A strange sound echoed around the clearing, as if a hundred of the Spore Bearers hissed as one, yet, still none of the creatures passed the barrier. Tiera shook her head, telling him nothing changed. Once again, he flexed his hand, the fingers too stiff to hold the sword tight enough. Raising Notch, he pulled back his arm and swung towards the trumpet flute. It wouldn't cause much damage, he only wanted to know what would happen. The hissing rose in volume and, even from a distance, he saw the creatures back away from the edge of the clearing. He stopped his swing before hitting the flute.
"Why did you stop, old man? It made them go away. Break it!" The girl, regaining her composure moved towards him, stopped by an outstretched hand.
"The threat made them back away. We don't know what they'd do if I broke the flute." He searched around, looking for something he could use.
"We can't just stay here, Grey. They're staying away now, but we don't have enough food to wait them out." Tiera moved towards the girl, pulling her close once more. "There's something intelligent about them, about all this. Can that be used to get us out of here?"
"That's what I'm working on." He found what he searched for. A piece of wood, a branch, almost dry around two-and-half-feet long. He pulled it from the ground, wiping the most dry end with his hand. "Who's got some dry cloth in their pack? And I'll need your lantern, girl."
Tiera shrugged off her pack, dug inside and pulled out a spare set of underclothes. She tossed them to him and he didn't have time to feel embarrassed about handling them. The girl removed her lantern from her pack, unused since she bought them all those days ago. From his own pack, he pulled the lantern the girl bought him.
Tying the underclothes around the end of the branch, he then poured the oil from his lantern onto the cloth, tossing the lantern aside, much to the chagrin of the girl. He didn't have time for her to feel hurt about the way he treated her gift. As he worked, he caught a glimpse of the fog barrier shifting. It revealed the Spore Bearers, but also the appearance of a steep banking. Their way out. He held that direction in his mind.
"You're going to burn our way out?" He urged Tiera and the girl to stand closer to him as she spoke, handing the makeshift torch to the Pony Rider.
"I'm negotiating." Taking his flint and steel from a pouch in his pocket, he held Notch under his armpit and began striking for sparks. After several tries, the torch sprang into life, the warmth from the flames feeling better than breathing right now. "Your lantern, girl."
The girl handed him her lantern, almost looking sorry as she had an idea she would never see it again. Brorzjav didn't understand that. Things were things. He could understand becoming attached to weapons, or keepsakes, mementos of people and places. But a lantern was a lantern, not something to sulk over.
He poured the oil over the base of writhing corpses, tossing some onto the flute itself. He made certain every last drop of oil fell onto the mound, watching the movements beyond the fog barrier, then tossed the empty lantern atop the corpses. He held the lit torch high in the air, parading around the mound, showing all the Spore Bearers the new weapon he held.
"Now, I don't know if any of you things can hear me, let alone understand me." He shouted as he moved around the mound, returning to where the girl and Tiera stood. "But, you better believe that I'm willing to burn this mound of yours. All we want is to leave. We leave, nothing burns. Understand?"
To make his point, he brought the burning torch close to the trumpet flute. The flute still poured fog high up into the air. Brorzjav then moved in the direction he saw the slope, pointing the torch that way, then turned, pointing the torch towards the flute once more. Each time he aimed the flaming torch at the fluted fungus, the hissing from the Spore Bearers increased. Every time he moved the torch away, the hisses lessened.
He had no idea if this would work. He gathered the girl and Tiera close. It was their only chance, whatever happened.
-+-
The shifting fog opened and closed, drifted to greater thickness, diminished to seem almost clear. As it did, Brorzjav could see a space open up in line with the direction he pointed with the torch, Spore Bearers stepping aside, leaving a path towards the slope that would mean escape. With Notch in one hand, the torch in the other, he led the girl and Tiera to the very edge of the clearing.
"As soon as you see a gap in the fog, as soon as you see that slope, you run. Do you hear me?" He watched the hissing Spore Bearers. "Don't look back. Don't stop for anything. Use your sword and dagger to help you climb. It's steep, but you can do it."
"Will you be able to climb with the torch?" The girl held her long dagger in her hand, readying herself to run.
Brorzjav said nothing, at first. He caught the silent look from Tiera and shook his head, making sure the girl couldn't see. He set his jaw and turned to stare out into the fog, awaiting a gap for them to begin running. To the side, he saw more Spore Bearers gathering, their fungus covered bodies seeming to shift and waver with the fog. He turned and pointed the torch towards the flute once more, causing the Spore Bearers to hiss and back away, disappearing into the fog.
"I'll be right." His voice cracked a little. Even after all these years, fear had the ability to affect him. The girl looked up at his words, her eyes narrowing.
"You'll be able to climb, won't you?" Clever girl. She'd caught the indecision in his voice.
"I told you. I'll be right." Avoiding her eyes, he continued to watch the fog for a gap.
"Come on, Vee. You have to be ready to run." Tiera tried to turn the girl back towards the fog.
"No. You're not coming, are you? You're staying here." The girl shrugged Tiera's hand from her shoulder. The fear in the girl's eyes replaced by anger.
