By the Law of Fives Writing Guild
(The Catalyst, The Instigator,
The Time Reaction, and The Simple Solution)
(The Catalyst, The Instigator, The Time Reaction, and The Simple Solution)
Intro * Part 1 * Part 2 * Part
3
Maneuvering through masses of people could be trying at times, but with the streets covered in debris of all shapes, sizes, and material, passage was becoming next to impossible. Nevarris clambered up a pile of splintered wood and wire mesh to gain his bearings. The town (or what was left of it) had lost enough landmarks that even a local could lose his sense of location. "It'll take more years to rebuild the damage here than I'm be willing to spend," Nevarris thought to himself as he shielded the sun from eyes which darted through the crowd, searching for any of his guild employers. He was also watching for the Woman in Blue with hopes of speaking more, and watching for a guildsman for just the opposite reason. The last thing he wanted to do was join the efforts to pick up trash and salvage the reusable portions.
"Nevarris!" A voice rang above the drone of the people and the raucous of the cleanup efforts. "Nevarris! I be glad to see ya, I am! Ifín yous ainít too busy up on that trash, yer presence is requested at the Main Hall." Braddin was one of the guildís message boys. At twelve years of age, and after a year of service, he had learned nothing but rudeness and tactlessness. If he werenít so damned good at sniffing out people, and quickly dodging through heavy crowds with his nimble frame, he would have been dismissed from the organization long ago.
"To what do I owe this displeasure, you disgusting little snot?" Nevarris particularly disliked the little wretch who had ratted him out, on more than one occasion, for being at the bar when he should have been working. On top of that, the boy didnít even bathe, and this was particularly discomforting to Nevarris. "Who needs me so badly today?"
"It be the headmaster himself, ass crack. You best be watchiní how you talk to me, ugly, ëcause I can gets you into troubles you donít even knows about! You think yer better than me, buts yíainít!" At this, Braddin pushed on one of the boards Nevarris was precariously perched upon, hoping to send him tumbling. With a quick shift in weight and a half spin on his left heel, the accident was expertly avoided and led to a vicious, leaping attack from the dexterous guildsman. Fear swept the features of the youth as he narrowly escaped the grasping fingers of a clearly angry Nevarris, and the boy ran into the crowd in a desperate attempt of flight. The chase was close only for moments before the small boy was able to elude his pursuer, leaving a disgusted and red-faced Nevarris marching purposefully and lividly to the Inventorsí Guild.
"I wonder," Nevarris thought to himself as he marched his way through the crowd, "why Master Adrivall would summon me like this? Usually all assignments are delivered from the dispatch agent, or during the weekly assembly. No doubt its something that filthy pigeon said about me, and Iím in for a whallopÖ Damn, I hate that kid!" As he drew nearer to the guildís main building, the damage grew increasingly worse. The piles of rubble were larger, containing rock and plates of steel. Every building was completely demolished and most were burning to some degree, though it looked as if the fires were well contained and manageable. Every building was destroyed except one, and it stood proud and triumphant above the shattered remains of the rest.
The Power of Man guild center was completely untouched. All three stories, and all wind fans were unblemished. There wasnít a single piece of window glass broken, or a single exterior torch extinguished. The shingling was undisturbed, and the banners were clean and bright. Even the elaborate hand carved sign was still hanging by its thin silver chains above the main entrance! It was as if the storm had not even touched the massive structure which comprised nearly half the business district. What once had been the business district, anyway. As Nevarris mounted the first few steps leading up to the entrance of the magnificent structure, a strange tingling rose on the back of his neck, and turned his arms to gooseflesh. A shiver ran up his spine as he stepped over the threshold of the oversized, welcoming doors of the main hall, then all eerie sensations were gone.
Inside, the wounded were lining the walls, lying on the floors, and the guildís own medical staff (which were considerable in number) were tending their needs. Many of the common staff were helping where they could as well. Conspicuously absent were the distinguished members who did no manual labor, of course. Nevarris slowly made his way through the disarray of the makeshift medical ward, not knowing what to think of the new surroundings.
