Chapter 42: The Incident in the Trees

“Well, since it’s just us two, plus Brutus, of course,” said Alcar, following Olynka as she began to make their way deeper into the tangle of trees on the valley floor, “I think we should stay really close. It would be easy to get lost in here.” He glanced from side to side, and pulled his green robes more closely around him.

“You’re going to need to keep quiet, man,” Olynka replied in a low voice. “Goblins have ears like bats, and they can hear like them, too.”

“Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “I hope the other two are getting on okay.“

She briefly paused, looking around. “I’m sure they’ll be all right,” she murmured. “The road to Dathmir is usually all right. We were unlucky – I don’t suppose the goblins go much further afield than where they attacked us. Another half mile and we would have reached a Dathmiri military installation.”

“Damn. Then we really were stupid to stop where we did.”

Olynka nodded. “Easy to say with hindsight.”

She turned and led on, rounding a large boulder and cutting in between a pair of huge oaks.

The ground underfoot was a thick mulch of decaying leaves, providing a soft surface to walk on but one that gave no hints of what hazards might lie beneath. The treetop canopy was largely brown at this time of the year, and full of gaps, as only a modicum of leaves still clung to the trees. All the same, the surroundings got gradually darker as the pair walked further, as the treetops rose higher and higher above them. The branches and trunks of nearly every tree were black-looking, and as Alcar peered closer, he saw that most were coated with a dark-green moss. As Brutus sniffed at it, Alcar pulled out his dagger and began to scrape at the strange and unfamiliar material.

“Collecting more samples?” asked Olynka, pausing to look around at him.

Alcar nodded; he already had a small jar in his hand, and he used the tip of the dagger to scrape some of the substance into it. “You never know what might prove useful,” he murmured. He didn’t want to add that his near-total ignorance of magical ingredients meant that most of what he was gathering was likely useless. All he could do was trust his gut.

Alcar was just twisting the jar shut and sheathing his dagger when he felt his friend’s hand on his arm.

“There,” she said, pointing.

Alcar followed her gaze, and saw a footprint – like that of a dog, but much larger. “Warg?”

“Yeah – I’m sure of it.”

Brutus whimpered softly.

“It’s okay, Brutus,” said Alcar softly, crouching and putting an arm around the dog’s shoulders as he tucked the jar back in his robes. “We’ll protect you.” He then mentally rehearsed the incantation that his master had told him:

Rac et weimannia

To his total shock, a huge ball of blue flame shot out from each of his hands upon completing his mental utterance of the phrase. Fortunately the cone-shaped blast missed both Olynka and Brutus, but both the heap of leaves on the ground ahead and two of the nearby trees were momentarily engulfed in flames.

“What the...” Alcar muttered, stepping back and raising his hands and arms against the hot blaze that had rapidly risen up. Brutus ran around behind the sorcerer’s legs, while Olynka just stood there speechless, looking repeatedly from the apprentice sorcerer to the fire, and back again.

After a few seconds, the blaze began to die down a little, but the two trees immediately ahead were both still burning steadily, while the piles of leaves on the ground were now giving off a plume of thick, dark smoke, with a few flickers of flame still visible.

“What did you do?” said Olynka, stepping forward and beginning to stamp on the nearest area of burning leaves.

“I’m sorry... it was a total accident, you know?” said Alcar. ”I’m new to this.” He wafted some air towards the flaming tree ahead, but this only served to make the flames smaller and more fierce.

“Stop, man – you’re fanning that!” called out Olynka. And Brutus let out a low and mournful howl.

Just then, there came the sound of yelling voices not far away, in between where the companions were standing and the cliffs that ran along the edge of the valley to their south. Alcar peered in that direction, eyes widening, and was sure he could see movement through the trunks of the trees. And then he heard a battle horn blow.

“Shit! We need to get the hell out of here!” he cried.

Olynka was already running, and as Alcar sprinted after her, Brutus charged forward and passed them both, easily leaping over low branches and sporadic rocks that lay in their way.

Alcar could make out a distinct crashing noise behind him as he ran, and felt sure that the goblins and their allies had approached directly towards the vicinity of the burning trees – an area that they had just vacated. If they weren’t there, they would be soon. With luck, the flames would now act as a distraction, leading them away from Alcar and his companions.

However, other movement could be heard among the trees on both sides. As Alcar looked off to their right, a warg came crashing out from between two trees just ahead of Olynka. It stopped, shook its mane, and roared.

Olynka, almost without breaking stride, nocked an arrow and fired. The arrow only had to travel around four yards before slamming home into the roof of the warg’s mouth, leading to an explosion of blood and gore. The monstrous creature staggered backwards; Alcar followed up the attack with another thumping two-handed blow with his staff.

Leaving the stunned and wounded warg behind, the companions ran on, heading for the low end of the valley.