MOTH: Chapter 39

Rondar crouched in the underbrush, his heart pounding like a war drum. He watched as the gnoll camp erupted into chaos, howls and barks echoing off the trees.

A gnoll from the hunting party had returned, yelping about an ambush, about arrows that glowed with dwarven magic cutting them down. The news sent the rest of the pack into a frenzy. Warriors snatched up weapons, females herded pups into tents, all snarling and snapping in agitation.

Good lad, Rondar thought. Ye really pulled it off.

Darian's plan had worked like a charm. The gnolls couldn't resist the lure of an easy meal. But now the camp was nearly empty as the remaining warriors raced off to aid their packmates, leaving only a few guards and the noncombatants behind.

Rondar's eyes darted around the camp. But where was that blasted shaman? Foul dark magic user should be preparing for the feast ceremony.

He paled as he remembered the shaman cutting through his kin's defenses like a sickle through wheat, defeating even mighty Bolhar. If that fiend was here this rescue would turn to slaughter right quick, Rondar thought grimly. Please, Malach, let the bastard stay gone.

But no chanting or eldritch lights revealed the shaman's presence. Rondar breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Small favours. He glanced at Durek and the others, still lashed to those cruel posts. So close. Just a little longer.

The remaining gnolls paced and growled, clearly agitated but unwilling to abandon their captives. Rondar picked up his axe and hammer, the runes flaring to life along the blades. No more waiting.

"Just like old times, eh?" Rondar muttered. "Let's show these dog-humpin' curs what happens when ye cross the Glintshield Clan."

Quick and quiet as a shadow, Rondar slipped from the brush towards the camp's rear. He avoided the main path. The few gnolls he passed were facing out, attention on the forest and the distant sounds of battle.

Rondar paused by one such guard, a scrawny pup trying to look fierce with a spear clutched in his paws. The dwarf almost felt sorry for him. Then he remembered the cage full of battered dwarf children and his heart hardened.

"Psst," Rondar hissed. The pup's ears twitched but before he could turn, Rondar's axe took him in the throat. The gnoll crumpled without a sound.

One down. Moving swiftly, Rondar cut a path through the camp, leaving a trail of still, furry lumps in his wake. Most never saw him coming. The few that did died with the word dwarf on their lips, hammer and axe working in perfect tandem to crush and slice.

At last, panting and splattered in blood, Rondar reached the posts at the camp's centre. His kin sagged against their bonds, eyes wide above their ragged beards.

"Rondar!" his cousin Bolhar croaked. "By the gods, I can't believe it..."

"Believe it, ye mangy git," Rondar growled. "Now shut it 'fore ye bring the whole bleedin' forest down on us."

Bolhar quietened down, hands flexing weakly. Rondar made quick work of the ropes with the edge of his axe. They parted one by one, and dwarves stumbled free, rubbing life back into numb limbs. Some sported vicious wounds but all stood as straight and proud as they were able. His kin were a tough lot.

"The womenfolk and wee ones," Rondar barked. "Get them free and moving. They head straight west, no stoppin' til they reach the tunells."

The dwarves nodded, already moving to obey. Rondar turned to the handful of battlemages and warriors, their robes and armour torn but eyes bright with bloodlust.

"Durek, Kelvhan, with me," Rondar ordered. "We've a brave lad out there what needs our help. He’s the only reason any of us still draw breath."

Durek, Rondar's shield brother since their beardling days, raised an eyebrow. "A lad? Ye've taken up with humans now, Ron?"

"Aye, and a braver one ye'll never meet," Rondar snapped. "Now stow yer gab and move!"

Ripping a pouch from his belt, Rondar tossed it to Kelvhan. The younger dwarf caught it, frowning at the sloshing within.

"Healin' draft," Rondar explained. "Ain't much and it ain't strong, but it'll put the fire back in yer bellies. Pass it around, one swig each, then get those civilians out o' here."

Kelvhan's eyes widened. Healing potions of any potency were rarer than a beardless dwarf. For Rondar to have saved these, even while injured himself...