"There you are," came an unfamiliar voice from an unfamiliar guildsman. There were many people visibly working for Guildmaster Adrivall, and many people working behind closed doors. Too many people to ever get to know, and far too many to bother remembering. "Adrivall awaits you in his chambers, and I suggest you move a little more quickly. He seems anxious to see you."
With a quick step fuelled by boiling curiosity and a slight fear of the unknown, Nevarris hurried down the center hallway, and up the staircase that led to the chambers of the most powerful man in the city. Publicly, the city was run by a magistrate, as is every other. However, it was taken for granted that whatever Luviros Adrivall wanted, he got, and whatever he wanted to do, he did without a word from town officials. His guild was the life breath of the town, and without it ships wouldnít even brave the unpredictable currents of the coastline to keep this town on their trade route. Without the trade, this town would surely crumble.
The door before him was ornate and riveted with steel belting and locks of great fortitude. A large hammer hung from a dark chain on the wall to the right of the door. A crude door knock indeed, but with the barricadeís mass being so great, it needed a device capable of heavy impact to deliver a blow audible enough to reach roomís interior. As Nevarris reached for the giantís hammer, a kind voice passed undistorted through the thick door and instructed him to enter.
After a series of clicks, clanks, and scrapes, the door swung outward on large hinges, allowing passage to the inner holdings, and revealing the silhouette of a tall bald man standing before an even taller window on the opposite wall. "Come in, Nevarris, Iíve been expecting you for quite some time now. I trust your delay was from assisting the clean-up efforts?"
"WellÖ I, uhÖ wouldnít quite say that, Sir." Nevarris felt like a mouse cowering beneath the gaze of a hawk. "I had justÖ"
"Donít bother explaining yourself," cut in Adrivall abruptly. "None of that really matters now, and the efforts of one man wouldnít make an impact anyway. I called you here this afternoon in regards to the run you are making to Wolfston tomorrow. Do you still plan on going?"
"Well, yes I still intend to go. That is, if Iím still needed to."
"Yes, you will still be needed to travel to Wolfston, Nevarris, but Iím afraid your assignment will be a bit more involved than bringing back a load of wood. You see, you will be traveling there with a horse-drawn cart, as planned, only you will not be returning with it."
"Iím afraid I do not understand your intentions, Master Adrivall. Is there some reason why I am not allowed to return? Is it something I have done? What ever this is about, Iím sure we can work out the problem! IÖ"
"No," Luviros interrupted, "slow down and let me explain. You jump to too many conclusions, nervous one. You are not being exiled; I am simply giving you a new assignment. I have a colleague who has need to do some traveling, and I am requesting you to accompany him for an undisclosed amount of time."
"Sir. You wish to assign me as a bodyguard? Iím not cut out for such things. I am a handyman, not a brute."
"Youíve done an excellent job defending me on my trips, and keeping the name of our organization clear of misdoing. I think you would be an exceptional guardsman for this person. For not only will he need a certain level of protection, but also company will help keep him sane on his journey. You are good for conversation, Mr. Garrimon, and also capable in a skirmish."
"I know your judgment is sound, Master Adrivall, and after all youíve done for me, I have no choice but to accept your assignment. It is the least I can doÖSo, who is this person, and when shall we leave?"
"This person, Nevarris, is a man by the name of Gustar Longrove, and he should arrive at these chambers within a matter of minutes. Your future schedule will be determined by Mr. Longrove, since itís his journey you are undertaking."
The blazing shafts of sunlight burned holes through cloud cover as the great storm died over the mountains to the North East. Shade realized he loved the few hours after a heavy storm. It was calming. The clean smell of ozone from the numerous (and sometimes frighteningly close) lightning strikes was still in the freshly washed late spring air. Of course that was not all that was in the air. On his bug wings flew the brownie that had somehow befriended him. Shade had no real friends, so he had nothing to compare the immortal too, but somehow biting his hand and driving off the only kind person Shade knew had made them friends. Or so Gutter told him.
"It looks down right disastrous up there, Chalky. We sure we wants to be heading this way?" chirped Gutter as he lighted on Shade's muscular shoulder.
Shade had answered this question several times since this morning and was beginning to grow tired of the repeated query. "Who am I, Gutter?"
"How should I know, boy? I just met you last night." Gutter answered a little to quickly, but luckily the mortal didnít notice. Mortals were so dull sometimes.
