The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - 2020 - Part 14

The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga - Part 14

"This I do not like," Ivo said looking back the way they'd come.

"Yes," Telenstil agreed speaking slowly, "both our scouts are gone."

"I've heard you both say the same before and it came to naught," Harold said, "I'm going to find Harald, you stay here and wait for Ghibelline." The halfling turned aside and gestured to Little Rat to follow.

"Wait, Harold, Wait," Telenstil called after him. To his surprise the halfling stopped. "We will go, but I will not abandon Ghibelline or Harald."

"You will have us split again," said Ivo.

"No, we will search for Harald first then for Ghibelline," Telenstil told them all.

"No, Telenstil, we cannot leave Ghibelline," Gytha objected.

"Ghibelline may be well," said Telenstil, "he works to hide our trail, but Harald should have come back, something is wrong there."

"I will go back and find him," Gytha said firmly.

"Gytha, no," Telenstil looked her in the eye. "We may need you. If there is something wrong we would lose you as well. We will not abandon Ghibelline...."

"We are, Telenstil, we are," she said regretfully. "Let us be gone then, I will not abandon Harald as well."

* * *

Stillness: A slight breeze that ran across the denuded woods and raised a small dancing ghost of shredded leaves, then stillness again. Ghibelline did not move. Time passed, he worried that he was too long away from the others, but the feeling that something watched, something followed; that feeling was strong. His only cover was the thickness of the brush, but it was enough. Something stirred, the debris were furrowed by its passage.

At first Ghibelline could not make out what it was, all that appeared was a depression where branches were pushed down and a stirring of the leaves that were driven aside. Then as it came near he could see the scales, translucent but tinged with red. A fanged head turned and looked at him, a tongue split like a two-pronged fork shot out and seemed to taste the air and then it turned away.

Ghibelline launched himself from behind the bush, his sword drawn, slashing at the long and sinuous neck.

* * *

"It just looks dark to me," said Talberth.

"There is light enough," Ivo told him, "I've spent too much time under the sun of late."

"The orcs are eager to get away from the light as well," Talberth looked back at the small group waiting behind him.

Telenstil went ahead with Harold and Little Rat, they showed him where the found the hole clawed through the stone floor, all three stood above the shaft and talked of what to do.

"It's an easy climb," said Harold. "I'll go first, he'll follow," he said pointing to the young orc.

"Cool here," said Little Rat, "let's go."

"Wait a moment," Telenstil said, "I will have the others come up. We will need a rope to lower Derue."

"Better just to leave him up here," said Harold. "It'll be harder getting him back up."

"We need to watch him, and we need a place where we can leave him safely," Telenstil looked down the shaft. "This may prove a convenient spot, a temporary prison."

"I'm for getting rid of him," Harold agreed.

"I am hoping to cure him of this curse," chided Telenstil. "Wait here, I will bring up the others." 

***

Ghibelline's sword slashed through scales and then on through a neck as thick as the trunk of a tree. It passed with no resistance, the only sign that it had struck the monstrous snake was a crackle of red, a glowing line like a coal split open on a fire showing its blazing heart. The fanged mouth lunged, it bit at Ghibelline's arm, and as the sword had passed through the snake's body, the teeth passed through the elf's arm. Ghibelline felt a jolt as if lightning had struck nearby, his arm throbbed and a burning pain made him draw in his breath with a sudden hiss, he almost dropped his sword.

His blade was just an old longsword used by the bugbears of the steading, taken from some human warrior or bought from a merchant years ago. It had seen hard use, but had been kept sharp and oiled; no rusted orcish blade.

Ghibelline stabbed the snake, drove the point down into its head and buried a good foot of steel in the oerth. There was another crackle of red, but no feel of flesh or bone; the sword did not bite, only moved like an arrow through a cloud of smoke. The snake pulled back its head drifting through the steel like it wasn't there, but a line of red showed where the edge had cut. For a moment the skull split in two, flapping open wide then it pulled together in a flare. Ghibelline drew his blade from the oerth and dove into a roll. A pair of fangs snapped at the air where his face had been and Ghibelline swung, the sword passed through its head again. There was another flash of red but it did not slow the beast. The elf rolled clear and sprang to his feet.

There was no stopping the monster Ghibelline decided, not with ordinary steel. He ran to warn the others from a fight he knew that he could not win. Behind him he heard a hiss like white hot iron quenched in water and the crunch of branches but he did not look back.

