“Kinsey,” the chancellor hissed. Another branch snapped under his richly, embroidered boot with a loud crack. The sound echoed off the surrounding trees like children at play with wooden swords.
Already agitated with the nobleman, Kinsey cursed softly. He turned to the damned, fool aristocrat and spoke in a low voice, “If you want to die, please, allow me the opportunity to fulfill your wish. Otherwise, be still!”
Chancellor Kesh Tomelen looked at Kinsey in stunned silence and froze in place. Kesh’s pale, delicate features slowly turned a dark crimson and his usually handsome features transformed into an ugly frown of scorn. “I’ll not be spoken to in such a manner! As leader of this expedition I will be given the proper respect. And don’t forget why you are here in the first place... you’re lucky your attack on Lord Graves didn’t cost you your commission,” Kesh stated in an arrogant tone.
If Kinsey hadn’t been so angry he would have laughed. Instead, he stepped much closer to the chancellor so that their noses almost touched, “You and I are pretty much equals on this little expedition, and seeing as how there’s no castle walls around, that puts me in charge. And I say, shut yer mouth and be still!” He said in a low growl.
Kinsey watched his words take a most desirable effect as the chancellor’s fists tighten so that his knuckles turned white and the veins on his forehead bulged like fat earthworms threatening to explode from the pressure. Kinsey thought the chancellor might actually try to strike him, but to his credit, Kesh held his tongue and stopped his stumbling about like drunken fool.
Pointing a finger at the ground for emphasis Kinsey spoke in a hushed, peremptory voice, “Stay here! If you make too much noise we’ll be discovered. I’ll relate the details of what I find when I return.”
Without waiting for a response Kinsey crawled into the wall of dense brush before them. He attempted to be as quiet as possible but chainmail wasn’t made for sneaking and Kinsey wasn’t made for it either. His real purpose was to get away from the chancellor, not to play scout, that particular role was being fulfilled by someone with the skill for such things. Kinsey just needed some distance between the nobleman and himself, before his anger made him do something rash. Kesh had been driving him crazy with incessant whining of current affairs, and boasting of past adventures. The previous three weeks had been like sustaining a barrage of verbal floggings and Kinsey’s patience was at an end. Usually he could handle this kind of situation but his temper flared much more easily as of late. The reasons behind his increased aggression where a mystery but the last thing Kinsey needed was to pummel the man sent to gain favor with his prince’s future wife.
Kinsey crawled a bit further once he cleared the thicket, then stopped to look back and make sure he wasn’t followed. Kesh was an able enough politician but woodsman he was not; the fool needed constant tending so as not to get injured, or Eos forbid, killed. Although, Kinsey thought, this mission might be the death of us both.
Looking around the small clearing he observed that the trees here were enormous in circumference as well as height, and their roots covered the ground like massive spider webs, creeping along the ground waiting to snare the unsuspecting wanderer. It would take ten men with their arms spread wide to reach around the smallest of these giants and this was just the edge of the forest they belonged to. Rumours spoke of trees in the deep wood that would take a hundred men to span their bases. Kinsey had only seen one of such size, in the heart of Waterfall Citadel, a behemoth even amongst these trees. A beacon of hope for many a traveler, it could be seen from miles away and heralded the presence of the greatest city of northern Orundal.
Although the size of the trees were quite unique, the Winewood got its namesake from another trait just as distinctive. The rich maroon color of the bark motivated the naming of these woods, and some used to believe they tasted like actual wine... total nonsense of course. In his youth Kinsey had put a piece of the stuff in his mouth and regretted it immediately; the taste was so bitter his face puckered for a week.
Attempting to get to his feet Kinsey slammed back down to the ground as if yanked by some great force. Looking beneath him he found that one of the many tree roots running along the moss covered ground had gotten tangled in his chain mail shirt.
Kinsey shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable.”
“Are you deliberately trying to be discovered, or are you letting your dwarven half roll around in the mud?” said a familiar voice.