"Malach’s hammer, ye mad bastard," Kelvhan breathed. "When did ye turn into such a bleedin' heart?"

Rondar just shouldered past him, Durek falling in at his side. "Since a scrawny human boy shamed me with his courage. I'll not be lettin' him down now."

Ignoring the open-mouthed stares of his kin, Rondar plunged back into the trees.

Hold on, lad. Just hold on.

***

Darian's arms burned. His fingers cramped on his bowstring. Sweat and blood - some his, most not - plastered his hair to his forehead and stung his eyes.

But still he fired, swift and sure. Arrow after arrow leapt from his bow, burying themselves in gnoll flesh. Blue-white light flickered and flared as each projectile found its mark, dropping the beasts mid-stride.

I'm doing it, Darian thought. I'm really doing it!

When the first wave of gnolls charged into the clearing, Darian had nearly been overwhelmed. Only the power of his enchanted bow and his own desperate terror kept him from panicking entirely.

But as he dropped more and more of the beasts, a strange calm settled over him. His hands steadied, his breathing evened. The snarls and yelps faded to a distant buzz. There was only the target, the arrow, and the singing thrum of the bowstring.

It almost felt like one of his practice sessions with Thomas behind the village wall. If Thomas had been a three-hundred-pound death dog, anyway.

Time lost all meaning. Darian's world narrowed to the mechanical motions of nock, draw, aim, loose. Nock, draw, aim, loose. Over and over, a deadly dance.

A startled yip drew his eye. He knew that patchwork hide, even matted with blood - Bladeswipes, the gnoll lieutenant Rondar had warned him about. If he was dead, then the ambush had to be nearly over. He'd done it!

But Darian's grin died as an eerie howl rose from the trees beyond the clearing. The underbrush shook and a new wave of gnolls poured into view, a tide of tooth and claw.

They’re here faster than I expected, Darian realized with a sinking heart. I have to get out of here!

The gnolls had already caught his scent. Lips peeled back from yellowed fangs and red eyes glared murder as they charged towards his perch.

Darian let loose one last shot and then he was moving, swinging down from the tree, and hitting the ground at a sprint. Howls rang out behind him as the gnolls gave chase.

That's it, you stupid mutts, Darian thought as he plunged through the trees. Follow me.

It was a crazy plan. His mother would box his ears if she knew he was playing bait for a pack of monsters. But with Rondar waiting back at the camp, picking off pursuers would be shooting fish in a barrel for the dwarf and his kin. All he had to do was safely circle back to the campsite.

If I can just stay ahead of them, Darian thought as he jumped a deadfall. If I don't trip or lose the trail...

The growls and yips grew louder. Snarls snapped at his heels. Darian's lungs heaved and his calves burned as he pushed himself faster.

I'm not going to make it, he realized. They're too fast, too close. I'll never reach Rondar in time...

He'd failed. Failed Rondar, failed the dwarf’s family still in danger back at the camp. Some hero he'd turned out to be. He'd been so sure, so confident, so stupid-

A deep war cry shattered the air. A blur of movement, a flash of steel. Suddenly Darian was tumbling to the dirt, he quickly rolled to his feet, heart in his throat - only to sag in relief as he recognized Rondar and a group of dwarf warriors standing over the twitching corpses of his pursuers.

"There ye are, lad!" Rondar boomed. "I was startin' to think ye'd hared off and left us to grow fat and bored."

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up Darian's throat. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Got to keep you on your toes in your old age."

Rondar snorted and cuffed Darian's shoulder. "Aye, and ye've done a proper job of it." He sobered. "Truly, lad, I...we all...owe ye a debt we can’t repay."

The other dwarves - battered, bloodied, but eyes shining - rumbled agreement. Darian felt his cheeks heat.

"It was nothing," he mumbled. "You'd have done the same for me."

"Not in me first beard, I wouldn't have!" one dwarf chortled. "Ye've got steel in yer spine, boy. I'll never speak ill of humans again, swear by Malach’s hammer."

Before Darian could stammer a reply, Rondar stiffened. His head came up, nostrils flaring. "Arm yerselves, lads," the dwarf growled. "We're not out o' the nest yet."