"I think you know more than you let on, fairy. You could save me some time and just tell me what I need to know; or we can search this entire planet until I find what I am looking for."
"Do you even know what you are looking for boy?" Gutter knew this would stump the mortal and it served as a good way to stop a conversation he did not want to have right now.
The strange looking pair approached the devastated city when the sun was straight overhead. It had evaporated most of the clouds and the day was beginning to warm up quite nicely. The traffic in and out of the city had come to a standstill after the storm, which made travel to and from move much quicker than usual.
Gutter couldnít be seen like this right now. The sight of an immortal creature here and now would probably not go over well after that storm. Even though these mortals would have no idea who had sent the maelstrom they were frightened and would turn quickly on someone who to them was as unnatural as the storm which had just destroyed their town, injuring and killing loved ones. "Shade, wait here and I will return in a few minutes. I cannot go into the city like this. I need to find a disguise".
The buzz of Gutters now healthy wings took him into the not too distant trees in seconds. Shade found a wagon that had been blown over like a leaf in a breeze along side the road, its occupants obviously gone. He took a seat on what was left of the bench and tried once again to organize his thoughts. It had become easier just within the last couple days. His head had finally started clearing of the fuzziness left him by the wound on his forehead. It now seamed that since he had no memories his mind ached to take in as much information as possible. He could remember the exact distance to the fork in the trail he and Gutter crossed earlier today. He knew that the large rock less than a mile back faced east into the rising sun. Every little detail of his new life was flooding his parched mind.
Shade never heard the child walk up next to the wagon, but that didnít mean he didnít know that it was there. "Is that you Gutter?" He said without even looking back over his shoulder at the little monster.
This mortal had a knack for catching Gutter off guard when that was the exact thing that the fairy was trying to do to him. That would have to be remedied. "Of course its me, fool! Do you think a normal child would walk up to a full-grown man with white skin and eyes that burn with bale fire? You are not very bright, pale skin. I can probably help you with that though. Seeing as how I know so many things, that is".
Shade was impressed with the fairy's disguise. Gutter looked very little like his normal (or abnormal) self. He had somehow made himself look taller and more human which gave him the appearance of a young child. He still had some tell tale fairy features--like his high, noble cheekbones and a slight point to his ears--but those sharp little teeth of his were gone. Gutter more than likely knew many things, most of which Shade would not like to know. Of this Shade was sure.
"Quit gawking, fool. I may look like a child, but I am still older, wiser, and nine hells more worldly than yourself. You should do what I say when we get into that city. You havenít had to deal with a whole lot of people since your accident, so just listen to what I tell you." In most cases it wouldnít do to have a child making the decisions or telling his elder what to do, but hopefully with the recent storm and the damage it caused the peoples minds would be elsewhere.
The city had been shattered like a crystal goblet thrown against a stone wall. Pieces of buildings were strewn throughout the whole of the burg. Windows were nothing but holes in walls and all structures not made of stone or masonry would need to be repaired or rebuilt. Even some of those sturdy buildings had not been left standing. Clean up crews in different liveries were everywhere trying to organize the debris, tend the injured, and cart off the dead. Each noble and guild would have as many servants as possible out trying to help in the effort so as to boost their popularity. Shade seemed to be taking this pretty hard while the two of them meandered muddy streets covered in the wreckage of this once great city. He had that far away stare back in his eyes and seemed to be moving as if asleep. "A penny for your thoughts, bone walker," thought Gutter to himself as he snickered into his hand. It wouldnít do to be to giddy surrounded by citizens in a state of mourning.
The maelstrom had done its job well. No building seemed to be untouched. No life in this city would soon forget the power of its winds and the violence of its thunder and lightning. It was then that Gutter felt a familiar tingle in his spine. Magic. Some one was using Magic. There should not be any other immortals hereÖ unless they came with the storm. "Shade, stay here. I will be back soon."
Shade showed almost no recognition of the fact that Gutter had spoken to him except to slowing down his already sluggish gait. It would make no matter. Gutter could pick out the bone walker from a hundred yards with his eyes closed. Right now he needed to know who was using the power of gods, and from which god the power had been granted.