* * *

The skittering was all around him, left and right, front and back. The ranger moved forward waving his torch before him but as he fought back the dark the noise retreated as well. As the light was carried away the black filled in the space and the sound of claws on stone joined in with the dark. 

Harald moved away from the center of the hall, at first he went toward the sound, but when he neared the source it disappeared and began again to his side, joined by another behind him. He swirled around expecting to catch whatever made the noise as it clawed for his back, but there was nothing, no attack, just the noise. Soon he was surrounded by the sound of scratching claws; the noise was just beyond the edge of light cast by his small torch. A wave of anger came over him, Harald swept his sword through the air, swung it in a circle around him, but neither the light nor his blade caught what made the sound.

Harald paused, he leaned on his sword letting the tip settle within a crack of the tile beneath his feet, and he laughed. "Come then!" he yelled, his voice echoed in the ancient hall. "Can you do nothing but make that noise! Bah! I have wasted enough time."

The hall went silent; the sound of claws, the scratching on the stones came to a sudden halt. Harald began to march across the floor, he had a sense of direction that would put a dwarf or elf to shame, and made for the passage leading out. And then his torch went out and the skittering noise erupted once again.

"Hells!" Harald cursed.

* * *

"Ahh!" Little Rat exclaimed with pleasure. "Nice here."

Harold shook his head. The bottom of the shaft was dank, there was an animal smell, and a thick must, and a faint scent of something burnt. A torch had been lit, the ranger, Harold had no doubt. There was a scrabbling sound from above, a few pebbles mixed with dust fell on their heads and pinged against the floor. The pair backed away and soon the old gnome stood beside them.

"You're getting sloppy Ivo or did you knock that dust down on purpose?" asked Harold lightly.

"Wasn't me," Ivo brushed at his own shoulders and hair, "Telenstil is sending Derue down next on a rope."

"He has a lot of faith that everything is safe down here," said Harold.

"I think he is just eager to get out of sight," Ivo replied. "Any sign of Harald?"

"I smell a torch freshly lit," said Harold.

Ivo sniffed the air and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I can smell the burning pitch," the old gnome inhaled deeply and walked a few steps forward. He bent and put his finger to the ground then went to a wall and examined the fragments of murals now fallen almost all to dust. "Human, work, old...very old. These claw marks are fresh."

Harold glanced down at the tiles and shuddered. "Well we know what made those marks don't we."

Behind them another fall of dust and rock showered down as Derue, still bound, was lowered down the shaft, but far ahead they heard a bellow, a loud curse then a wild roar.

"I know that sound!" cried Harold. "That's our ranger! Come on! I think he needs our help!" The halfling pelted down the hall; he drew his long knife as he ran.

"Wait!" yelled Little Rat. "Wait for me!" the small orc held a rusty knife of his own and pulled another from his belt before chasing after the thief.

Ivo said nothing but fished in his vest and belt for the components of a spell. He pulled a metal sphere from his pack then, quickly, but much slower than the younger pair, ran toward the roaring voice and the clangs of steel on stone that echoed down the hall. 

***

The line went slack; the orcs let it drop and without a word began to climb down the shaft.

"Telenstil?" asked Talberth, "They've lowered Derue, do you want them to go next?"

"That work is finished, yes let them proceed," nodded Telenstil. "You go after, Gytha and I will follow."

"Waiting for Ghibelline?" Talberth looked at Gytha who stared out into the woods. "Don't wait too long; we may need you down there."

"Do not worry," said Telenstil, "we will not delay. We will find Harald then we will find Ghibelline."

* * *

The rustling of the snake faded behind him, it could not match the pace of a running elf. Ahead the trail curved slightly following a depression along the hill, the melting winter ice had carved it out over many springs. Ghibelline flitted over the shredded leaves and brambles, he barely left a trail. His feet seemed to skim across the ground touching the oerth only lightly as he raced along. Only a few minutes at his furious pace brought him to the ravine. A wave of relief washed over him, he looked to Gytha first, but was almost as happy to see Telenstil standing just behind.

* * *

"Gytha!" Ghibelline called out. He ran to the cleric and held her by her arm, she returned the clasp and they stood for a moment till she smiled. Ghibelline frowned and looked over her shoulder at Telenstil. He broke his grip, he had his sword drawn in his free hand and turned to face the way he'd come and spoke. "Some kind of snake, but my sword could not hurt it. It will be here soon."