The dwarves closed ranks around Darian, weapons bristling. Rondar shoved him behind his broad back, axe and hammer at the ready.

Darian went cold. He'd thought it was over. He'd been so relieved to see Rondar, he hadn't even thought...

The trees rustled. Branches snapped and foliage shivered. Something was coming, something big.

What was it?

He got his answer a moment later as the brush at the edge of the clearing exploded outwards and the biggest gnoll he'd ever seen shouldered into view. It towered head and shoulders over even Breck, its dark fur crisscrossed with battle scars.

But it was the eyes that snared Darian - pits of malevolent red that burned with cruel intelligence. This was no mere beast. This was a leader, a chieftain...a Warlord.

"Dwarf," the gnoll rumbled, voice like millstones grinding. "You have stolen from me. You will return what is mine...or pay the price."

Rondar shifted his grip on his axe, lip curling in a sneer. "Garnak. I'd hoped ye'd turn up. We have a score to settle, you and I."

Garnak tilted his head, jaws parting in a sharp-toothed leer. "As you wish, little dwarf. Your death will be a fine appetizer before the main course."

Those hellish eyes flicked to Darian and the boy shuddered. "The man-whelp looks tender. I will enjoy picking my teeth with his bones."

Rondar snarled, beard bristling. "Ye'll not touch him, monster. Not while I draw breath."

"Brave words," Garnak chuckled darkly. "Let us see how long your courage lasts."

And with a roar that shook the leaves from the trees, the Warlord charged.

Despite his size, Garnak moved with terrifying speed. He covered the distance between them in seconds, claws outstretched and jaws wide.

But Rondar was faster. With a bark of his own, the dwarf lunged to meet Garnak's attack, axe and hammer blurring. The weapons smashed into the gnoll's chest with a meaty crunch, rocking him back on his heels.

Garnak staggered, more surprised than hurt. But he recovered quickly, a vicious grin splitting his muzzle. "First blood to you, dwarf," he growled. "It will be your last!"

He came at Rondar in a frenzy, claws hacking and slashing. The dwarf danced back, parrying madly. Sparks flew as steel clashed against claw, the sound ringing through the clearing.

The other dwarves surged forward with roars of their own, eager to aid their leader. But Garnak was ready for them. His claws flashed out, batting dwarves aside like toys. Durek went flying into the bushes, beard over boots. Even Grimgar was forced back, bleeding from a gash across his brow.

"Is this the best the great Glintshields have to offer?" Garnak crowed, smashing Rondar's hammer aside. "Your clan has grown weak hiding in your mountains and tunnels!"

"Not as weak as yer flea-bitten hide's about to be!" snarled a new voice. Kelvhan stepped up beside Rondar, hands weaving mystical patterns in the air. Her fingers flared and blue bolts of magical flame struck Garnak's chest.

The gnoll roared in pain, fur crisping and flesh bubbling under the magical onslaught. He reeled away, beating at the flames.

Kelvhan turned to Rondar with a fierce grin. "Never were one for fightin' fair, were ye, cap'n?"

Rondar snorted. "Against this bastard? Not a chance."

Garnak rounded on them with murder in his eyes, muzzle peeling back from his fangs. "Tricks!" he roared. "Coward dwarf tricks! Face me blade to blade if you dare!"

But even as he spoke, Durek pushed himself out of the bushes, Grimgar at his side. Weapons clenched in their fists, the dwarves charged back into the fray from behind Garnak.

At the same moment, Kelvhan hurled another fireball and Rondar lunged in, axe swinging for the chieftain's neck. Attacked from all sides, Garnak found himself hard-pressed to fend off the dwarves' coordinated assault.

Darian watched in awe as the battle between the dwarves and Garnak raged before him. The speed and ferocity of the combatants was beyond anything he'd ever witnessed.

As much as he wanted to help his dwarven companions, Darian knew that to get involved now could be disastrous. The fighters were a blur, shifting and striking faster than the eye could follow. If he shot an arrow, he was as likely to hit friend as foe.

