The Realms of Animar (26 page)

The dog slowly inched closer, crouching low as it moved within striking distance. A deep growl spilled forth, joined by a stream of saliva that dripped from its gaping mouth and slowly fell to the waiting snow below.

He and his attacker were locked in a stare of wills, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around them. Time seemed to freeze while each second slowly stretched to the next as if the icy embrace of their surroundings had trapped each moment in a perilous grip.

Piercing his focus, one of the brothers yelled. It was neither a plea for help nor a call of triumph. It was a scream, the type formed by pain and filled with agony. In a flicker of an instant, a brief moment that could not be pulled back, Caballus glanced to his left where the brothers battled. Seizing the opportunity, the dog struck.

With incredible speed the beast covered the ground between them, its body a flicker of shadow as it moved. Caballus lifted his arms to shield his throat as he turned back, but it was too late. The dog crashed into him with enough force to knock most men down but he maintained his balance, braced by thick muscular legs while the animal clamped onto his right arm with the powerful grip of its jaws. Pain shot threw him and as he punched at the dangling beast with his free arm his grip on the staff failed and it fell to the ground. He yelled in agony as his flesh was torn, spilling forth a flow of warmth that he knew to be born from his blood.

Caballus punched harder, striking the dog repeatedly, but its bite would not give. They toppled to the snow.

An experienced warrior, the dog then morphed into a man, his mouth still clutching the arm of his prey. He was thin and black and adorned in ratty cloth that barely clung to his bony limbs.

The man released his bite and clawed at Caballus’ face, scratching with fingernails that tore into his skin with ease. Instinct took over as Caballus leaned away from his attacker to shield his eyes. Using his weight to his advantage, he then forcefully rolled on top of the much smaller opponent, pinning him to the ground from behind. While his wiry enemy flailed desperately to right himself, Caballus slipped a muscular arm around his neck and squeezed as he lifted, crushing the man’s throat in an instant which was confirmed by a muffled snap. He released his grip on the man’s head and he tumbled to the ground just before his body shifted and was replaced by that of the fallen beast.

As Caballus stood up, time crashed back into his senses with an onslaught of visions and sounds. One of the brothers, Clotch it appeared, was down in the snow, writhing back and forth while clutching a badly bloodied leg. Beside him was the body of another dog, not moving and apparently dead.

The other brothers had killed one dog and were finishing off the second that had already been wounded. Although death drew near, it continued to snap at them, possessed by a thirst that his kind would never understand.

Splotch and Blotch circled the animal as it limped and bit at the air, neither wanting to deliver the fatal blow. He realized that the brothers were new to warfare but theirs was not a world that forgave the timid. Action was needed.

Caballus picked his staff off the ground and quickly ran past Splotch, brushing him to the side as he moved in. The dog snapped as he approached then cowered slightly just before the staff struck its head, ending its suffering forever.

Bracing for the next attack, the men turned their attention in the direction of the man who just minutes before had taunted them boldly. What they saw in the moments that followed they would never forget.

Instead of attacking, the leader was backing toward them, his arms flailing back and forth as if desperately struggling to fend off a something unseen. He yelled into the darkness, words that they could not comprehend. Panic had gripped him, his mind seemed lost.

The man then spun towards them. His eyes locked on Caballus while fear covered his face. Before he could draw closer a flowing shadow quickly enveloped his head from behind, moving fast and seemingly ethereal in nature. As quickly as it had appeared, the figure then vanished back into the night while the once boastful man stumbled forward then to his knees, gripping his gaping throat that now poured his remaining life to the snow. Seconds later, as the last act of his beating heart passed, the man fell forward and morphed into a mangy brown dog that stared blankly into the crackling fire.

The assassin emerged from the night, his hooded cloak fluttering in the wind as it briefly shielded his face from view. In each hand he clutched a bloodied wooden dagger, evidence that his craft had been at work. Mordigal lowered his hood, tucked the daggers into his belt and ran to tend to Clotch.

Caballus stared in awe as the companion he had doubted knelt over their fallen friend. The other brothers joined him, their faces wrought with concern. Clotch screamed and writhed as Mordigal examined his wounds.

“Is he ok, is he going to be alright?” Splotch asked, ignoring the blood splattered on his own face.