"What did this snake look like?" asked Telenstil, coming up and standing near to the edge of the wood.

"I couldn't see it at first," said Ghibelline a little wildly, "I could see the leaves being moved, but not what moved them. Then when it was directly across from where I was waiting I could just make it out. Telenstil, my sword passed through, it was like fighting air!"

"An illusion perhaps," Telenstil thought aloud.

Ghibelline held up his sword arm and showed the red welts where the snake had bitten him. "Do these look like illusions!"

"I have seen men bleed from the touch of an image," Telenstil said kindly, "it is possible."

"The thing was real, I saw the tracks and the steel did cut it!" the young elf exclaimed. "The cuts seemed to burn but they closed instantly and there was nothing there to stop my sword, I ran."

"Good, you warned us, if it comes we will see how my magic fares against it," said Telenstil.

"Something comes, Telenstil, I feel something evil!" Gytha cried.

* * *

Teeth and needle claws, Harald felt at least a dozen stabs and bites, but they barely pricked his skin. He could hear the tearing of his clothes, small bodies jumped upon his back, climbed his legs, attacked his booted feet. A horde of rats he thought. Harald stamped and crushed one underfoot, he ran his sword across the floor, sweeping the edge back and forth, but he could not see them, and if he killed one, two more seemed to take its place. Something slashed him across his face, bit a small chunk from one ear, dug claws into the back of his neck. He felt another climb atop his head. With one hand he began to pull them from his body. Harald stumbled forward, nearly falling as each step crunched down, they carpeted the floor. All the while he screamed and cursed the little beasts, they were killing him by inches, scratching and clawing at his skin. His pants were being shredded, they climbed over his mail shirt and sought out his head and face, one cut him lightly across the throat; he grabbed the handful of fur, teeth and bones and squeezed out its life with one hand.

***

The thief sprinted down the long passageway, the ranger's voice was just ahead, loud screams and roars and a steady stream of curses. Harold watched as his friend, the ranger, bounced from wall to wall, his clothes seemed to move by themselves; he looked like he was wearing a heavy coat of fur and plucked at it with one hand.

"Rats!" Harold yelled. "He's covered with rats!"

"Tasty!" Little Rat called back, the young orc scraped one knife blade against another and licked his lips.

Harold closed on the ranger, the big man had dropped his sword and pressed one arm across his eyes, the thief could see small bodies hanging along it from elbow to back of hand. His knife slashed across the ranger's chest; two of the small beasts were cut in twain; the edge rang against the links of mail. He cut again and again slashing back and forth; the small orc joined him but fought the rushing tide of bodies which replaced the fallen.

"Get 'em off me!" the ranger cried out desperately. He used both hands to brush them from his head and chest, then grabbed others, smashed them into the wall or dashed them to the ground.

* * *

Little Rat danced among the waves of furry bodies in a frenzy of stabs and slashes. A small mouth bit his chin and he bit back, then spit out the body. "This no rat!" he yelled, but the other two did not reply.

Harald brushed a dozen of the creatures from his arms and legs then reached out and grabbed hold of the thief, then lifted up the small orc in his other arm. Taking huge strides he began to run, but he did not get far. The ranger was blind in the utter black; first he crashed hard against a wall then stepped on two of the little beasts. His foot slipped to the side and he fell, coming down hard on the knee of his other leg. He might have shattered the bone but a half-dozen small bodies took the blow instead. All three were sent sprawling across the ground, the furry wave swallowed them and they were gone. 

***

"I do not see..." Telenstil began, but stopped as he caught sight of the trail left by the snake. "Yes, I see the trail but I do not see this snake."

"I see it," said Gytha. "I know it well."

"You have seen this type of creature before?" asked Ghibelline. The elf held his sword so tight that his knuckles whitened from the grip. He felt a touch of fear as the creature approached, the wounds on his arm began to throb.

"You have seen it before, and you Telenstil," she told them. "It has grown, but it is what attacked me when I healed Derue, the evil is the same, you do not feel it, do not see it?"

"I see only the path it leaves," said Telenstil, "it nears."

"I do not see it either," Ghibelline rubbed at his arm. "I feel it though, where it struck me."

"Ghibelline, stand here," Gytha pointed with the iron staff she held to a place beside her, "I will ask the Saint for his blessing and protection."