"He has to, little one." Tiera grabbed the girl's shoulders, turning her around, crouching and glaring into the girl's eyes. "If these things are intelligent enough to tell that their flute-thing is in danger, they're intelligent enough to know the danger is gone if he moves away from it with that torch. He has to stay, so we can run."
A gap began to open in the drifting tide of the fog, big enough to see the slope beyond.
"You have to go. Now!" Brorzjav stepped back, turning so the torch remained close to the trumpet flute growth of fungus.
"No!" The girl pushed at Tiera, her burnt red hair flashing as she shook her head from side-to-side. "I won't leave without you! I won't!"
With a nod from Brorzjav, Tiera picked up the struggling girl and, ignoring the slaps and kicking legs, began to run through the gap in the fog, heading towards the slope even now becoming lost in the bank of shifting fog. The girl screamed in Tiera's arms, fighting all the way until the fog shifted once again and the two girl's disappeared from his view.
He could hear the hisses of the Spore Bearers, gathering at the edge of the clearing, their fungus distorted hands reaching in, then pulling back. He had no way of knowing whether the girl and Tiera were faring well, or whether the whole thing had become a terrible misjudgement. He could only hope and pray to the blasted Patrons for their mercy.
The silence rang in his ears, only broken by the hisses of the Spore Bearers and the occasional 'puff' as the great fungus flute exhaled that treacherous fog into the air. There seemed little he could do, now. The makeshift torch would not remain lit forever, eventually the flame would dwindle, diminish and then flicker out and die, leaving him with no defence.
He held Notch up and smiled as he looked over the pock-marked, battered, rusted blade. His most constant companion. Most trusted. That blade had seen him through wars, through peace and yet more wars. It had saved his life and taken many, many others. It had suffered damage, broken, chipped, yet its magic would not let its existence end, returning to its normal state within hours, sometimes minutes. He wished he were more like that sword. He returned it to its scabbard.
Sighing, he set his feet. The girls should have reached the slope, by now. Even the girl, Viriili, should now that this was the only way. The only outcome. Two people survive, while one old man did something good with his life. For once.
It would be a good death, waiting til the last moment to set fire to the flute, anyway. He could never allow himself to become like those Spore Bearers, so death by fire would have to be his reward. But it would be a death with purpose. A noble sacrifice. An unselfish end to a long, long life not well lived.
In these last few moments, he tried to remember happier times. Simpler times. None came to mind. That made him more sad than he could ever have imagined. Three wives and countless lovers, yet no children of his own, that he knew of. And not ever knowing a child would seem as close to not having them as could be. But, no. No happier times for him. Only the here, and the now, and the long-awaited final end.
As he prepared to set the flute afire, he caught sight of a figure in the fog, heading this way. He gripped the torch, about to drop it to the mass of oil covered, writhing, fungus engulfed bodies. He didn't expect the truce to last, not least as he thought he would be the one to break it.
The girl burst from the fog, breathing fast, catching sharp breaths through the mask of cloak cloth. She saw him near the mound and almost launched herself into him, gripping her arms around his waist. A second later, Tiera appeared from the fog, stopping a couple of feet away, dabbing her hand at a bleeding bite mark upon her cheek.
"She bloody bit me!" She didn't seem angry at the girl, more amused and filled with a little pride.
"You damn bloody, stupid, bleeding, idiot, fool of a child!" Brorzjav roared at the girl, though he didn't pull away from her grip, resting a hand on her head. He continued in a quieter voice. "You damned, bloody fool."
"So, now what, Grey? I don't think that bluff will work a second time." Indeed, the hissing from the Spore Bearers had changed tone, becoming higher and more intense. "A last stand? Go down fighting? Hide? Somewhere."
"During war, all the greatest plans become just words when the battle starts. Then it's time for the soldiers to use their wits and pray they aren't witless." He saw the gathering Spore Bearers and sighed. This next part would be, to many, considered witless. "Let's stop bluffing."
He pulled the girl's arms from around his waist, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, ignoring the indignant 'hey!' from her. He nodded at Tiera, prayed again, then set his face like stone as he tossed the torch onto the mound of oil covered bodies.
The lantern oil caught fast, rippling along the trails left by the oil's presence upon the bodies and the flute. Soon, bodies and flute became engulfed by flames. It wouldn't last long, may not even do much damage, but it had to be enough. Especially as the hissing Spore Bearers erupted in fury, launching themselves beyond the invisible barrier towards Brorzjav, the girl and Tiera.
But they were already moving, dashing forward, battering into anything that stood before them, racing headlong back towards the slope leading to safety. Tiera slashed with wild swings of her sword as she ran, carving a path before her and Brorzjav, carrying the girl, followed in her violent wake. Fungus encrusted fingers clutched out towards them, appearing without warning from the fog, only to find themselves dismembered by Tiera's sweeping blade.
They reached the slope far faster than he expected, and he dropped the girl to her feet, pulling Notch from its scabbard and slamming it deep into the side of the slope.
"Climb!" He grabbed the girl, lifting her higher than himself and watched as she dug her long dagger into the side of the slope. Tiera used her sword and they each began to climb the slope, even as hissing reached their ears from behind.