It didnít take long for the fairy-turned-child to ferret out what ended up to be the first of many humans using magic. They all seemed to wear the same livery and, from what Gutter could tell, were all part of sect of creators. Most of the guildsman on the streets had only crude knowledge of the power they wielded, obviously novices even on a mortal's scale. He saw only one who even had a rudimentary idea of what he was doing. His telekinesis was sloppy and his constructs lacked the substance of its natural counterpart. Whether they were inept or not, they all knew the godly arts and that meant they had a teacher.
It was a shock for someone as in tune with the unnatural as Gutter to see the Guildhall. It glowed like another sun in the midday sky with its wards and barriers. Things such as these were invisible to the mortal eye, but all immortals had the sight. This place was dangerous. Mortals should not have such power. Gutter needed to be away from here quickly. If these people could create constructs this powerful then they would be able to pick him out without a glance.
Shade had no idea where he was or where Gutter had gone. The visions had started as soon as he walked into the chaos that was this city. It was as if he was walking the streets of some other ruined city. A city of great importance to his past and the memories he was trying desperately to regain. Now that his head was clearing he had no clue as to where he had wandered. He seemed to be in a rougher part of town, but who was to say what was rough and what wasnít now. The sound of voices from around the corner drew his attention. As he rounded what was left of a run down inn into a dirty, trash-filled alley he found the owners of the voices.
"I thinks sheís prity. Donít you boys?"
"Oh sheís prity, alright. I tinks da boy will fetch us a bigger purse, doe."
"Eís right. Da nobs pay high prices for prity li'l boys."
"Well, then, its settl'd, we keeps da woman and sells da boy."
The boy could be no more than seven years old, and yet he stepped in front of his mother to block her from the three dirty beasts that threatened them both. He could have no idea what the bastards meant to do with him, but he must know he wouldnít let anything happen to his mother. Shade's vision narrowed to only the inhabitants of this remote alley of a ruined city. The rage boiled out of its home deep in his soul, flooding throughout every inch of his body. He moved faster than any human should and his eyes trailed plumes fire. His assault was a surprise to all in the alley including him. His balled fist caught the closest ruffian at the base of the skull, unhinging it from the spine. As the other two men realized what was happening Shade had already crossed the few feet to the one with the sword. When the slaver brought his blade forward in a deadly overhand stroke Shade stepped inside his reach and wrapped his arm around the swordsmanís, forcing it to bend against the joint. The scream of pain was earsplitting, but Shade still heard the shuffle of feet and felt the presence of danger behind him. The knife flew over his right shoulder as he twisted out of the path of its flight. Unfortunately for the swordsman already in Shade's grip it caught him in the throat, just above the collar of his leather jerkin. Blood sprayed forth from the lethal wound. Before a drop touched the ground Shade crossed to the other man and drove his palm into his nose. He crumpled without another sound.
A screaming bundle of flesh and dirty clothes darted by him and out of the alley. With the woman and boy gone only Shade and three fresh corpses remained. Shade was shaking. His heart thudded in his chest and his pulse beat against his eardrums. He hadnít even noticed being stabbed in the side until now. The man with the sword must have had another blade in his left hand. Shade felt nothing as he unsheathed it from his flesh. The wound didnít hurt at all and there was no blood to be found.
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap. "Not bad, chalky. Whereíd you learn that?"
"ÖIÖI donít know?" Shade was still too stunned by his actions to be upset about being crept up on by his new friend. He had to have been trained somewhere by someone. This was not normal.
"Shouldnít you make sure they arenít the ones youíre looking for?" Gutter wasnít sure this would work, but it was worth a try.
Shade bent over the closest corpse and without thinking placing his hand over the recently deceasedís head. Children, a house, women, family, liquor, beatingsÖ "Aaahhhhh!" Shade had just looked through the man's mind, flipping through his memories like a tax collector through his tithing. Although this man was no saint, he was not one of them. Who were they? Would he have to kill just to find out? More questions. He checked the other two men in the same fashion and knew when he was done that none of these three were related to the rage that had been driving him.
Gutter was going through the dead men's pockets and taking what valuables he could find. Shade questioned him with a look.