The elf stepped forward and stood next to her, Gytha set her iron staff into the ground and took his hand in her own then reached out and put her other hand on Telenstil's. "Oh pure of heart and strong of arm, bless those gathered here to fight the spirit of evil which comes upon us," she released them and held up her hands, a wind, refreshing and cool, blew over them. With her iron staff Gytha traced a circle in the dirt around Ghibelline then looked up toward the sky. "Sainted one, you have blessed us all, protect this warrior with special care, he has fought the evil sent forth against us, your strength has touched him, let your spirit protect him!" A circle of white erupted around the elf; it shot up from the ground and wrapped him in its brilliance. Ghibelline felt the pain lessen in his arm, the venomous heat was gone, though the wound still stung. A sense of rest and strength settled on him and a feeling that the light had suffused his skin, protecting him from the evil that approached.

"I see it now!" cried out Ghibelline, he could see the edges of the scales, the fangs, the glowing eyes, red and molten in the serpentine skull. The body of the snake was still translucent, he could see clear through, but the monster was a net of shimmering lines of fire, no substance inbetween.

"Yes, let me see if my magic can hold it in place," said Telenstil. He drew out a small bar of steel and with it traced a pattern of blue fire in the air. "Zeiz! Zeiz! Zeiz!" he intoned and threw the steel bar at the snake. It flashed far across the clearing and exploded in a cloud of blue sparks that made the serpent jump and thrash like a fish trying to break the line which held it.

* * *

Everyone had run off. Halfknife could hear shouting from further up the passage but could not see where the others had gone. Someone was climbing down the wall; the human with the magic stick, Halfknife shuddered. The giants he understood, big ones always ruled while the smaller ones obeyed, but magic, the stuff the old shamans had used always frightened him. It frightened the Boss as well, they could all see it. The orc gave the human baggage a kick while he had the chance. "No sword now," Halfknife gave a barking laugh, "you stew-meat waiting for the pot."

Brokenhand laughed as well and drew back his foot, but Boss gave him a slap, then glared at Halfknife. "Save it," he told them. "Where did the little ones go?"

"They ran up there," Meatstealer pointed up the hall.

Boss took a few steps walking slowly perhaps to follow, but the shouting made him pause, then the screams began.

* * *

A thousand sparks of red and blue shot from the snake. They burned like the spray from a blacksmith's anvil as white hot metal was hammered into form. Telenstil felt the power of his spell disappear, the snake had overcome the magic force that would have held it frozen for a time.

"It's mad now," said Ghibelline.

Telenstil grimaced and held out his hand, "Noituus Istaa," he said and sent out five magic bolts. They flew toward the snake and struck it, leaving blotches of red where the scales were burnt and broken.

"Magic can hurt it," Ghibelline said relieved.

"Az-Trappa!" Telenstil replied. He took a step and pushed Ghibelline to one side then threw a small crystal toward the snake. The magic lightning boomed, the flash left an afterglow on their eyes, but the bolt passed through the snake, it bathed it for a moment, but to no effect. A tree, scarred deeply by the gibberlings, stripped of bark from roots to five or more feet high up its bole, it received the fury of the unnatural electric bolt and split, the bole smoking, half the tree falling with a crash to the ground.

"Cast another spell!" urged Ghibelline. "If I had my tome..." he cursed. The giants had taken his weapons, his pack and all he possessed. He had been skilled more with magic than with the sword, but without his book to study or even the components for his spells his skills as a warrior were all that he could use.

The snake skimmed across the ground, the magic bolts had stung it, the lightning had healed its hurt. The touch of steel had been no more than an inconvenience, but now it was refreshed. It had not been badly hurt by the magic darts, the lightning would have healed a much more grievous wound; it brimmed with the strength the spell imparted when it struck.

"Saint give us strength," Gytha prayed, "Saint strike our foe," she held out her iron staff, "Saint aid us now!" she struck the staff against the ground. A wave of force rolled out from the spot where the iron touched the ground. Like a stone hitting the still surface of a pond the power rippled out in all directions.

Telenstil and Ghibelline felt as if an arm steadied them and gave them strength, while the snake was rolled like a barrel loose on the deck of a ship wracked by a storm. 