Kinsey rolled away from the direction of the voice, tearing himself free of the entangling root, to come up on all fours facing his long time friend and mentor.
“You looked less like a turtle and more like a badger that time,” Erik said, a broad smile on his face as if enjoying some jester’s performance. He had perched himself soundlessly on a large, moss covered root just outside the treeline, one hand holding his bow casually in front of him, the other rubbing his chin.
Kinsey’s cheeks flushed in humiliation and he got to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. “Some of us were not blessed with an elf’s pair of feet.” Kinsey replied. The damned elf had done it to him again, sneaking up unawares, some day Kinsey was going to take a club to Erik’s feet and then see how quiet he could sneak about.
Dusting himself off Kinsey snorted softly. “One of these days you’re going to have to show me how to do that.”
“Been trying for the past sixty years. I’ve heard of slow learners, but really... there comes a point when you just have to let go of lost causes,” Erik replied with a grin. He came off the tree root with a little hop and made his way to Kinsey. The elf was tall, lean and moved with an irritating grace that all his kind seemed to possess. Long, dark hair held back by many braids allowed Erik’s ears to show, which the lower portions appeared like that of a humans’ but changed dramatically toward the top with sharp points stretching halfway up the sides of his head. The faded browns and greens of his leather armor made him almost impossible to see in these woods.
“What did you find?” Kinsey asked.
“Yes, what did you find?” Chancellor Tomelen repeated. He tumbled from the thicket, cursing as he came to an abrupt halt, on his backside, between Erik and Kinsey. The finery on the man’s clothes spoke volumes of his inexperience with long, road travel and dealing with the dangerous encounters that accompanied such a journey. In these woods Kesh stuck out like a roster in a hen house. Any bandit would jump at the chance to strip him naked and take him for ransom. In spite of his foolishness, the chancellor scrambled to his feet with dignity and brushed himself off with a look of disdain on his face. His voice hissed out through clenched teeth. “I will not be left out of this conversation... you two were sent to help guard me on my journey to Stone Mountain; make no mistake who is in charge here! I will make the decisions that need to be made, and you,” his eyes swept across the pair, “will respect and follow my lead.”
Kinsey could feel the heat rise around his neck and on his cheeks. The confrontation with Lord Banlor Graves had started in such a manner. It was as if the two men were kin, Kesh mimicked Banlor perfectly in his unfaltering arrogance. The gall of the two men, expecting him, and everyone else, to heed their every beck and call. It put Kinsey on edge; he wasn’t some dog on a leash that could be set to heel.
He balled up a fist as his temper rose to the boiling point. He was going to lay Kesh low, just as he had done to Lord Graves, and most likely lose all standing in the process, but at that moment he didn’t care. Kinsey had heard enough garbage spew from this man’s mouth.
He felt Erik’s hand upon his shoulder, “Of course chancellor, but this particular situation is martial in nature. Kinsey and I are well versed and prepared to handle the matter. You needn’t burden yourself with such a mean task.” Erik stated, as he came to stand beside Kinsey.
Kinsey deflated at Erik’s mediation. It was times like this that he found himself most humbled by his mentor. Kinsey couldn’t handle the pampering that aristocrats needed on a regular basis, but that was something Erik mastered before Kinsey was born. If only he possessed the patience Erik always seemed to maintain... but it wasn’t meant to be. Kinsey was born rough around the edges, no matter how much proper schooling given him, he was still half-dwarven and bashing people over the head was part of his heritage.
Kesh gave Erik a sideways glance, “Your smooth words will not placate me Erik. I will be the judge of what I burden myself with. Now, what did you find?” The chancellor turned to face Erik directly.
Erik bowed his head in assent and started moving back toward the remainder of their party beyond the thicket, addressing both Kinsey and Kesh as he walked. “There are a score of wildmen that have made camp about a quarter mile ahead of us. From the looks of the camp I would say they have been there for some time. The wildmen don’t concern me as much as the four wargs they have with them... we are at the mercy of the wind as long as those beasts are present.”
