Fireclaws - Search for the Golden (4 page)

My guards tossed me inside and slammed the door, leaving me to grimace and nod at my companions, neither of whom bothered to say anything in return. The hopeless look in their eyes spoke volumes. Finding a less uncomfortable spot along one side, of the bars, I gave my situation some thought.

I did tell the truth; the girl or woman in the tavern, whatever she was, did fascinate me. She appeared to be a simple local farm girl, fairly plain-featured, absolutely nothing remarkable about her whatsoever. That, in itself, I found interesting; her eyes held no coquettishness and she spoke concisely. Ryliss, if that was her real name, had a quicker wit than most of the locals I had met. The one time I coaxed a smile out of her, it was like a beam of moonlight cutting through a dark forest, pleasant and warming.

And then there was Andea’s unwavering assertion that I would meet a female stranger in the tavern who would be the only person we could trust to aid our escape. That alone told me there was much more to this Ryliss girl.

At least, my antics kept the demon stone away from her. I couldn’t allow us both to be captured and luck favored my actions, at least until the beatings started. I was watching her eyes when the wizard was casting about with his stone, and I saw definite worry there.

My mystery woman must be a wizard of some kind then; that was the only explanation. And if she’s powerful enough, it might mesh nicely with Andea’s vision. One thing was certain, the phrase, ‘If you seek the golden, you will help us,’ did seem to strike a chord with her, as I saw her lovely green eyes flash in alarm. What is a golden anyway? Greed for gold, I could understand, but my sister didn’t say gold, she said golden…

If only I could have had another couple of minutes to talk with her. And how did she know Verledn’s men were approaching? If only…it was the story of my life. If only I had come back from the war sooner. If only my parents hadn’t been killed by the Lifebane. If only I had been able to save Andea her pain…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ryliss

As soon as the last of the ruffians cleared the tavern’s outer door, I hopped up and slid over the bar, dropping to the ground silently. Slipping through the kitchen door and finding the back door still hanging wide open, I crept outside, advancing cautiously around the outside walls. I watched as they loaded Kerrik up into the cage, mounted their horses, and moved off. Once they were safely out of range, I walked around to the front of the tavern and watched their dust retreat in the direction of the dark lands. Old Bert lay dead along the outer wall of the inn, a shred of brigand’s clothing still locked in his jaws and an arrow through his great heart. He died defending his master; for him there was no better end possible. I kneeled and said a small prayer to the Earth Mother to accept his noble spirit.

Sighing, I slipped miserably into the deeper woods at the back of the tavern and well away from the road. I felt a large presence join me, padding silently at my side.

“Your mind is churning, what is it that disturbs you so?”
Naurakka questioned in my thoughts.

“I’m not sure. That whole incident with the bard was surreal, and it was like he was looking right through my glamor. And then the ‘golden’ reference; most curious, he seemed to be retelling the phrase like he didn’t understand its meaning either. “If you seek the golden, you will help us,” I repeated. “Help us implies more than one person. Also, the demon magic revealed him to be a strong wizard, according to the fire mage. Why would a wizard be playacting at being a bard in a scummy roadside tavern? And he also said he had been waiting all week for me to come in. I didn’t even know I was going to be anywhere near here until this morning, it doesn’t make any sense…”

“Find his companions…I will make them talk,”
Naurakka growled, a low vibrating sound.
“You have his scent?”

“Of course, I was sitting right next to him. At least we know he’s not a fire wizard, no stench. He actually smells better than he appears, so he has a concept of personal hygiene.”

The big cat made a sound like she was dealing with a hairball, and then chuffed humorously,
“You need a mate, my Mother.”

“Nonsense, now are you going to help me or not?”

“Two noses are better than one; we should circle the tavern until we find his trail,”
she lisped and watched in amusement as I made the change into a virtual replica of her.
“Much better…there are small, spotted pigs in these woods and I am hungry.”