***

Boss walked backwards, away from the screaming down the passage, his legs struck the body of Derue and he fell. Below him the bound man gave a grunt as Boss landed on him then Derue began to writhe. He twisted, throwing the orc from his back, slammed both legs down across Boss's middle and kicked him with both feet like a mule, smashing the orc in the face. Blood spurted from a split lip and a broken nose and Boss was spun against a wall. Pulling his knees to his chest Derue slid his bound hands down his legs and over his feet. Still stretched out on the floor he leaned on his shoulder and swung his legs around sweeping Halfknife off his feet, but both Meatstealer and Brokenhand set on him before he could rise.

The orcs had weapons but they used their feet, not from any restraint, though they had been ordered many times to keep the scout alive. They lashed out, rough hoary feet thudding into ribs, a jagged toenail cut a deep gash over Derue's eye, Meatstealer heard a bone snap and a whoosh of air forced from the scout's throat. Derue blocked a second kick to his creaking ribs, ducked below Brokenhand's next blow and struck Meatstealer's knee as the orc drew back to kick again. The orc hopped back and Derue turned himself and kicked back at Brokenhand. Stars and sparks danced before his eyes, Halfknife had kicked Derue from behind smacking his head like a child would kick a ball.

Boss rose groggily from where he had rolled, Meatstealer rubbed at his knee then joined the others. Soon all four orcs had encircled Derue, their legs pumped back and forth as they pummeled him with their feet.

At the shaft entrance Talberth dropped to the floor. He wore an enchanted amulet around his neck that shined with a perpetual light. In the glow he had climbed down the wall, trusting his sight more than his sense of touch. "Hey!" he yelled at the orcs. "What is going on! Get away! Get Away!" Talberth took the wand from the forearm sheath he wore and fingered the runes that glowed silver in the dark.

The light from the amulet made them start, then step back from the body of the scout, the wand brought out a fear that had grown within them, first planted as the giants' slaves.

* * *

Ivo's breath was heavy in his chest. He was getting old, even for a gnome. He'd been old before the human mage Talberth had been born, old when the ranger had been only a boy. Gnomes did not have the sheer bulk and strength of a dwarf, but they all possessed a wiry endurance. He drew upon all the energy in his old frame and ran. There were shouts ahead and some screams of pain, a bellow of rage, it made Ivo lurch into a quicker pace, but he was much slower than the halfling and Little Rat. He came upon them just as the ranger fell headlong sprawling across the ground, all three were buried under the furry wave.

It was no weapon he held in his hand, no base component for a spell, just a common gnomish tool. He opened the metal ball and twisted it apart. A small lump of stone fell out, enchanted like the amulet which Talberth wore, it shined with light. A small sun erupted in the dark, a squeal of shock burst out, a thousand tiny voices screamed and the carpet of fur and tooth and claw went still.

* * *

"As I thought," Ivo said smugly. He nudged a curled circle of fur with his foot, it appeared to be dead. Immediately his thoughts went to his friends, "Harold! Harald!" he called out.

The ranger groaned and shook a covering of the little beasts from off of his back and legs, beside him Harold jumped to his feet and flung a pair of small bodies against the wall. The halfling kicked some aside and cursed the others where they lay. Blood streamed from dozens of tiny cuts and bites, painting the halfling red. The ranger was washed by the flow from his owns wounds, he'd saved his eyes but his hands and arms were a patchwork of torn and bitten flesh.

Harold appeared dazed, he looked with wild eyes first at Harald then at Ivo. His chest heaved with relief, he still lived; he'd thought for certain that he would not survive. "Where is the orc?"

* * *

There was a screech, a sharp sparking sound like the teeth of a saw striking a nail hidden in a plank of wood. The snake opened its mouth, its tongue sticking out, its head swaying back and forth, it wailed.

Ghibelline gritted his teeth against the sound, clamped his jaw shut and launched himself at the beast. His sword gleamed with a nimbus of gold, an edge of spiritual energy that coated the mere sharpened steel. A line of fire burst forth where his sword cut the sinewy body, his blow still swept through the snake's translucent flesh but this time there was resistance. The shining red lines of the scales snapped and some did not rejoin as they had before. The fanged mouth ceased its noise, its body shuddered briefly at the wound, and its head came whipping down.

