Chapter 9 - Into the Woods

“We’re going with you!” yelled Edwin as he ran across the dusty ground of the keep’s courtyard after the four elf-men, the dwarf, and the Al-jihen.

Rayn turned and looked at the young, blond-haired elf following them. An alchemist he thought, seeing the elf-man’s red robe. A boy in the West, but a man in the marches. He’ll have to be, or he’ll die. He saw the black-haired elf-girl running beside the alchemist. A pugilist. Yaseikese. Shame; a girl like that shouldn’t have to punch aeons for a living. Better for her than it could be, I suppose. We’ll see what she’s got. He looked at the door of the tavern they’d just left and recognized the bard from the stage. I guess I ruined his performance. He looked back at the elf-man and the elf-girl before him.

“Two more,” said Rayn. “Fine by me, but I’m not the leader of this party. What do you say, monk? What did you say your name was again?”

“Greetings, alchemist. Greetings, lady of the Land of Wild Steel. I am Roderick XXIII.”

“You’re all freelancers, right?” asked Edwin. “You have a license to take jobs from the guild, right?”

“Indeed,” said Roderick.

“Then we want to join your party. Not just this one time, but for good.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Rayn. “No one said anything about making this permanent, kid. We’re getting the job done, and we’ll go from there.” We’ll see if you’re still alive. “There’s no pay in this. You’re a scholar, right? Think of this as a test.”

“An exam? I think you’ll be impressed with what I can do. What we can do. Emiko is the real fighter here,” said Edwin with a confident smile on his face.

“Is that so?” asked Rayn. Cocky, but he’s humble enough to recognize the strengths of his friends. I like that.

“What are your names?” asked Roderick.

“I’m Edwin of Ealdendale.”

“I am Emiko Tanaka. It is a pleasure to meet all of you, sirs.”

She’s adorable thought Rayn. So innocent. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. We have to protect this one.

“We need all the hands we can get,” said Roderick. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“What about me?” asked the high and soft tenor voice of a man.

The party looked up to see the black-haired, moustachioed elf who’d been playing at the tavern, his guitar slung across his back.

“I’m Errol. Errol the Black.”

“Excellent!” cried Alfreth with the clap of his hands.

What a fop thought Valgros. He’ll die first if the boy doesn’t.

“Where the Hell’s your sword?” asked Rayn.

“Oh, I’m uh… I’m a pacifist,” said the bard.

“Ha!” laughed Valgros. Yes. He’ll die first unless he knows how to use his legs. Don’t bother taking him.

“A pacifist?” asked Rayn. “How the Hell are you supposed to help us kill aeons?”

“Rayn,” said Leofric with the authority of his noble lineage, “we don’t have time to interrogate every person who joins in. We have to hurry if we’re going to save everyone.”

“You’re right, Loff. We can all get to know each other later.”

“Indeed,” said Roderick. “Let’s ride out. Lead the way, Rayn Redstride.”

A bard! thought Alfreth. Just the man we need: someone to chronicle our glorious quest!

Those without steeds rented them from the keep’s stable with the help of Roderick’s deep purse, except for Ulrich who ran alongside Rayn’s palfrey as a wolf. They charged out along the road under noon’s warm, spring sun.

After the long sprint, they reached the forest, beasts of burden sweating. Rayn slowed to a trot, letting the party’s stragglers catch up. Ulrich panted under the forest’s shade as he trotted alongside Rayn. Even as a dog, I feel my age devouring me he thought. The All-Father draws us all into His arms, in time.

“Should be just up ahead!” called Rayn over his shoulder.

So thought Alfreth, trying to catch his breath that’s what it’s like to ride a horse. Exhilarating. That’s as close to flying as I’ve ever felt since I took this elven form.

What day you’re leading me through, Rolandus thought Roderick. First the Al-jihen, now this tavern brawler and his noble friend. Or, is it his friend dressed as a noble? Hounds of Heaven, watch my back. Could this be a trap I’ve followed him into? I never expected anyone to follow us. If he leads me into a trap, I may be leading these freelancers to their doom. Hero have mercy. The Holy Light will guide us through what comes.