Kinsey looked in the direction Erik gestured when speaking of the wildmen camp. He had lead the chancellor’s entourage further north on their journey in hopes of avoiding encounters such as this. They were practically in the middle of Pelos, so what in Eos’ name were wildmen doing this far north of the border? A question Kinsey would definitely bring up once they reached Stone Mountain, but until then he would have to find a way around this mess. “Can we back track, then come around from a different direction?” He asked Erik.
Erik made an equivocating gesture, “Possibly. I found a game trail to the north that cuts above their camp site but if the wind changes we’ll be discovered. We can loop down further south and avoid that whole area.”
Kinsey frowned in thought and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the wildmen camp, “There’s no guarantee we won’t run into another group like this one, not to mention the time delay the southern route could cost. It might be at least an extra couple of days.”
“It’s a gamble either way.” Erik said with a shrug.
“The less time we spend in these woods the better. I say we press on.” Kesh said with conviction as he came through the underbrush.
“Chancellor, I believe you and I are in agreement for the first time during this little journey.” Kinsey replied.
“Yes, well... don’t get used to it.” Kesh said with contempt.
Kinsey stopped and watched Kesh’s back as he walked down to the line of mules, horses and men in the ravine below. “I truly hate that man.” He said with a show of teeth.
“You wouldn’t be the first, but may well be the last.” Erik said with a chuckle as he passed by.
Kinsey reached out and stopped him, “Thank you... for back there. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Not many do when the chancellor is involved. You’re welcome.” Erik said and placed a hand on Kinsey’s shoulder. “You’re doing a good job here, these men look up to you. Remember that the next time you feel your anger is up.” He patted Kinsey’s shoulder roughly and moved on down the hill.
Kinsey took a deep, calming breath and blew it out as he looked down into the ravine at the twenty souls depending on him to make the right decisions. He was trying, but he found that battling his own frustrations on top of the pressures of making the correct decisions for everyone else was becoming more difficult as the journey dragged on.
Even a few short months ago, his fuse was capable of absorbing a plan that went sour, or the jibes from an irritating speck like Kesh. But now, even trivial setbacks seemed to provoke an anger in him that felt almost alive, twisting inside his breast, aching to be set free.
He shook his head. Maybe it was just the pressure of this mission. He had led many expeditions and parties before, but none that were this high profile. The weeks previous to departure had been grueling; locked up in a room with Basinian aristocrats going over every detail. And etiquette for Eos’ sake: “proper this, and proper that….” It made Kinsey feel nauseous. Relocating royalty was a pain that no one should have to suffer.
Kinsey looked down to see Chancellor Tomelen move among the men, gesturing for them to get up and prepare to move out, then proceeded to direct where direction wasn’t needed.
Kinsey shrugged, “Or people who think they’re royalty for that matter.” He whispered to himself.
Moving down the hill to the lip of the ravine Kinsey stood where he could see the entire group and spoke so all could hear, “Everybody listen up!”
* * *
Erik took what supplies he needed from his saddlebags as Kinsey’s voice carried over the ravine. This little detour would be tricky, the game trail was only a couple of hundred yards from the wildmen’s campsite and any excess noise would certainly lead to discovery. He wasn’t so concerned about the men as he was the mules and horses, if they got scent of the wargs, panic could infect the whole group, then a stampede would surely follow leaving them all stranded in a foot race with the wildmen.
Erik grabbed his horse’s reins and lead him slowly to an armored veteran who stood listening to Kinsey intently. “Rouke,” whispered Erik, “a word.”
Rouke turned his head slightly toward Erik to listen, but kept his eyes on Kinsey. He was an average sized man with no truly distinguishable features other than a deep scar above his right brow. His short, brown hair and worn clothing gave him the appearance of just about every arms-man in the Basinian military. What made Rouke stand apart was reliability; Erik knew if he put the man to task, that task would be completed with satisfactory results.
