Chapter 24
If she had ever been more miserable,
she could not remember it. The cramps,
the bleeding, and the general unpleasantness of the whole situation were
bringing her to new heights of despair and rage. She attempted to maintain a sense of princely
dignity throughout the ordeal, but found herself cursing her feminine condition
almost constantly. There were times that
she wasn’t sure she could even carry on, her resolve was tested by every mile
that they travelled. It had hit her hard
as Kalabred announced that they had entered the southwestern frontier of Lorm.
Lorm.
It did not matter that Tolian had never been in that particular part of
the kingdom, or that the country was as rural and uninhabited as the haunted
mountains of the druids. Tolian was
home. And she was raging like a wild
fire on the inside. Anger and sorrow
alternated in her turmoil.
Only the vision of the Moonsword kept
her going. She could see it clearly,
almost as though it were right in front of her.
She could feel its presence growing stronger as they grew nearer to it.
She slowed her horse as she drew up
to the druids of the party. They were
engaged in their salute to the setting sun.
She waited patiently for them to finish.
“I think we can make a few more miles
before setting up camp, don’t you?” Tolian asked of Kalabred.
“If it weren’t Samhain I’d agree with
you,” the druid replied.
Delorick who had just rode up
scoffed, “You’re afraid because it’s Halloween?”
“Prudent, not afraid,” said Brythia,
defending Kalabred.
“I must concur as well, `tis a dangerous
evening to be out and about,” Findelbres added.
“We should definitely make some preparations.”
“Agreed,” said Kilfrie.
“What do you say, Tolian?” asked
Kalabred.
“I hadn’t considered the day. Do you suppose we have anything to worry
about?” she queried in return.
“I don’t think we have to worry, but
we should be careful,” Brythia said.
“Right, then,” Tolian announced. “We’ll set up camp here.”
There were no clouds in the sky that
night. The cold brilliance of the stars
shone down as the day’s heat slipped up and away. The chill North wind rustled the few leaves
that remained on the trees, and sang the song of the coming winter. No insects or night birds disturbed the icy
stillness that was setting in.
The party was seated close about the
campfire. They talked, ate, and
rested. There was a feeling in the air,
and the entire party sensed it. An eerie
energy flowed across time and space. A
peculiar unease accompanied it. Tolian
felt it strongly. She noticed that
Findelbres exhibited an uncharacteristic nervousness.
“What troubles you, Findelbres?” she
asked.
“Sh!” he responded.
“Do you hear something?”
“Yes,” the faerie answered in a
whisper, “I hear all manner of things moving between the planes. Some are headed for us.”
Findelbres’ tone sent a shiver down everyone’s
spine.
Kilfrie turned to Kalabred.
“Summon the panther,” she said.
Kalabred did not hesitate to obey
her. He sent out a shrill cry into the
night. A few moments later the sleek,
dark form of the panther slipped out of the shadows of the forest. It came up to them. Kilfrie whistled and drew the feline’s
attention. The druidess caught the big
cat’s gaze and held it as she adjusted her position to one more comfortable.
Tolian watched in interest as the
panther crouched into a sitting position as well. It was amazing. Kilfrie worked her power so quickly and
easily for as the panther then stood up and circled the camp, Tolian knew that
it was the druidess who was in control.
Whether it was a natural ability or some special magickal power that she
had obtained, Tolian was ignorant. She
made a note to ask her when she had returned her consciousness to her body; at
that moment Kilfrie stared forward with a blank expression on her face. The panther paced around a few times
apparently Kilfrie was taking a little time to get accustomed to the feline’s
body.
“What’s going on?” asked
Delorick. “Is Kilfrie all right?”
“She’s fine,” said Myrthis, “She’s
just borrowing the panther’s body to have a look around.”
“Oh”
The panther then made a series of
noises and sprinted off into the dense forest.
“Be careful,” Brythia called after
her.
An hour later, they had seen and
heard nothing from the panther. Kilfrie
remained in the exact same position without flinching. Tolian could not tell if she was even breathing. Brythia assured her that Kilfrie knew what
she was doing, and that there was nothing to worry about. Still a deep disquiet seemed to grow.
They all froze when they heard the
sound. The scream broke loud and
frightful, carried on the cold north wind. It was the panther. Even Tolian could hear the surprise, pain and
terror that rang out in that bestial cry mixed with a disturbingly human
quality.
“Kilfrie!” Myrthis cried.
Everyone sprang up.
“Ready your weapons!” Tolian
shouted. She drew her sword, a sword she
had drawn as a man a thousand times before.
This time it was different. His
trusted blade had never let him down, yet Tolian felt herself wishing it were
the Moonsword that she had seen in her visions, instead.
The entire party (save Kilfrie, of
course) did as Tolian commanded. They
looked anxiously into the forest. They
could see nothing, but the sounds were unmistakable. Several creatures were approaching quickly
and noisily over the think carpet of fallen leaves which covered the forest’s
floor. They were snarling and growling
with frightening ferocity. The faerie
horses neighed in fear.