"They arenít going to be needing any of this stuff where they are going," Gutter said with a small grin. "You should take that sword, you may not be able to pummel everyone to death." This time Gutter laughed out loud. He was already having more fun with this mortal than any of those other fools. He sobered quickly though when he remembered the all too close Inventorís Guild.
"We need to leave, Shade. Three bodies will be hard to hide. Especially since there were witnesses."
The sword wasnít the best. Still it was weighted well and it showed no rust. It slid into the albino's empty scabbard easily, if a little loosely. Pain lanced through Shadeís side and the knife wound began to bleed profusely soaking his shirt and trousers. He would have to remember to check himself for wounds after fighting from now on. If he wasnít going to feel them until several minutes later he might as well take care of them before they started to hurt.
"Where to Gutter? I know nowhere else to go," Shade asked. Using his own shirt to bandage the superficial knife wound, he exposed the confusing yet intricate writing and sketching that covered nearly his entire torso. The shirt of the man whose neck he'd broken would have to do, hiding as much of the tattooing as possible. Some of the ancient sigils and wards still snaked their way onto the back of his neck and hands, though. Not that an albino and a fairy wouldn't attract attention anywise. Gutter was right it was time to leave this city of ruined buildings and ruined people.
"We will head north along the Sleepy Water for Wolfston." Gutter did not like that cluster of mortals anymore than this one, but at least there were no creators there. At least there werenít the last time he was through. When was that? Could it be 70 years already?
Nevarris disliked the idea of a stranger determining his travel schedule, but he did not want to disobey Master Adrivall's orders. Insubordination often carried a stiff penalty of backbreaking labor or a severe whipping. Nevarris resolved that any excuse to get away from this ruined town and the work it would take to rebuild it was good enough for him. For now.
"Here is Gustar now," Luviros stated as he waved a hand in a swirling motion toward the chamber door. The heavy door clicked and swung open revealing an old man with dirty gray hair and beard dressed in plain clothes and a patchwork cloak. He had a splint on his lower right leg and he was leaning on a crutch
"Come on in, Gustar! We were just talking about you," called the guild master.
"Well met, Luviros," replied the old man as he hobbled through the door. "Do you have a place where I can sit? The leg pains me if I stand for any length of time."
Master Adrivall waved Gustar to a nearby chair. "I would like you to meet Nevarris Garrimon, an assistant of mine. He will be accompanying you on your journey."
Gustar turned his attention to Nevarris, "Such a young man to have to deal with the perils of war," he thought to himself. Out of habit, the wizard checked Nevarrisí aura and saw faint signs that the young man may carry the gift of magic. "Interesting. I should explore the extent of his abilities later on," he thought. Aloud, the wizard said, "It is good to meet you, young man. I want to thank you ahead of time, since I do not think I could make it too far on this leg by myself. A good wagon ride will do me well."
"Did that happen during the storm, Sir?" asked Nevarris pointing to the wizardís leg.
"Gustar. You can call me Gustar, boy. And, yes, the leg is the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time when the storm hit." Gustar looked back to the guild master. "Good work on the wards you set up for the guildhall, Luviros. They appear to have done the job perfectly."
"I have you to thank for the forewarning that something was brewing. I have a feeling this situation would have been a lot worse without the preparation we had."
"You knew this would happen?" blurted Nevarris.
"I certainly had no idea that this amount of destruction would take place," replied Gustar. "But there were definitely signs that an attack was coming."
"An attack? You mean that was not a natural storm?
"Iím afraid not. That storm was formed by someone who is a master at wielding magical power."
"Who would do such a thing?"
"I am not sure yet, but I have a good guess," stated the wizard. "That is why I need to go to Wolfston. I hope to get the answers we need there."
"Gentleman," Master Adrivall interrupted. "I do not want to cut this meeting short, but there are many pressing issues I must attend to, as you can well imagine. Nevarris, see the quartermaster to get the essential supplies for your journey. Gustar," the headmaster turned to the wizard and helped him to his feet, "I want to thank you again for your help. May the sun shine across your path." Adrivall led the two men to the door and then closed it behind them.
"I will get a horse and cart filled with supplies and meet you in the courtyard when the sun is half across." stated Nevarris. "Is there anything else we will need?"