Ghibelline dived aside, but the snake brushed his shoulder and rolled him over. He slipped when he tried to rise. His sword shot up and grazed the creature's chin, the mouth closed with a chomp then opened in a sharpfanged grin. A knife slashed it just below its eye; the blade shone blue and sent a fiery burst of red where it cut the snake deeply atop its mouth. The beast jumped back, the serpent twisted in the air and scurried back from the glowing blade. There was a pause, the snake held back, drops of molten red dripping from its wound, they struck the air and smoked, disappearing in a cloud before they touched the ground.

Ghibelline scurried to his feet and as he did he heard the mage cast a spell.

"Koova-Lazi!" Telenstil called out. He blurred and seemed to come apart, and then there were six Telenstil's facing the snake with glowing knives of blue. He charged the beast and all five images followed suit.

Fangs pierced the magic veil, as Ghibelline's sword had passed through the snake before the blessing of the Saint, so the serpent met with no resistance and in a blur the image disappeared. A knife licked out, Telenstil and his four surviving duplicates all struck at once, but only one was real. A long line of red was drawn along the scales, the snake's body twitched in pain. Ghibelline rushed to join the fray; he first chopped its tail, the nearest portion of the beast. The sword cut it like a sausage beneath the edge of a hungry man's knife, the tail burned with flame, the gaping wound glowed with light like the heart of a fire.

* * *

Gytha had not been idle while the others fought. She bent down on her knees and prayed. The iron staff felt cool against her face, she spoke softly, implored the Saint for strength, and more than strength. Evil flowed from the snake, it coursed through its veins instead of blood, filled the venom sacks behind its fangs with a wickedness incarnate. This was no mere oerthly beast, no creature formed of magic; it was a denizen of Hell. Some vile serpent summoned to this plane by dark ritual and sacrifice. "Power!" Gytha asked from the Saint. She stood and raised her head.

Telenstil took a fearsome blow, the sight made her gasp, but the hissing serpent fanged an empty shell. Another image of the mage blurred into a haze and disappeared. Ghibelline gave the snake a glancing wound, his sword did little but the nimbus of gold ate into the transparent flesh like acid and left an oozing, smoking trail across the serpent's scales. The snake caught his arm, its fangs passing through his flesh harmlessly but the venom scored him deep. The elf cried out, his sword fell from a numbed grip and he collapsed.

"No!" Gytha yelled. "Go back to Hell!" she screamed at the snake and swung the iron staff, once a giant's kitchen skewer, but now a blessed weapon of her patron Saint. The metal pulsed. It struck the snake dead on and crushed its skull like a bug beneath a heel.

There was an explosion of red, Telenstil flung an arm before his eyes, a fireball he thought, but there was no heat. The mage could see the bones clearly through an arm whose flesh was redly lit, then a flash of white that made him blink. There was a crack like old wood snapping beneath the sun, then a whoosh, a sudden gust of air tugged at him, he threw down his arm. A hole had opened in the world, a rent no bigger than a robin's egg. It sucked in the broken remnants of the snake, stretching it long and thin, pulling in a stream of air that stirred the leaves like a hurricane. Debris danced and twisted around this hole till even the severed bit of tail was gone and then it closed with a plop like the bursting of a bubble on a pool of mud. 

***

"Little Rat! What's the matter with you!" yelled Harold.

The young orc staggered to his feet. He spat out the severed half of one of the small furry beasts and coughed. "It bite, I bite back, taste pretty bad," he said and spit out a clump of skin and fur. "I feel sick," he put both hands to his head. "Room not stand still." he leaned against the wall then slid down.

"What's the matter, what's the matter..." Harold said nervously and bent beside the orc.

Ivo knelt there too and put his hand to the orc's head, it came away soaked with blood. "We had better get him bandaged quickly; he is bleeding, too much..."

"We'd better get Gytha..." Harold insisted.

Ivo pulled out a length of cloth and handed it to the thief. "Bandage first, he is hurt very badly. Here," the gnome pulled out a jar from his pack and opened up a metal lid, the threads grinding against the glass. "Put some of this on him. Take two fingers worth. I want some for Harald as well."

"Magic salve?" asked the thief.

"It will help him heal," Ivo replied. "Two fingers, come now, the ranger looks unsteady too."

Harold glanced over at his friend and saw him sway then put a hand against the wall to keep himself upright. The halfling put his fingers in the jar and scooped up two fingers worth of the healing goo, it felt cool and tingling on his hand then he smeared it across the young orc's face and chest. Little Rat sighed and his eyes opened.