“Wolves!” exclaimed Kalabred.
“Werewolves,” Findelbres amended
softly.
Tolian steeled herself as the beasts
broke into the clearing. They were
gigantic monsters of horrifying appearance.
They bore a resemblance to other wolves Tolian had seen before, with a
few noticeable exceptions. They were, of
course, far larger than normal wolves.
They carried themselves differently as well, alternatively moving on all
fours and raising themselves so that they traveled about on their rear legs in
a swift run. There was a small trace of
humanity in their facial structure, though their savage demeanor concealed most
of it. The growls that issued from their
snarling mouths sent a shiver through Tolian’s spine.
They crossed the distance from the
woods to the camp with surprising swiftness, immediately surrounding the entire
party. The horses bolted in terror. Three of them were felled by the bestial
monsters with rapidity. The three
werewolves involved in the slaughter quickly resumed their
positions about the defenders. They
appeared to relish their tactical advantage and circled Tolian and her
companions. They rose to their hind legs
and marched around with sadistic enthusiasm.
One of the werewolves shocked
everyone by speaking in gruff but understandable human speech, “Surrender
yourselves, and we shall kill you quickly and painlessly. Fight and we shall be slow about our task. The choice is yours.”
Tolian stepped a few feet out from
the others, “A proud boast from a pack of curs.
Leave now while you can, warn your master, that Tolian, Prince of Lorm
is coming for him. If you do not, I
shall skin you and wear your furry hide as a cloak.”
She spoke bravely; she allowed no
fear or doubt into her voice. The
werewolves were unimpressed by her courage, however.
Once again the werewolf leader
growled forth words, “Our master has no fear of you, woman. Prepare to die.” Saliva dripped from its fangs as it spoke.
It howled with thunderous vigor, and
at once the circling werewolves leapt into the attack. A calmness fell on Tolian.
She shouted back to Delorick,
“Protect Myrthis and Kilfrie!” and then she rushed forward to meet one of the
beasts as it rushed forward.
She met the werewolf in mid air. Its claws sliced easily through her armor
sending a sharp pain into her shoulder and down her left arm. Blood sprayed out of the wound. She grasped the beast roughly by the throat
and with a single stroke of her sword cleaved its head right off and sent it
flying about twenty feet. She threw down the lifeless carcass in disgust.
Two more werewolves sprang upon
her. They knocked her roughly to the ground. She could hear the screams and yells of her
companions in their struggles, but she could not turn her attention to
them. Another werewolf pounced upon her
as well. She was getting angry now. Her only thought was to dispatch the beasts
and assist her friends as quickly as possible.
She felt the claws rending her flesh and a set of jaws sink deeply into
her side. She was deafened then by the
sheer volume of the werewolves growling.
Summoning
her strength, she threw one of the beasts shrieking into the forest and she
fought her way up to a standing position. She swung her sword expertly and
backed the creatures off with a couple of blood drawing thrusts.
She allowed herself a moment to check
on her companions. They were fighting
with a fierceness that made her proud.
Kalabred felled one beast with a well placed thrust into the beast’s
heart as she watched. She leaped to the
offensive against her assailants with renewed confidence. She struck and struck again with her sword
until the creatures were little more than blood soaked piles of fur. Three more werewolves broke off their attack
on the others and leapt at Tolian.
Tolian was distracted by Brythia’s
scream, “Kalabred! Watch out.”
She turned to see the valiant druid
fall under a werewolf’s attack. The
thing bit deeply into his throat. At
that moment Tolian herself fell beneath the onslaught of the three beasts. Again she fell, though this time her sword
was thrown from her grasp.
She heard Delorick shouting, “Take
that you bastard!” as she went down.
Then Brythia screamed in great pain
and Findelbres shouted in terror.
Tolian lay there for a moment,
getting savagely mauled as she did so.
She knew that the only chance her friends had was her. Her anger grew to a great fury. She grabbed at two of her wild assailants and
bashed their heads together with all of her strength. Brains splattered over the camp site. The other werewolf paused in a moment of
self-doubt. Tolian balled up her fist
and punched right into the creature’s chest.
Her hand pierced the monster’s flesh and plunged into its heart. It fell instantly dead.
The two monsters that remained were
engaged with her friends. Only Brythia
and Findelbres still stood under their fearsome power. Tolian sped like lightning to where her
remaining companions courageously fought.
The rest happened so quickly that no one, not even Tolian, was entirely
sure what transpired. There was a
brilliant flash of white light, a cry of triumph and Tolian stood there with
two lifeless werewolf carcasses in her hands.
She was dazed.
Brythia and Findelbres looked at her
in amazement. The three of them just
stared dumbly at each other. Findelbres’
voice brought them back to the situation.
“Quickly, we must sort the dead from
the wounded,” said the faerie in grimly urgent tones. “And help those that can be helped.”
End of Part II
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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