Erik offered the reins to Rouke, “I will take us to the game trail, then give lead over to you. It won’t be hard to follow once you’re on it, the trail is well worn. Just keep heading east and you should be safe as babes in their cradles... I’ll need you to take Camelyard for me so I can move ahead to keep watch on the wildmen camp.” Erik said.
“Aye,” said Rourke as he nodded and took the reins, “Don’t ya worry ‘bout Camelyard, I’ll keep good watch over ‘em.”
Erik patted Rourke on the shoulder and moved to the head of the caravan to wait for Kinsey’s final commands. Once situated on a large, moss covered rock he looked toward his once pupil, now comrade, with a mixture of pride and concern.
Kinsey was truly an odd mix, humans and dwarves rarely mingled in such a fashion. Not so much because of cultural differences, even though there were many, but because of the physical deformities that occurred from such a union. Although, Erik observed, Kinsey had not suffered negatively from these particular abnormalities but taken on some of the best qualities of each race. His facial features leaned toward the human half with slight, dwarven exaggerations in his thickened chin and broadened nose. Dark green eyes peered out from under heavy brows and rich, auburn hair covered his head, upper-lip and chin. Kinsey’s human similarities ended with his five and a half feet in height, while the dwarven part of him dominated his excessive girth. Not to say he was portly by any means, Kinsey was just big, in essence he looked like a giant dwarf.
Erik grinned at the contradiction that so appropriately described his good friend; his adopted son.
He had taken Kinsey and his surrogate mother as wards over sixty years ago, when Kinsey was but an infant. The courts in Waterfall Citadel had given Erik no explanation as to their previous situation, only that they were without a home and no family to care for them. Not unlike his own situation at one time, Erik sympathized with the pair and gave them a place to call their own. Over time he grew to love the boy and his mother, and eventually took her as his wife and Kinsey as his son. It had been a good life; her passing had been hard on both of them.
Feeling the pangs of regret, Erik took a deep breath and looked away from Kinsey to the woods beyond. Taking a human wife had never worked out well for Erik, or at least, at the end. This had been his third time to do so; the third time he’d had to bury one, the third time he’d felt the pain of their loss. This time, however, he had been given a son. Someone long-lived enough to reminisce with; a luxury he had been without for nearly two centuries.
Her passing had changed Kinsey as much as it had Erik. A deep sorrow took hold of his son, not unlike his own, but with greater intensity. The sorrow in and of itself wasn’t the problem; the remedy Kinsey chose to break free of the sadness, however, was an entirely different matter. Instead of using meditation as Erik had taught him, Kinsey spent most of his time brooding, employing anger as his outlet. Of course, Kinsey had always been a brooder but it had never come to anything serious, until recently. Confrontations with his superiors had become more frequent and Erik had been afraid Kinsey would be thrown in the stockade, resulting in the loss of his son’s commission. In a way, this was Kinsey’s last chance to save face with the governing body of Waterfall Citadel.
“Alright, let’s move out!” Kinsey shouted.
The words snapped Erik out of his contemplation. He hopped off the rock with practiced ease and made his way to Kinsey to tell him of his intentions.
“You needn’t worry, I have personally made sure things will go smoothly...” Chancellor Tomelen was saying to his personal entourage as Erik walked by. Being one of the people actually responsible for the safety of the caravan, Erik hoped the chancellor was correct. Getting into a skirmish with the wildmen could prove to be quite lethal for their little band.
“Be careful.” Kinsey said, as they clasped hands.
“Always. You as well.” Erik smiled, then turned and headed toward the deep Wine Wood.
Once found, the trail would be fairly easy-to-follow, Erik didn’t think Rourke would have a problem leading the escort through the twisting paths made by the indigenous wildlife. Getting there had been the hard part.
The heavy clop of hooves on hard packed earth, and an occasional snort or whicker from the horses gave Erik warning that the escort was close enough behind him to find the trail without further assistance, but just to be sure he broke several branches along the trail before departing.
Wanting to be in position before the group got too close to the wildmen camp he trotted off soundlessly into the dense forest. If there was one thing Erik was good at, it was moving through woods unheard and unseen.