Ivo snatched the jar away and picked a careful trail across the carpet of furry beasts. The creatures were harmless in the light, so he did not fear attack, but he cared for the jar of healing salve and his own balance across the monster-carpeted floor.

"Hold still I'm going to put some salve on your arm," Ivo tugged at the ranger's tattered sleeve.

"What?" asked Harald groggily.

"Sit down, you humans are too tall."

The ranger sank down much as the orc had, letting his back scrape against the wall. Ivo used a portion of the salve just on the ranger's face and neck. His ears were notched like the tattered ends of a ragcloth book. The salve mingled with the drying blood and went to work. Harald gave a groan from deep within his chest then shook his head to clear it. The gnome emptied the jar rubbing salve into both of the ranger's arms. There were many wounds and the jar was small, some cuts healed and some deeper wounds as well, but many more remained.

"Gibberlings," said Harald. He held a tiny body in his hand. The creature was dead; it hung limply like a child's doll.

"Yes, as I thought, though I've never seen their young before," Ivo said with keen interest in the tiny beast.

* * *

"He seems stunned," said Telenstil.

Gytha knelt by Ghibelline and brushed back the hair which overhung his eyes. It was a ragged golden-brown, cut short by his captors when they found him and growing back, unkempt and long, since then.

"I have prayed for him," Gytha smiled, "the evil has fled his body. He will heal; the Saint has helped in that." She looked up at Telenstil her smile fading and a serious expression now on her face. "I ask for the Saint's grace more and more it seems. I feel closer to him, lighter, so much of his strength has passed through me that the weight which burdened my spirit is gone."

"I am glad to hear that," said Telenstil, "We will need your strength, more than I had imagined. They will be worrying, can we move Ghibelline?"

"Yes, but carefully," Gytha put her hand under the elf's arm, "Take his other side." she said to Telenstil.

They lifted him, he was not heavy. Ghibelline was thin, his muscles flat and wiry. He had never been fat and his time spent in the dungeon of the giants had stripped away any surplus flesh leaving just muscle and bone covered with a stretch of skin. His head nodded back and forth, his chin bouncing against his chest as they half-carried half-dragged him within the ravine.

"We'd better stop," Gytha said as they stepped into the dark, "I cannot see."

"My apologies," said Telenstil, "I forgot that you do not have the sight."

"I do have a torch. Hold him for a moment while I get it from my pack," Gytha shifted Ghibelline so that Telenstil held him beneath both arms then realized that her pack was gone. "Can you hold him for a moment? I've left my pack behind."

"I can hold him," said Telenstil, "do not worry I am strong enough for that. Gytha I will take him, you go find your pack, come back with a torch."

"Be careful,"

"I will. Find your pack and his sword."

Telenstil carried Ghibelline away down the sloping trail into the dark. Gytha ran sprinting back to the woods to find her pack, her staff and Ghibelline's fallen sword. 

***

"They are just the same as the adults, only smaller," Ivo marveled as he examined the slain gibberling he'd taken from the ranger's hand.

"They act just like the adults," growled Harald. "My torch went out then they attacked."

"This may be the cause of the herds migration," Ivo said holding the small body on the palm of his hand and raising it level with his eyes.

"That is a leap," said Harald, "you may be right, but who knows? Who has found their young before?"

"Only us," Ivo said with wonder.

"Our luck is holding then," the halfling broke in. "All bad."

"I feel lucky enough to still be breathing," said Harald. The ranger wrapped his legs with strips of cloth. He'd cut his cloak apart, Ivo did not have enough bandages to cover all his wounds.

"What are we going to do with these?" Harold kicked a gibberling pup. It was curled into a tight ball hiding from the light of the enchanted stone. "It's going to take some work to kill them all."

"I'll have to find a way to preserve a body or two," mused Ivo.

Harold nudged another pup with his toe. "What do you think their worth?" he asked casually.

"They are priceless," Ivo replied.

"Priceless..." Harold murmured back thougtfully.

* * *

"Back away! Back away!' Talberth warned the orcs. The mage's face was eerily underlit by the glowing amulet he wore, his expression was demonic. The shadow of the wand he held was huge as it was projected against the wall, it terrified the orcs. Their weapons clanged to the floor and they backed themselves empty-handed into the corner of the room.