“Keep him calm!” Mordigal ordered. “Hold him still! I need a better look!”

Clotch yelled in agony once more and grabbed at the snow while they turned his wound into the light to better assess the damage.

Apparently content with what he saw Mordigal said, “Alright, good. You’ll fight again brave slayer of dogs.” He then looked at the other brothers and continued, “You two just wash it with snow and bandage him up. He will be sore but he should be able to walk on it.”

“See, I knew it,” Clotch managed through gritted teeth. “I told you I would be fine.”

“Liar!” Blotch replied. “You were crying like a baby you were!”

The assassin then stood and turned to Caballus. “No telling how long they were tracking us. We better get moving as soon as he is able, just in case.”

“How many were there?” Caballus asked.

Mordigal peered around the camp at the corpses that were within view. “With the five here, a total of ten.”

In unison the triplets looked up at the assassin.

“Ten?” Splotch asked.

“I guess that’s right,” Mordigal replied with a smile. “You took out half of them. They had a few archers that luckily stayed in the back.”

“Good thing the others were unarmed!” Blotch said.

“Hey, look at my leg!” Clotch reminded. “They have teeth. That is enough!”

Mordigal withdrew the bloodied daggers from his belt and examined them by the light of the fire. “Their kind prefers to travel in beast form. They detest metal unless it is absolutely necessary.” He then surprised them with a growl. “Damn it! I cracked one.”

Caballus peered at the finely carved blades. “Interesting choice. I have heard of those who use wooden stakes but never seen daggers such as those.”

“Fragile but effective,” Mordigal replied. “The tips are prone to breaking, especially when they strike bone but I morph a lot in combat. Wood is a must.” He paused and tossed the damaged weapon into the now dwindling fire. “You should give one a try, I highly recommend them.” He offered the dagger, still tainted with damp blood, to Caballus. “Go ahead, I carry several.”

“No thanks,” Caballus replied as his eyes focused on a red drip that clung to the edge. “I will stick with muscle.”

“Fair enough. We use what we have.”

While shame nipped at his thoughts Caballus grinned. He had doubted the assassin, he had questioned his motives. It was a mistake that he hoped not to make again. But then, as he punished his integrity, as he promised not to judge others so quickly, he noticed something peculiar. Mordigal’s gaze had drifted. His eyes were now focused on one of the fallen dogs, his thoughts elsewhere, considering action. He knew that inside a repressed hunger struggled to be quenched.

Caballus reached into his shoulder pack and soon found what he was after. He tossed the wrapped package to Mordigal who was startled from his stare but still managed to catch the gift before it fell to the ground. Curious, the assassin worked quickly as he removed the cloth wrapping. A look of defeat marked his face.

“Just what I was thinking,” Mordigal said as he took a bite from the cold loaf of bread.

Caballus laughed as he kicked snow onto the fire, dousing the flame and sending dark smoke billowing into the night air. It was time to leave.

A few hours later daybreak found the group, bringing with it the enlightening warmth of the sun and yet another exciting discovery – that they had reached the end of the ravine. Once soaring to the sky, the cliff walls gradually lowered on either side while the ravine opened up and fed into flatter ground. The frozen riverbed on which they had been traveling now meandered to the west where it disappeared into a small forest of snow-topped trees.

From their elevated viewpoint, they could see beyond the forest where it yielded to the dreaded Plains of Sarool, a dry, barren wasteland that stretched out before them. To the south and north the mountains gradually diminished, blending with the terrain and opening up a variety of directions to travel.

Caballus glanced back the way they came, recalling their long trek through the mountains and the new home he had left behind. They had readily welcomed him as one of their own and he longed to free his people and return to help defend the village. He only hoped something was left when they returned.

The five wary travelers stood gazing across the expanse before them, their minds all wondering what perils lie ahead. The first part of their journey was complete and the next leg was about to begin.

Mordigal decided it was time and said, “Gentlemen, I believe this is where we part ways.”

The brothers looked at one another then nodded and shook hands with their companions.

“Well it’s been fun boys,” Clotch said as he leaned on his healthy leg, the other heavily bandaged.

His brothers stood on either side, their blank faces unsure as to the direction to travel. Their innocence reminded him of children, new to the world and naïve to the dangers that life brought with it.