"Our journey may not end at Wolfston," replied Gustar. "You may not be back here for a while, so bring anything that is important to you. I will meet you in two hours." He then turned to leave.
"Gustar?" called Nevarris. "I have been to Wolfston many times and it is not very impressive. What is there that could possibly help you?"
"An old friend," replied the wizard.
Provisions had been hastily purchased. Gutter (who had grown more agitated with each passing minute) urged flight from the city without delay, but Shade knew he had a larger stomach to fill and did not wish to rely on the luck of the hunt to do so. The few coins they had scavenged from the carnage of the alley would not have been able to buy much from the opportunistic merchants. They knew half the storehouses and granaries in the region had been left in ruins by the storm. However, a long look at Shade's craggy alabaster face encouraged more generous dealing.
So now they traveled fast, light, and on foot down the long road to Wolfston. All the hard looks in the world couldn't persuade a hostler even to part with a mule for the pittance they could offer. So Shade set a ground eating pace that the fairy--still bearing the guise of a child--easily matched. Through the fading of afternoon and into the early hours of the night they traveled until finally they gave in to fatigue.
A woolen blanket he had purchased shielding him from the chill air the storm had left in it's wake, Shade bedded down below the towering trees on the soft earth three horse-lengths from the road. Sharpened claws digging easily into the bark, the changeling fairy scampered easily up into the canopy of the tree. He paused to sniff the night air probingly, and stared along the road in each direction for long moments, eyes unfocused. Apparently sensing something that Shade could not, Gutter moved into curious action.
Leaping to the boughs that gave his companion shelter, Gutter bounced and stomped along their length, pulling and pounding on the surrounding branches as well. Shade raised his voice in protest at the shower of leaves and twigs that fell upon him before realizing that the brownie was providing him with a simple but effective camouflage. He had reason to be grateful for it that night as he heard riders travelling down the road, moving steadily but purposefully. Keeping his own lambent eyes closed lest they give him away, Shade felt rather than saw the riders scanning the woods to either side as they rode.
Safely hidden up above, Gutter watched them pass. Armor they wore, and weapons aplenty they carried. But despite the darkness of the moonless night, they carried no torches, nor did their breath steam in the frosty night air. After their passing fairy and Bone Walker both spent a sleepless night listening to the silence left in their wake.
They rose with the sun and moved out at a trot. They did not intend to catch up with the nightriders, but they certainly had no desire to be caught up by any larger group the horsemen might be outriders for. Again they traveled without stopping, eating sparingly and only what they could while on the move. The banked heat of the rage in his belly fueled Shade's muscles; he had no idea what allowed the changeling to keep pace with him in their hours of flight. They met no other travelers and assumed it was the devastation of the storm that had interrupted the flow of trade wagons from one city to the next.
Their long running had left their stomachs with an ache that dried meat and hard biscuits wouldn't sate, and a gasping Gutter had no complaint when his companion suggested they cut into the woods to hunt before the sun had sunk. By dusk they had between them two hares and a handful of eggs. With one hare warming their bellies and a second roasting over the campfire, the two weary companions lounged against a tree trunk cracking eggs into their mouths. Settled and comfortable in a way only the truly weary could be, neither spoke, enjoying the silence of the chilled woods. Then the baying began.
Shade shot to his feet, callused hands drawing his sword by reflex. Gutter grew rigid and then slowly curled in on himself as the keening wails continued. They rose higher and higher in pitch, a razor scraping across the cold slate of the night sky, rising and lowering in volume but always growing closer. "No no no no no no!" the changeling moaned softly while rocking himself gently, a child denying bad dreams. "Not the Hund. Not happening, not happening, not happening!" The last two words came out a savage growl as Gutter's nature pushed itself through the blanket of despair the keening had dropped upon his mind.
"Grab your kit and run, ghost boy!" the ferocious fey commanded as he tossed his own satchel over his shoulder, already moving through the woods at a sprint.
"What on earth is that?" demanded Shade as he fell into step beside the shorter legged changeling.
"Under the earth."
"What?"
"They're from under the earth," shot back Gutter, "and you want them to stay there!" He slid under a fallen tree as Shade hurdled it. "Shut up and run!" On they sped through the darkness of the night, Shade navigating by the blazing light of rising rage within his own eyes and Gutter by the flows of magic and life his fey senses revealed to them. Behind them moved the Hund.