Valgros drew the long sword Roderick had purchased for him. The forest? This reeks of a trap. Any fool could see that. I’m riding off at the first sign that the stupid monk has led us to our dooms. I’ll fight with this elf. Aye, I owe him that at least. But, I’ll never die with him.

Edwin finally saw the wreckage up ahead: two slaughtered oxen, a wagon toppled over and torn to pieces, and hard loaves and cheeses and other goods scattered across the road and into the forest.

“Hell’s crucible,” he muttered under his breath. His stomach began to churn at the sight of the oxen, at the thought of the merchants scared for their lives. He pictured them screaming, trying to defend themselves. “I don’t think they put up much of a fight. There’d probably be a dead body or two. Slain hirelings. They had to have had some kind of guards,” he said to Emiko.

“You think the aeons would leave the dead bodies?” she asked.

“Well, they left the oxen. Yeah, I figure they’d leave any other bodies. I have a lot more questions than answers right now.” Is that a javelin sticking out of that ox?

“These are the marches,” said Errol, riding up beside them. “These are lands of death, of sacrifice, of pain and misery.”

“There is victory though sometimes too, right?” asked Emiko.

“Sometimes, but who’s to say if it’s ever worth it,” said Errol.

“The survivors,” said Edwin.

“Sometimes,” said Errol. He stared at the corpses of the two beasts. Flies buzzed around them, laying eggs to devour the fouling meat.

Rayn dismounted from his palfrey. “We’re going into the woods,” he said. “The trail looks easy enough to follow. I suppose our druid should lead the way. If we’re quick, we might be able to save them.”

“We can’t leave our horses to wander,” said Valgros.

“He’s right,” said Edwin.

“Here,” said Ulrich. He walked over to the side of the trail and muttered in the druids’ cant, waving his hand in mysterious gestures and pointing with his staff.

Don’t tire yourself so soon, old friend thought Roderick as he watched seven poles of wood spring up from the ground like trees racing through their lifespans.

“Tie your horses to these,” said Ulrich.

“Alright, but who’s going to watch them?” asked Valgros.

“Slib will,” said Ulrich.

“Who the Hell is S—” started Valgros before watching Ulrich smack the ground with the top of his staff.

Poof! A thick cloud of red smoke rushed up from the ground. Behind, it left a round blob of blue slime wearing a plain, golden crown. As tall as a horse’s shoulder, the blob stared at the party with two floating eyes.

“Greetings and salutations!” said Slib the Royal Slime in a voice as cheerful as a babbling brook. “It is good to meet thee again, Br. Roderick.”

“And thee as well, Slib.”

“What needst thou of me thy humble servant, my liege?”

“Wouldst thou keepeth thine eyes upon our steeds, noble servant?” said Ulrich

“Gladly, my liege. Might I doest thee a favour and dispose of these oxen for thee?”

“Certainly.”

“Much mercy upon thee, my liege.”

Ulrich turned to the mixed looks, both shocked and impressed, on the faces of the party. Behind him, Slib wrapped himself around one of the corpses with a great slurping and gurgling sound. “We’d best be off in a hurry. Follow me. I’ll try to make as clear a path as quickly as I can.”

“Draweth thine blades,” said Rayn with a sly grin as he shook his sword in the air.

“That’s not how you say that!” yelled Ulrich over his shoulder as he walked into the woods.

“What a specimen you’ve raised there,” said Alfreth. “He has quite the noble tongue, er, so to speak.”

“Thank you,” said Ulrich. “He’s an old friend.”

The party followed Ulrich, listening to him coax the brush back out of the party’s way as he followed the rough trail left by the abductors.

Roderick followed Ulrich first, his breastplate shining bright in the forest’s pale sun, his zweihander ready in hand, waiting on his shoulder. Wearing his red hood, his red cloak flowed across his back.

Valgros followed behind Roderick, wearing his leather jerkin, carrying his plain long sword in hand. His black hair seemed to almost meld with his black wolf-pelt hanging from his shoulders.