“Find the trail first while your nose is sharp. Then we can worry about filling that gargantuan belly of yours,”
I purred.

“So unfair,”
Naurakka muttered but bent her long face to the ground as she traveled, drawing in scents like a bellows, and I followed, copying her actions. Jag’uri, unlike other big cats, retained a longer nose and jaw line, so the typical trade-off between decreased scenting ability and jaw strength never occurred in their evolutionary process. If their jaw strength suffered, its loss was matched by a gradual shrinking of prey size. It was a moot point in most instances, anyway, as their sickle-like claws do most of the heavy damage. Two-thirds of the way around the bar, I picked up where Kerrik had recently walked through the grass and low shrubs. I lifted my head and evaluated the spot; at least this trail was lightly used and didn’t seem to lead to the jakes for the bar. I didn’t smell any other humans either.

“I have the spoor…we follow,”
the big cat murmured, nose still plowing through the under foliage.

The trail twisted and turned through the dense woods, mostly birch, aspens, and various low forest ferns. It became evident to me that Kerrik was trying to hide his path; numerous switchbacks and short leaps to rocks proved this point. But it did nothing to hide his scent from an apex predator like a Jag’uri. The ground started to tilt upward as we approached a rocky escarpment where, eons before, the rock had been thrust up out of the earth and left leaning at broken angles. Giant shards of gray lichen-covered rocks and twisting vines stretched up at a severe pitch. Here and there, the fissures in the material formed natural shallow caves. The higher ground gave some peaks an impressive view of the surrounding woods and the territory beyond.

Naurakka grunted in approval, a quiet coughing sound,
“Good den area.”
She raised her fanged snout into the evening air and issued a low, menacing growl.
“Others think so, too.”

That’s when I caught a stray whiff of something primal and nasty - canines! Before I could analyze the smell further, the panicked scream of a young girl rang out over the rocks above us. Naurakka was already moving as I recovered from my surprise and tore after her, not as gracefully as a natural born Jag’uri, but plenty fast enough over this difficult terrain. Cresting a large, round-shouldered boulder the size of a cottage, we peered down into the crevasse area just below and my companion snarled.

There, perhaps twenty feet below us, was a small human girl wedged into a crack in the rock face, desperately fending off three enormous spotted, wolf-like creatures. But unlike the elegant forest wolves or snow wolves I was accustomed to, these had hunchbacks, ragged mangy fur, and short stubby tails. At the moment, they seemed to be at least as interested in fighting among themselves as taking the girl. It helped that the spot she was defending would only allow one of the creatures to attack at a time. But the short green stick she clutched as a weapon would never hold up to a serious charge.

Naurakka’s scream of challenge reverberated off the stone walls; a sound that started out low in her chest and rose to a screeching, shredding, crescendo at the tail end. The sound even made the hair on my back stand on end. Below us, the hyaenodons, as I had classified them from some drawings in an old dark elf tome, instinctively crouched and looking up spotting us. A small voice in the back of my mind supplied the bookish information that in some parts of the world, goblins used these fell creatures as mounts. These must have been incredibly hungry or had never encountered anything like a Jag’uri before, because their backs straightened and they took an aggressive stance, snarling and spewing out great gobs of drool as they faced us when we dropped silently to the ground thirty feet away.

“Go!”
I commanded,
“find prey elsewhere!”

“Four Fangs Pack does not give up kills to cats!” t
he largest male spat out angrily, shifting away from the child to step closer to us, his eyes like burning yellow cinders.

I initiated the change, and a few seconds later, I faced them as an angry dark elf and Druid.
“Will you defy a servant of the Earth Mother, then? Would you have your females be barren and your fleas especially fertile?”
I could see the leader’s companions’ heads and tails lower slightly in fear, but the big male was unshaken. The thought occurred to me that these might not be natural creatures, after all. With a throaty growl, he leaped at me, two-inch yellow teeth snapping like a crocodile.