Sleek and black, the domes of their eyeless skulls smooth and hairless, nine hounds of the underkin pursued their quarry with mindless joy. Released into the intoxicating air of the overworld, they had run the woods this long day, wide and flaring nostrils seeking out the scent of biglife. The currents of the evening breezes had carried the scent of the two companions and they gave chase. The ripping claws at the ends of four long legs tore at the earth as they carried glossy skinned bodies through the forests. They were gaining on the biglife.
Over the pounding of their hearts, the two running companions could hear the Hund growing closer. Weíll never outrun them on the ground, thought Gutter. Iíll be wanting my wings back before weíre through. But until then...
"Up into the trees!" he shouted to Shade.
"Itíll take too long to climb," answered the warrior as he dodged around a thick-trunked oak.
"Donít climb. Just run."
"What?"
"Just do it!" demanded Gutter, putting all the power of his will into his words. Reacting without thought to the urgency he heard in that breathless voice, Shade ran straight at the next tree instead of dodging, lifting his leg high into the air and pushing down hard against the bark of the tree with his booted foot. Had he taken time to think, Shade would have expected his ankle to break, his knee to shatter. Instead his thrusting step carried him high into the air, momentum pushing him forward even as he rose. As the trunk of another tree rushed to meet him, Shade "stepped" forward again, and again, rising steadily higher into the heights of the ancient trees until he was running along the thickest of the upper boughs, leaping strides carrying him from tree to tree. How did the brownie know I could do this? he found himself wondering even as he exalted in the rush of the wind in his face and the thrill of this tightrope run. Joy born of freedom and exertion bubbled up through the waters of his rage.
Gutter was not so jubilant. Using claws that sprouted bloodily from hands and feet, he had scrambled like a squirrel into the trees after Shade. His changeling form didnít have Shadeís speed, but its lighter weight let him race along slimmer limbs than the warrior dared try. This trick of his would throw the Hund off their trail for a while, but not long enough. Not nearly long enough. Something else would have to be done to buy them time.
"Catch me, Shade!" he cried as leapt at the warriorís back. Instinct and reflex caused Shade to whirl, arms outstretched to catch a stumbling comrade, legs bracing him to prevent a fall. Gutterís body flew into Shadeís saving embrace and he locked arms and legs around the manís muscular body, promptly sinking sharp claws and needle teeth into white flesh.
Shade screamed from the surprise of the attack rather than from fear. His rage-flooded body felt no pain, nor did blood flow forth: Gutter had to burrow deep with tooth and nail to find the liquid warmth he needed. Spattered redly and slick with blood, Gutter dropped from his companion as Shade drew his blade.
"Why?" asked the man, glaring at Gutter with flickering red eyes.
"Blind. Hunt by scent," gasped Gutter. He was losing control of this form. "Run." With those parting words, he plummeted from the tree, crashing to the ground below. Branches tore at his weakening skin, drawing forth sluggish blood, and the hard roots of tree knocked loose a chunk of flesh from his ribs on impact.
Good, thought Gutter. So much the better. He raced on; forging a path along the ground perpendicular to the one Shade had blazed through the treetops.
Moving through the forest like a frightened fox, Gutter slapped his hands against the rough bark of the trees and the hard surfaces of the rocks, leaving scarlet blazes of his blood mingled with Shadeís. Soon the trail marked against tree and stone was joined by spatters of red on leaf and grass: his skin was starting to crack and fail and blood seeped from ragged fissures in the flesh.
The night striding Hund, temporarily confused by the vanishing scent of the quarry, quickly caught scent of this new trail. The biglife were wounded and wasting their lifedrink. Soon they would be caught, brought to ground, and swallowed in chunks and gobbets. Soon. Soon. Very soon. Just over this rise! The two lead hounds fell on the crumpled body in a rush, each set of jaws tearing into the flesh as they slid to a stop. But something was wrong! It was all flesh! No meat, just an empty sack of skin! The Hund howled their anger and frustration into the night air before resuming the hunt once more.