Splotch took charge and pointed into the distance, “I guess we will head southwest, into the forest and then follow the dessert edge maybe. I heard there were some farming villages out that way.”

Blotch agreed, “Sounds dandy.” He then turned to his wounded brother and snickered, “Clotch, want to race to that tree line?”

Clotch grumbled and limped onward, never looking back as Mordigal and Caballus watched with admiration as he struggled on. His brothers ran to join him, laughing as usual, unfazed by the thought of parting ways.

Caballus shook his head and looked to the west where the rising sun behind him sparkled off of the snow-covered ground, “Think they will make it back?”

“Hard to doubt them,” Mordigal replied. “What I do doubt is that the carnivore army will wait until winter passes.”

Caballus nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. We made it through easily enough.”

“We better hurry. I will run until I get tired and then will need a ride.”

As they descended the rocky terrain, Caballus glanced over his shoulder while the friends he had only recently come to know slowly drifted away. He wondered how far they would get or if they would ever cross paths again. His own situation had turned to something he never would have anticipated. His lone companion was now a carnivore assassin, the enemy he had befriended, a representative of the very evil essence that divided their world.

Together the men morphed and the horse and the wolf, an unlikely pair for sure, disappeared into the horizon with their fates now locked as one.

Chapter 28

A
gentle but cold breeze tickled his beard as Avryn watched the sun slowly rise over the village from the tower window of the Great Hall. The snowfall had stopped, but evidence of its icy touch lingered everywhere. With weary eyes, he fought off a yawn.

Behind him Urso and Semu stared at a parchment spread atop the massive oak table that filled the center of the room. Upon its surface was a large sketch of the exterior of their walled village and its immediate surroundings. Numerous scribbles dotted the drawing; plans had been debated, thoughts redrawn. In the chamber where once a large group had gathered to ponder strategy, only the three remained. War was upon them, but planning had proven difficult.

Gazing out at the countryside, Avryn said, “Go get some rest. I appreciate you both staying. I’m sure we will have many more long nights ahead.”

Urso ignored the gesture and grumbled while his eyes remained locked on the large map. “We need Guderian,” he said. “He was our best strategist. We shouldn’t have allowed him to go. And the weapons…we just don’t have enough skilled workers.”

“If we knew how many people were coming it might help,” Semu added, his deep voice filling the room as he spoke.

After a brief pause, Avryn turned to his men. “I think we have to assume the worst. We decided to stay and fight, we must remain strong for the sake of the others. We can’t waste any more nights bickering over options. It’s time for decision. They could march on us at any time and if they came today we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Urso sighed and then nodded. “You’re right. Of course you are. I suppose we have to make do with what we have. I will check on Joli and the new weapon smiths when I head back to the arena.”

“I will get my men back working on the ditches,” Semu said. “The ground will be hard but we can do it.”

Avryn turned to Urso, “How is the training going?”

Seemingly uncomfortable, he glanced at Semu then back to Avryn, “Well, Thane…he…”

Avryn prodded him along, “Go ahead, Semu can hear whatever it is. I know what I said, but that was meant for the others, not him.”

The giant guard peered blankly at Urso but inside he was likely beaming.

“Understood,” Urso said. “Well…Thane…he is incredible. Far surpassed my other students. Obviously he has an advantage but still, when he doesn’t, pop or whatever he does, his hands are so quick, his eyes see everything. Truly incredible. He will be a great asset when the carnivores attack.”

Instantly animated, Avryn yelled, “Out of the question! He is not going to fight unless he has to!”

“But Avryn, we need him,” the trainer pleaded.

“He is just a boy. Perhaps talented or gifted…whatever, but still…he is just a boy.”

Defeated, Urso shook his head. “He isn’t a boy anymore Avryn. If he cannot fight then I have wasted my time training him. Had I known you wouldn’t let him fight I would have spent my efforts elsewhere.”

Semu backed up a step, removing himself quietly from the debate.

Enraged, Avryn pointed at Urso. “You were perfectly willing when we first spoke about this. If it’s true that this man, Fatalis, is set on killing him, you agreed he needed to be trained. I never said he would be stuck out in front of our troops when the enemy marched upon us. That was your thinking not mine!”