A black flash of darkness intercepted him in mid-flight and slammed him hard into the rock path’s side walls.

“Ryliss…get the cub away…I will distract these dogs…meet back by the tavern,”
Naurakka hissed, already getting caught up in battle rage.

I knew better than to argue. Changing again, I became the form of a large gecko and scampered up the rock face and across to the crevasse where the girl still cowered. By this time, all the attackers’ attentions were on my midnight black companion and the fur was flying.

I dropped down behind them, in front of the girl, and changed back to a dark elf. I whispered hurriedly, “If you want to live, child, grab me around my neck and hold on!” The girl remained frozen and silent. I turned back, looking at her in irritation. “Girl, do as I say, now!” And that’s when my eyes were drawn to hers; at least, what was left of them. Hollow pits of sundered fleshed stared back at me, the child was obviously blind!

We had to get out of here now. The longer we stayed, the longer Naurakka had to stay engaged and the possibility of her getting killed grew. I was also picking up sounds of more scrambling on the rocks above us that I couldn’t attest to belonging to any of the creatures currently in the fight. Hunching down, I grabbed both of the girl's hands, and not waiting for her reply, drew them around my throat. “Hold on! And no matter what you feel, don’t let go!” This was going to be tough, a silver-backed eagle was the largest bird I could do, and even as magnificent as they were, I would be hard pressed to take off flat-footed with a seventy-pound weight. But I had to try. A hard kick of the legs with a corresponding booming clap of wings, and I sent myself slowly up into the evening air. Rising just above top of the rocks, my eagle vision noted another ten or so of the creatures racing along the upper rock ridge. One in particular looked brave enough, and had the vector, to make a snapping leap in our direction from a rock protuberance that jetted up nearby.

“Run, Rakka!”
I sent back to Naurakka, as I flailed desperately in the heavy air of the evening sky.

Just then, I felt a brush of fur against my talons and a mouthful of tail feathers were ripped out as I watched the beast sail past me, dip, and ungracefully plummet to the rocks below. A sharp, whining cry of pain rang out from it and half of the pack of ten broke off to polish off the wounded hyaenodon. The other five continued to track and follow my erratic flight and chased us along the ground snapping at the girl’s feet.

“W…Who are you? What are you?” the girl screamed, finally finding her voice. I could do no more than just utter a high-pitched flight call. But I had other problems; I still wasn’t able to find any altitude and I was starting to tire, plus I still had five slavering hyaenodons trailing just a few feet below us.

Barely cresting another stone ridge, I saw a large lake stretching out just on the other side. If I could get over the water, I would probably lose the pursuit, as I doubted they were proficient swimmers. Redoubling my efforts, I strained my already exhausted wings to pick up some speed. Just as we were approaching the shoreline, I felt the child shift precariously to the side, which unbalanced my flying. I tried to correct by shifting my own weight, but suddenly, she was like a lodestone around my neck pulling me down.

I heard her scream as she came fully off my back and her legs dangled in mid-air. Her arms were still around my neck, but the entire weight of her body was leveraging me into an inescapable downward plunge.

“I’m slipping! I can’t hold on any longer!” she cried.

Managing a couple last strong beats of my wings, I felt her feet hit the water no more than thirty feet from shore. The immediate drag tumbled us both into the cold water, landing hard. I saw nothing but water and turbulent bubbles for a few seconds. Gasping for air, I burst to the surface and started to change.

By this time, it was almost dark. Nighttime doesn’t bother a dark elf much; we can see just as well at night as the daytime. But water is a different story, none of my people are great swimmers; it’s just not something we enjoy. It probably has something to do with the small amount of body fat we carry. Treading water as best I could, I looked around for the girl, and she bobbed up a few seconds later, sputtering and spitting out water. The hyaenodons were milling about on shore. A few of them took tentative steps into the water, but most just looked at us and drooled, their mouths forming fiendish grins punctuated by the occasional snarl or tittering evil laugh.