Freed of the suit of flesh he had worn for too long, Gutter sped along in his rightful form, dragonfly wings flashing once more from his tiny back. Small as his wings were, they would be more than enough to catch up with his fleet-footed companion. His plan had worked and the Hund had been thrown off their trail. But for how long? He pushed his straining wings harder.
Nose buried in a book, reading by the faint morning light, Gustar did not hear the baying of the Hund until the cart rocked to a halt. Looking up, he saw Nevarris standing--muscles tensed, reins clenched in his fist--staring back down the road. They had risen before first light and hundreds of yards behind them the road led back into the woods they had left with dawn's rising.
Nevarris had been happy to see the prairie as they broke from the woods. It had been a welcome relief to be free of the dark and towering trees at last. Now he felt too exposed: no shelter, no safety. Judging by the sound of those howls, they'd need it soon.
"Should we perhaps get moving?" questioned the wizard. "That certainly does not sound like anything I wish to meet."
"No." Nevarris shook his head slowly. "This is a work cart, not a racing chariot" He pointed at the two geldings in their braces, "And those are work horses, not thoroughbreds. Best to stand our ground and meet whatever comes out of those woods on our terms: face to face, not with it running up our backsides while we run like panicked sheep."
The wizard nodded, "As you wish. It would be foolish to have requested your protection and then ignore your advice." He pushed his sleeves back and stood as well. "I'll aid you in whatever way I can." Nevarris had already climbed into the back of the wagon, kneeling as he grabbed a longbow and readied a quiver of arrows, eyes searching the woods for approaching beasts. So intently was he scanning the base of the lofty trees that he almost missed the bone white figure that shot from their lofty canopy.
It soared through the air and Nevarris took it at first to be a tremendous bird. But he soon saw it was a man, limbs windmilling as he arced through the air and began his earthward plummet. He hit the ground in a tumbling roll that should have left him a broken pile of meat and bone. Instead, after sliding and rolling several yards, he came up on both feet and was running straight at the cart. Sighting down the length of his arrow, Nevarris saw that some strange bird or large insect was following closely after the alabaster figure. He would worry about the bug after he had dropped the juggernaut sprinting this way.
"No! WaitÖ" cried Gustar, placing a restraining hand on Nevarris' shoulder. "Look to the trees!"
Still keeping his aim, the former thief shifted his focus to woods, and quickly realized that the runner was the pursued, not the pursuer. "Dear godsÖ" Nine jet black hounds, each the size of small horse, were tearing out of the woods, baying in rage and delight.
"I do believe," remarked Gustar, "that those are the creatures we should be concerning ourselves with."
Even as he spoke, both hunters and hunted were closing the distance to the cart. Nevarris released shaft after shaft from his bow, each arrow striking home. If either he or Gustar noticed that shafts, which seemed wide of the mark swerved into their targets at the last moment, neither commented. Despite several solid hits on five of the hounds, only one had fallen. "This is not good."
Above him, Gustar was gesticulating and mumbling words that made Nevarris' ears swim. As the last guttural syllable passed his lips, the wizard thrust his hands forward, pointing fingers spread. Glistening shards of ice flew forth in a wide and shimmering cloud. Passing too close over the runner's head, blood erupted in a fine red mist as six of the pack went down in pieces.
"Damnation!" snarled Gustar. "That was supposed to be a sheet of glare ice to slow them. I never seem to get that one right!"
"Close enough," growled Nevarris with a grin. Four arrows flew, two hounds dropped, one leapt and both men braced to see the runner fall beneath it.
Instead, the white skinned man dropped into a sliding crouch, drawing and slashing in one liquid motion. As the hound passed overhead the blade bit deep and traveled the length of the belly as the leap carried it forward. The beast's guts hit the grass before its corpse did.
There was a moment of silence as the white warrior stood, wiping his blade on the sleeve of his sweat-soaked shirt before sheathing it again. "My thanks," was all he managed to say before collapsing into exhausted unconsciousness. The "bug" Nevarris had spotted earlier alighted on the supine warrior and turned out to be a feral-looking, half-foot tall figure with an insect's shimmering wings. The tiny man peeled back the swordsman's eyelids and peered into his glazed eyes before sighing and turning to the stunned Gustar and Nevarris.
"Well," chirped Gutter Slitquick. "I suppose this means introductions are up to me."