Feeling helpless, Darian tore his gaze from the battle and began scanning the trees. Rondar's warning about gnoll shamans rang in his ears. One of those vile spellcasters could turn the tide against even the most stout dwarf. If one should appear now...

A rustle in the bushes sent Darian's heart leaping into his throat. His bowstring creaked as he drew it back to his ear, ready to loose at the first sign of mottled fur or glowing eyes. Seconds crawled past as he waited, hardly daring to breathe.

But no shaman materialized from the shadows. No fresh wave of howling gnolls burst from the trees. Slowly, Darian exhaled, relaxing his draw by a finger's breadth. Perhaps luck was with them. Perhaps Garnak had really arrived alone...

Rondar’s roar dragged Darian's attention back to the battle. "How'd ye like us coward tricks now, ye bloody mongrel?”

The dwarf smashed his hammer into Garnak's knee.

The Warlord stumbled with an agonized yelp. Grimgar and Durek hacked at him repeatedly, driving him further back. Step by staggering step, the dwarves forced Garnak away from Darian, away from the path leading back to their people.

But even wounded and beset on all sides, Garnak was far from finished. With a snarl of desperate fury, the gnoll pushed himself forward in a mighty leap, flying over the dwarves' heads to land behind them with a large thud. Yellow eyes fixed on Darian, glazed with pain and hatred.

"If I cannot have the rest," the Warlord groaned through cracked and bleeding lips, "I will at least have you, man-whelp!"

Garnak lunged for Darian with terrible speed, claws extended. Darian cried out, scrambling backwards, but he was too slow. In a second the chieftain would be on him, fangs ripping and tearing...

Rondar slammed into the gnoll from the side in a textbook shoulder check, knocking Garnak sprawling. The dwarf captain roared as he bore the Warlord to the ground, pinning the monster down.

"Lad!" Rondar bellowed over his shoulder, straining to keep Garnak contained. "Lad, yer bow! Shoot!"

Darian stared for a split second. Then he was moving, in one smooth motion he drew the bowstring to his cheek, and sighted down the shaft.

At this range, not even the mighty Warlord could survive the punching force of Darian's enchanted arrows. One shot was all it would take to end the chieftain. To secure the dwarves' escape and make safe their rescue. All Darian had to do was let loose.

But even as his fingers tightened, Garnak ripped one taloned hand free of Rondar's grip. Snarling in desperation, the gnoll chieftain swiped wildly at his dwarven captor...and connected.

Rondar howled as the razor claws laid open his arm from elbow to wrist. Bright blood sprayed and the dwarf's grip loosened. It was enough. With a heave, Garnak surged upright, throwing Rondar off him.

"Fool dwarf!" the gnoll roared. "You should have fled when you had the chance! Now you will watch the man-whelp die at my feet!"

Garnak whirled on Darian, claws dripping with Rondar's blood. The boy gasped, bow wavering. His target was clear, but with Rondar clutching at the gnoll's waist...

"Darian!" the dwarf captain cried through gritted teeth. "Take the shot, lad! Take it now!"

Darian felt sick. He had a clear shot at Garnak's heart...but he'd have to shoot through Rondar’s shoulder to take it. Miss even slightly and that yard-long shaft would punch straight through the injured dwarf’s head.

Garnak seemed to read the hesitation in Darian's eyes. His lips peeled back from his fangs in a terrible grin.

"Yes," the gnoll hissed. "Not such an easy choice, is it, whelp? Loose your shaft and risk skewering your precious dwarf...or hold, and watch him die under my claws along with you."

Garnak raised a claw. Rondar groaned through teeth clenched against the pain of his savaged arm, struggling to hold on. The other dwarves cried in horror but they were too far away, still struggling to their feet from where Garnak had tossed them. They would never reach their captain in time.

It all came down to Darian. To his bow, his aim...and his nerve.

"Darian!" Rondar gasped out. Desperate eyes bored into the boy's. "Forget about me! Loose, damn ye! LOOSE!"

The howling fear in Darian's mind crystalized into icy, diamond-sharp focus. The world fell away until there was only the arrow, the bow, and his target.

Exhaling, Darian did as he was told. He let loose.