It didn’t take him long to find the wildmen’s camp, nor to find a good position upon a wine wood tree with low branches. Perching among the limbs, some twenty feet from the forest floor, he was able to spy upon the savage group unawares.
Smoke from their campfires drifted slowly to the canopy above, hiding Erik’s scent from the wargs lounging below. The camp was quiet, only a few of the creatures stirred; with most out of sight, hidden in their hide-covered tents.
Erik gently pulled his bow from his shoulder and arranged the quarrel of arrows at his waist to a more manageable position. If things went badly, he could at least buy the escort some time by taking out a few of those wargs.
The camp contained several small groupings of tent-like structures and cooking fires that scattered amongst the trees in no particular order. The wildmen themselves were comprised of not only men, but goblins and hobgoblins as well. The three species rarely coexisted, let alone worked well together, but the need for survival can settle many differences. The men appeared similar to humans of the northern realms only more ragged and hard faced. The goblins were far different; very short, perhaps three feet in height with a ruddy green tint to their skin, large distended noses and wicked mouths containing many sharp, rotten teeth. Intelligent and extremely devious, goblins tended to be responsible for most of the raids that came from the Savage Lands. The hobgoblins were similar to men in body form only. Flat, broad noses and short tusks were the most prominent facial features. Far stronger and infinitely more vicious than the other two species, they ruled with brute force and intimidation, demonstrated below as one of the hulking brutes bullied a group of humans out of, what appeared to be, their personal belongings.
Erik settled in between two massive branches, each the size of a tree themselves. No sense in being uncomfortable while spying on your enemies he thought. Erik shifted into a position so any shot at the wargs would be a clear one.
The minutes dragged on as the camp began to stir. The campfires now began to smell of cooking food, rousting more of the savages from their sleep. Many of the figures below stretched the stiffness out of their muscles as they came from their tents.
The distant scream of an injured horse pierced the late, morning calm and echoed through the trees into the encampment, causing all below to go still and heads to turn. All of the wargs were on their feet, and facing the direction of the noise intently.
Erik bolted upright. He quickly knocked an arrow and looked down to the wildmen camp that had exploded into action once the telltale sound of prey faded in the distance. He took aim on one of the massive wolf-like creatures below, “So much for things going smoothly.”
* * *
Kinsey watched helplessly as the pack horse tumbled into the ravine below, supplies and tackle littering the ground in its wake. He turned to the remaining line of men walking their horses, “Mount up and ride!”
The armored veterans swung up into their saddles with ease and grace, as they had done a thousand times before. The chancellor and his band of fops, however, took to their horses as pigs take to ice. Clawing at their mounts in panic, the noblemen only incited the beasts to frenzy. Several horses rolled their large, dark eyes back to white and kicked their forelegs in fear, throwing well-dressed men to the ground in heaps.
Kinsey shook his head, the scene would’ve been laughable, if the situation were not so dire. The wargs would be upon them soon, and the circus act being displayed before him was only wasting precious time. Kinsey cursed in frustration and mounted his own horse. He spurred his steed forward amongst the panicked animals, and grabbed their reins, bringing them under control long enough for the aristocrats to scramble up onto their saddles. “Ride!” Kinsey growled to each, as he handed them the reins.
The haunting howls of the wargs rang through the morning mist, heralding their fast approach. Kinsey helped the last man, Chancellor Kesh himself, onto his steed. Once in the saddle, the chancellor just sat, paralyzed with fear, unable to spur his mount into motion.
Clenching his jaw, Kinsey slapped the backside of Kesh’s mount, “Ride you fool!”
The chancellor’s mount took off as if it were doused in flames, kicking up dust while it ran along the game trail at breakneck speed, Kesh clinging to the reins for dear life, his arms and legs flailing about trying to find a hold on the horse beneath him.
“Kinsey!” screamed the chancellor in a high-pitched voice that carried through the woods like the mating call of some exotic bird found on the coasts of Asynia.