Talberth had thought he'd heard yelling from the far passage, but the orcs' noise had drowned it out. Now that they'd stopped their vile cursing the chamber had fallen into silence. Talberth's shouted commands faded into the dark that surrounded the light of his amulet. The mage bent and put his hand beneath the scout's nose but kept his eye upon the orcs and kept the dweomered wand pointed in their direction. He felt a slight stirring of air, he shifted his hand to the scout's chest, its rise and fall could barely be felt, but it was there as well as the steady beating of Derue's heart

* * *

Harold casually searched where the ranger had lain for the empty jar of salve. It wouldn't hold much, not a complete body, but he could save one the little gibberlings' heads. If the whole was priceless perhaps the head would be worth a fortune by itself, he thought.

"Harold," Ivo called, "go see what is keeping the others. Find Gytha at least, Harald is still injured."

"I'm fine," the ranger objected.

"You are not," Ivo replied. "And no more of such lies. Harold go, go..." Ivo shooed away the thief waving both his hands. "And take the orc with you!"

Harold shook his head in regret; he would have to think of a way to save one of the bodies of the giberling pups. Walking past the young orc he did not need to signal or say a word, Little Rat fell in behind. 

***

"I will have to climb down and fetch the rope," Telenstil said.

Ghibelline was waking but he seemed to be in a daze. The elf tried to sit up, but his arm slipped on the stone and his head fell back; he had Telenstil's cloak rolled up as a pillow beneath him, it saved him from a nasty bruise.

There was a sputtering torch in Gytha's hand, she'd come back laden with her hands full, Ghibelline's sword tucked beneath her belt. She walked awkwardly, the edge sawing at the leather band around her waist; she'd never used a sword and did not like them, even just to carry a few yards.

"I'll stay," she said, "I don't think he will be able to manage the climb till he has slept and rested, he is healed but weak."

"The adventuring life," smiled Telenstil, "I should be growing fat with a gaggle of apprentices to do the work."

"Never," Gytha smiled too. "You are much too active."

"It is the curiosity," said Telenstil, "there is always something new to learn." the mage swung himself over the edge of the shaft and nimbly began to climb. "I will be right back." he called as his head dropped out of sight.

Gytha was already sitting beside the injured elf. She reached behind him as he struggled to sit once more and helped him with her hand across his shoulders.

"I'm alive," he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"You saved me," Ghibelline stated sure that it was true. "I should be dead, that snake, the venom... thank you."

* * *

The glow from the mage's amulet drifted like a will o' wisp, the dark surrounding it seemed like a living thing down here with a presence and body that fought against the light. Talberth caught a glimmer coming from somewhere far ahead. He knew that it must be the others; at least he hoped that it was them.

"Sit, sit down," he barked out at the orcs.

They hesitated but then complied. There was a noise from behind, someone coming down the shaft.

"Gytha!" he called, "Telenstil!"

"Yes," came a voice, "it is I." Telenstil climbed slowly down. He moved with care and grace but breathed with a deep rise and fall of his chest. A sheen of sweat covered his brow.

"Telenstil, thank goodness," Talberth said with relief. "The orcs, they were beating Derue."

"How is he?" asked Telenstil. He moved quickly over to where the scout lay motionless on the floor.

"He lives," said Talberth, "for now."

"Ghibelline is injured, though Gytha has prayed for healing," Telenstil said, though he spoke partly to himself, "we do call upon her strength more and more."

"What do we do with these orcs?" asked Talberth.

"Why did they attack him?" Telenstil answered with another question.

"I didn't ask," Talberth replied drolly, "they're orcs; that is reason enough."

"There you are!" a voice piped out of the darkness. Harold came walking quickly into the light. "Where have you been!" he demanded.

"I was wondering the same thing," Talberth replied.

"We were almost killed!" Harold snapped back.

"What's going on?" he asked, noticing the orcs for the first time then the wand in Talberth's hand.

"Harold," Telenstil caught the attention of the thief, "you are bleeding; are you badly hurt? How are the others?"

The halfling put his hand to his face and for the first time felt the wounds he had suffered from the gibberling young. Small cuts still sent trickles through the drying mask of blood that covered his face. His arms and hands began to sting and he noticed the growing spots of blood soaking through his torn and tattered clothes.

"Hey!" he exclaimed surprised. His eyes rolled back and showed their whites. Harold pitched over backwards collapsing like a scarecrow taken from its standing pole. Little Rat leapt to him but couldn't catch the falling thief in time.