fled, dashing among the trees. Five miles or more they ran within the forest, coming at last to a small clearing, the center of which was a low knoll. And as they started across, a juddering howl came from behind them, long and drawn out, answered by a score or more.

Thork rode to the crown of the glade and stopped, dismounting, taking his hammer from the pony, slapping Digger upon the flank, crying, “Hai, Digger, run, boy, run!”

Elyn rode up behind, hauling Wind to a stop. “Thork?”

The Dwarf looked up at her, his eyes shining, his left arm useless. “Did you not hear, Elyn?” As if his words were a signal, again a juddering howl wrauled through the trees. “They are Vulgs, a foe we both cannot hope to escape. Yet you ride on, I will delay them, and perhaps you can evade them until the dawn. Now go!”

Instead, Elyn dismounted, grimacing from the pain of it. She took up her saber and sent Wind scaddling off after Digger. “Mayhap our steeds will survive, Thork.”

“Fool Woman.” Thork’s voice was strangely choked.

“Jackass Dwarf,” Elyn replied, placing her back to his. “This would be a song the bards would ever sing if they but knew.”

And back to back in the center of a clearing ’neath a quarter Moon, two wounded warriors stood and waited, their weapons at the ready.