Kinsey chuckled to himself as the thrill of imminent danger and the hilarity of the chancellor’s foolishness broke through his well-founded apprehension.
He dug heels into his horse's flanks and thundered off after the screaming nobleman, knowing the wargs would be hot on his trail in a few moments. Kinsey also knew they could never outrun the wargs, but if they put enough distance between themselves and the wildmen camp there was a chance of engaging only the large, wolf-like beasts instead of the entire tribe. Otherwise, the conflict could be the end of them all.
Kinsey spurred his horse to greater speed, closing ground between he and Chancellor Kesh. Kinsey weighed close to twenty stone, and was afraid Dak, his massive Percheron, couldn’t last at this pace for long. Large spots of foamy sweat had already started to coat Dak’s thick neck by the time they caught up with the Chancellor.
Kesh was still not in control of his mount but managed to hang on despite his teetering and the horse’s lightning-like pace. The trail was too narrow for Kinsey to get alongside Kesh, so he was forced to slow down.
Kinsey looked over his shoulder for any sign of the wargs, and sighed in relief at seeing only billowing clouds of dust and the blur of massive trees behind them. The brief respite gave his thoughts time to drift to Erik; Had he escaped? Was he safe? He would have to circle back to try and find his stepfather once the escort had made it to safety.
A terrified scream from Kesh whipped Kinsey’s head around just in time to see the chancellor and his horse go over the cliff of a ravine that cut straight through the game trail. He watched horse and rider suspended in midair for what seemed an eternity, Kesh’s robes and satchels billowed in the wind like the great flags adorning the walls of Waterfall Citadel. The horse’s forelegs stretched out in anticipation of the impact on the far side of the ravine. The front hooves landed on the edge of the embankment but it’s hindquarters slammed into the sloping wall of the ravine and sent the chancellor flying from his saddle into the underbrush.
Desperately Kinsey pulled back on the reins, his heavily corded arms going taunt with the effort, in hopes that Dak could stop in time. He did, but Kinsey did not. The shift in momentum was so abrupt that Kinsey found himself dismounted as well; sailing over the horse’s head like some circus acrobat found in one of the many fairs traveling through the kingdoms. He tucked into a somersault and landed at the base of the ravine, feet first. Kinsey rolled with his fall in an attempt to save his legs from shattering under the impact. His actions were successful, for the small price of having the wind knocked out of him.
Kinsey lay in stunned silence, and tried to blink away the haziness as Dak made his way down into the ravine with quick, choppy steps. He could hear the Chancellor’s horse scramble up onto the game trail and stamp its hooves impatiently, apparently waiting for someone to give it direction.
Kinsey filled his lungs with deep gulps of air once the sharp pin pricks of pain brought feeling back into his body. With colossal effort and a loud groan, he willed his arms and legs into sluggish motion as he attempted to right himself.
“Chancellor!” Kinsey cried out hoarsely, as he stumbled to his feet. “Get to your horse!”
The wargs howled in response, coming ever closer.
“Chancellor Kesh!”
He staggered to Dak and pulled his battle axe from its harness. Using the weapon as a cane and grabbing hold of Dak’s tail, Kinsey urged the beast up the sloping wall of the ravine toward the spot at which Kesh had disappeared.
“Dammit Kesh, you better not be dead!” Kinsey demanded, as he reached the top of the ravine.
He spotted one of the chancellor’s boots poking out from the thick underbrush. Stumbling past the horse, he knelt down beside the richly dressed body and pushed back the large leaves that covered it. Kinsey gently turned the body over and fearing the worst he found only light scratches and bruises upon Kesh’s face and hands. The chancellor’s chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern as if he were asleep.
Kinsey ran his hand down the back of the chancellor’s neck and spine to see if anything was broken. He found no abnormal bulges or recesses upon his inspection and laid the unconscious nobleman on the ground once more.
“Thank Eos.” Kinsey breathed in relief.