Alfreth followed Valgros, plates clanking as he marched through the brush. He had donned his barbuta helmet with its plume as white as snow hanging from the top. He’d removed his own cloak as it was purely decorative and offered no magical protection as some other cloaks might. He carried a poleaxe in his right hand, using it as a walking stick as he marched through the woods.

Rayn wore the same armuor and lack thereof that he’d been wearing all day, but Leofric had armuored himself in his own plate mail. He wore his long sword on his left hip and carried his spear in both hands. The visor of his helm was pinned up and open.

Edwin, Emiko, and Errol were dressed in the same clothes they’d been wearing before they left the keep.

“What do you all think happened?” asked Edwin.

“It’s clear that Rayn is right,” said Roderick. “As clear as it can be. That wasn’t an attack from bandits. They’d have cleaned the oxen for food or stolen them to sell or use for their own.”

“What kind of aeons do you think we’re dealing with then?” asked Edwin.

“There was no fire. That’s a good sign,” said Leofric. “That means it’s not flameflingers.”

“Grogs would have left a wider trail,” said Ulrich. “We’re too far from the marsh for bullywuggers probably.”

“Besides,” said Roderick, “any competent set of guards could have fought off bullywuggers.”

“I saw a javelin,” said Edwin.

“Aye,” said Ulrich. “Weapons are a double-sided sign for us.”

“How so?” asked Emiko.

“It means we’re fighting organized aeons like the lizardboys,” said Edwin. “That’s no good. But, it also means it wasn’t something bigger and meaner like a dragon or a chimaera.”

“Dragons aren’t so mean,” said Alfreth.

Roderick smirked and kept his mouth shut.

“They’re dangerous. Even a chivalric dragon could decimate us,” said Edwin.

Roderick chuckled at that.

“But why would one?” asked Alfreth. “Are we not heroes on a noble quest?”

“To tell you the truth,” said Edwin. “I don’t know if that’d make a difference. I really don’t know what chivalric dragons are like. I’ve never met one, and I’ve only read about despotic dragons and how fierce of foes they can be.”

“Well,” said Alfreth, “you can’t compare chivalric dragons and—”

A javelin flew through the air. Edwin watched the point of the weapon bounce off of Alfreth’s right pauldron with a clang!

“Ah!” screamed the knightly elf, jumping in his armour. Everyone turned to look at the knight. “There!” he yelled, pointing with his poleaxe. “In the brush!”

Leofric pulled the pin from his visor. It slammed shut with another clang! Errol strummed on his guitar, as quick and fierce as the gallop of a charging destrier.

“Edwin!” yelled Roderick. “Can you shoot them?”

Edwin realized he’d paused in the excitement. Mad at himself, he raised his wand and fired his sorcery shots. He could barely see the attackers. More javelins flew through the air at them. Lizardboys. No. They’re bigger. Lizardmen.

Four red bolts whizzed past the trees, striking four different targets. The lizardmen hissed in pain, then ran.

“Follow them!” yelled Ulrich, taking the lead, making a clear path with the wave of his staff and hand as he ran.

The shots didn’t kill them thought Edwin. We’re in for a real fight!

Follow them thought Valgros. They’re leading us into a trap! You’ll get us killed old dwarf.

“Glory to the All-Father!” yelled Leofric. “Fill your hands! Find your courage! Today we when in truth and honour!”

“Hail the Holy Light!” yelled Alfreth. “For He is with us!” I hope I said that right.

Edwin’s doubt and fear melted away. Courage swelled in his heart. Magic. Perhaps these throne-beggars aren’t entirely useless.

The party raced after the lizardmen, the forest itself making a clear way for them with the help of Ulrich. With such an easy path, they closed in on the lizardmen like wolves chasing down a dear.