A low, guttural growl came from across the ravine. Dak screamed in terror and galloped off, following Kesh’s mount toward the escaping escort and leaving the unconscious chancellor and Kinsey to fend for themselves.
Kinsey went very still, licked his dry lips and cursed softly. He wasn’t sure if they’d made it far enough away from the wildmen’s camp to safely engage their pursuers, but there was nothing to be done about it now, he would have to fight. Kinsey tightened his grip on the double-headed axe and turned to face his pursuers.
* * *
Erik sprinted across the hazardous ground, his feet stepping lightly from root to root with such surety it would seem to any who might have observed, that he moved along a flat, cobblestone surface. Huge tree trunks passed by him in a blur of motion, and small shafts of light penetrated the canopy from high above, lighting his way along the forest floor.
After putting one of the wolf-beasts down, Erik was forced to chase the remaining three, two of which carried goblin warriors armed with short swords, handaxes and the intent to kill. Warg riders were a particularly nasty breed of goblin. Surviving not only the day-to-day life being a member of such a species but also working with a viscous carnivore so closely, made for a nasty goblin indeed.
He could no longer hear the screams of the wildmen that trailed far behind. They could not match his pace, the terrain was too dense and their dexterity not so developed. Erik was counting on this in hopes of putting distance between the escort and the bulk of the wildmen encampment. He was quite delighted to see that his hopes were coming to fruition.
A sharp, whining howl sounded out in the distance ahead of him, then cut short with a pain-filled yowl. Kinsey’s triumphant battle cry accompanied the mournful, death-wail of the warg, echoing through the trees like a blasting horn.
Erik pushed his legs harder, until they burned from the effort, and his lungs caught fire from the quick breaths needed to sustain such a pace as thoughts of Kinsey raced through his mind. His son would take rearguard, Erik was sure of that, but had others stayed behind to help him? An important question, for there were too many foes for one man to defend against, but Erik knew as well, Kinsey would be too bullheaded to retreat. If push came to shove he would willingly sacrifice himself for the safety of the escort. Erik could not allow that to happen.
He could see the shadows of the warg riders gliding between the trees just ahead, their silhouettes standing out against the bright light of some clearing or ravine that lay before them. The goblins swung their axes over their heads, screeching their own wicked, battle cries as they raced towards Kinsey’s bellowing.
Erik’s lungs were set to burst when he finally reached the ravine, and he could hear the thumping of his heart as it tried to keep up with his sharp gasps for breath. He came to a sliding halt at the ravine’s edge almost toppling into the crevice, but managed to maintain his balance by waving his arms about frantically and bending at the waist. Not the greatest example of agility, but he kept his footing and didn’t go over the side. Erik looked down to find Kinsey, alone, battling against the warg riders on the far wall of the ravine.
“Dammit Kinsey!”
A riderless beast lay motionless at Kinsey’s feet, its flank opened wide exposing entrails and puddles of gore, but the two saddled wargs were far from dead. One latched on to Kinsey’s arm with its giant maw, biting down with razor-sharp teeth and tried to shake the half dwarf to pieces. Its rider flopped around uselessly still strapped to the saddle, a massive two-headed axe protruding from its chest. The other goblin sneered in delight as it attempted to maneuver it’s mount into a better position to attack Kinsey from behind. If not for the close and sloping ground, Kinsey would likely already be dead.
Forgetting the pain in his chest, and the exhaustion of his overexerted muscles, Erik knocked an arrow, took aim and let loose.
* * *
Kinsey knew he was going to die. The first warg had gone down easily, but the two goblin riders and their throwing axes were unexpected. Trapped by the arm as he was, it was only a matter of time before the wargs and their masters out-maneuvered him.
He grimaced under the pressure of his arm guard warping as the warg’s teeth clamped down harder on the dense metal like a blacksmith’s vice. The intense pain snapped Kinsey out of his thoughts of death, if only for the moment. With his new found clarity he hauled himself to the beast, and looped his free arm around the back of the assailing warg’s head, in hopes of preventing his trapped arm from being torn from its socket as the beast thrashed him about like a child’s toy. Worries of defending himself against the other warg and its goblin rider were lost in his desperate attempt to survive the current predicament.