Roderick rushed past Ulrich. “By the Light!” he cried as he swung his sword overhead. The blade glowed with white and golden light, slashing through tree limbs above him. At his call, the lizardman before him turned to face him. He planted the blade in the aeon’s head. Muscles bulging from his belt’s ensorceled power, he clove the aeon clean in two. His eyes stared wide at the damage he had done. What power! he thought. What might will I have when this belt is done with me?

He heard the other lizardmen hissing at each other. He couldn’t tell how many, but he knew there were more than Edwin had hit with his spell.

He lifted his sword, as light as a rapier, back over his shoulder and went on running, his feet striking the ground to the rhythm of Errol’s strumming.

“Holy harlots!” spat Rayn as he stopped and stared at the dead lizardman. “Can you do that?”

“Keep running, you idiot!” yelled Leofric, his voice muffled by his visor.

Keep playing thought Errol. Keep playing. Don’t look at it. It’s just an aeon anyway. It was trying to kill us. It’s not like it was an animal or a person. He felt the colour fade from his face. His stomach churned. His vision blurred. He strummed harder and faster, calloused, white fingers holding strings as he jogged past the dead creature, bringing up the rear.

“There’s a clearing ahead!” yelled Ulrich over his shoulder. This is where they’ll make their stand. Time to really fight. He watched Roderick enter the clearing first.

Roderick stared down a dozen lizardmen at least. He was sure there were more. Standing with his sword in a middle guard, Roderick took the chance to pray.

The lizardmen hissed and beat the ground with their clubs and hammers.

The party filed into the clearing. Ulrich, Edwin, Emiko, and Errol stood behind Roderick, Alfreth, Valgros, Rayn, and Leofric.

I’m not ready for this thought Edwin. These guys are experienced. I’ve never been in a fight this big. He felt a hand on his shoulder and realized the music had stopped.

He looked behind to see Errol staring at the line of armoured warriors in front of them. “Do you know the shield spell?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Get ready to use it. Especially on the Al-jihen and the red-haired man. They have the least armour.”

“Got it.” That simple direction helped him focus, and again, his fear and doubt were washed away like muck on a hand under a waterfall.

“What was your name, miss?”

“Emiko.”

“Emiko, watch for anyone being overwhelmed. Keep your eyes on the edges of the line or any gaps that form.”

“Good advice, bard,” said Ulrich. “For a man who doesn’t kill, you sure understand a fight.”

“I’ve seen my fair share, friend.”

There’s a kind of wisdom in this fellow thought Ulrich. I wonder what his story is. “Can you do any healing, bard?”

“Of course.”

“Take care of what I can’t.” Ulrich pointed his staff at the ground. In a puff of green smoke, there appeared a woman with red hair and long ears that pointed out to the side. On her head she wore a crown of branches, limbs sticking out, covered in orange leaves. Her skin was pink. Long, crimson robes hung from feminine form; she wore them like the queen of an ancient forest, forgotten by time and blessed in eternal autumn.

“Always when there’s trouble, Ulrich,” she said with a kind voice as cool as a fall breeze.

“You’re so good at getting me out of it, my lady.”

Wow! thought Edwin. A dryad. She’s quite the head-turner. Prettiest aeon I’ve ever seen. The illustrations don’t do’em justice. He looked around to see that in the calm before the battle, more lizardmen had gathered to either side of them. Damn. Emiko and I are pretty lucky we didn’t run into something like this in the marsh he thought.

The lizardmen, all hissing and hammering the ground with their crude weapons, began to fall into a rhythm. Edwin took the opportunity to observe them, thinking about how he would describe them in his notes. Taller and stouter than lizarboys. More like dragons than skinks. Yes, they have bodies as stout as dragonmen, muscles that would make a labourer feel inadequate. But, they still have the triangular heads of lizards. Large mouths for devouring small prey whole. Strong, oversized bottom jaws that I suspect could snap bones. Can't say I'm excited to find out if that's true. Green and brown hides of tiny scales. Spines protruding from their heads and backs. Intelligent enough to fashion crude weapons and create basic music. Quite the specimens. No literature I’ve read on them has done them justice.

“We’re not fighting them all at once,” said Ulrich. “Not yet at least.”