The warg hesitated in its savage assault, taking deep breaths and drooling thick, carrion-smelling saliva down Kinsey’s arm.
Using the last bits of hope and anger that remaining within him, Kinsey planted his feet and hauled the matted and scarred head up and backwards. A mighty roar, filled with fear and rage, erupted from deep within him, and he squeezed the warg’s neck into his chest with all his strength. If Kinsey was to die, so be it, but he would not die alone.
The beast struggled in a panicked frenzy, tearing at Kinsey’s arm, sensing the battle had taken a horribly wrong turn.
Kinsey pushed his wounded arm up into its top jaw, forcing the massive head further backwards. Heavy cords of muscle bulged along his arms as he strained against the scrabbling beast. Kinsey’s mind became overrun with rage, all else forgotten but the moment of struggle within the blood lust that suddenly consumed him. He let loose another deafening roar, flexing his entire body in a final attempt to end the conflict. Their bodies stood intertwined, frozen in a test of strength and will for what seemed like an eternity to Kinsey.
A wet but loud snap rang out and the massive wolf-beast went limp. Kinsey stumbled forward from the sudden lack of resistance and fell on top of the ruined warg. His trapped arm came free of its gaping maw as he rolled across the warg’s body to get to his feet.
The other warg and its rider should have already been upon him, tearing him to pieces. Searching desperately for his weapon, Kinsey spotted the reason for their delay. He closed his eyes and gave thanks to Eos, letting the exhaustion from his previous efforts seep into his weary muscles. The warg and its goblin master lay riddled with arrows, their eyes open wide in surprise and filled with the far-off gaze of death.
“Well, I suppose that could have gone worse,” Erik huffed from behind him.
Kinsey looked around and barked a laugh, part relief, part hysteria and motioned to the two dead wargs, “Good thing you caught up when you did, I was about to become breakfast for these two.”
“Are you okay?” Erik looked down at Kinsey’s arm.
“Thanks to you.” Kinsey rubbed his arm. The armor around it would have to be cut off, but there was no blood, so he pushed the pain away. “How about you? You sound like an old woman trying to catch her breath after crossing the kitchen.”
Erik rolled his eyes and grinned, “Some days are better than others, but yes, I’m fine.”
Kinsey smiled warmly at his friend and breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Eos that Erik had not been harmed. Turning from his comrade, Kinsey grabbed hold of his axe with both hands and yanked it free of it’s goblin sheath.
“We best be on, there isn’t much time.” Kinsey looked back to watch Erik pull arrows from the other two corpses.
As if on cue, Kinsey could hear shouts of the trailing wildmen in the distance. Erik looked up from his task. “You won’t be able to outrun them for long. We should make our stand in the trees at the edge of the ravine while we still have strength.”
“I won’t have you sacrifice yourself on account of my slowness.”
With a look of irritation, Erik straighten, “Don’t be foolish... would you leave me behind if I was wounded and unable to escape?”
Kinsey stammered, unable to reply with a response that would benefit his side of the argument.
“We’ve spoken of hypocrisy before, perhaps you need another lesson in it’s futility.” Erik raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“We don’t have time for this!”
“Exactly.”
“Dammit, why do you have to be so... Stubborn?”
Erik blinked with a look of consternation, then abruptly doubled over with laughter. The deeply felt kind of laughter that made you glad to be alive, the kind of laughter Kinsey had not heard from his stepfather since before his mother had died.
“Well I’m glad you’re so... optimistic.” Kinsey chuckled, unable to defend himself against the infectious laughter. The prospect of death was quite high, and yet here they stood, laughing at one another. Better than weeping Kinsey supposed, but all rather ridiculous nonetheless.
“Your hypocrisy truly knows no bounds!” Erik wiped the tears from his eyes. “Perhaps we should find cover.”
“Or perhaps not.” Kinsey turned to the sound of approaching horses.