We continued our long march through the mountains later the next morning. Goran had apparently woken long before the rest of us and sent Ann back to bed, taking on last watch. I was grateful for the opportunity to get more sleep and was feeling fresh and limber in the crisp clean mountain air.
We made good time as the mountain path straightened out and began to slope downward. We scampered down the path and found that it broadened out into the wide clearing and a forest. But the trees of this forest were different from what most of us had ever seen before. I recognized the tall and pointy green trees from the view of the clearing that Al and I had gotten while scouting. This was a different place, but the trees seemed to be the same. I was surprised to see that they didn’t have normal leaves, but a multitude of little green strips that ended in a thin point on each limb. Snow accumulated on multiple levels of their boughs in an ascending hierarchy toward their pointed tops.
The others inspected our surroundings with wonder as moved through the middle of this miniature forest. Little white Wingen, vermin with long bushy tails and webbed wings, stood on the branches and inspected our passing party with curiosity. It seemed like every variant of creature up north was white, besides the Maegar of course.
After several hours of moving through the snow of the forest floor, though, I started to think this forest wasn’t so miniature. We decided to make camp in the middle of the forest at midday, taking the time to do a bit of lumberjacking and replenish our firewood. But the end of the woods didn’t seem to be in sight even as we moved on and the light of noonday began to wane in the late afternoon, and eventually twilight. The sky was overcast, so daylight began to diminish even earlier than usual, especially in the mountains. The snowy forest in began to shift from a winter wonderland to an ominous dreamscape, lit only by the faint orange embers of a waning sun.
Just as I was about to suggest we make camp for the night, Goran signaled that we should stop. I had just set my things down when I noticed that he had remained on alert, scanning the depths of the forest for an unseen quarry. I quickly looked at Al and my heart started racing when I realized that he was doing the same. I had just drawn my weapons when he pointed in a specific direction and called out, causing all of us to swivel towards where he was pointing.
I couldn’t see anything yet, but I soon heard Victor call out from somewhere behind me:
“They blend into their surroundings, but I think there are four of them. Can’t quite make out what they are, but they seem like canines.”
Canines? Maybe Paeric? We should be able to handle 4, even without Goran. I relax a bit before I hear him call out again:
“They’re definitely larger than Paeric. Prepare for a serious fight.”
I tense again. Should I try an Oxen’s Bellow? They were too far away for me to be accurate, but they would close the gap soon. That would leave me vulnerable, though. A last resort, then.
Before I could spring into action, I felt wind kick up nearby and saw a black blur sprinting through the trees in front of me. The rest of us gaped in surprise for a moment at the speed demonstrated by our newfound ally before the rest of us fighters got our act together and dashed after him. Just up ahead, I saw Goran make contact with the first of our foes and, with a swift movement that I barely recognized as a sword strike, decapitated the lead foe. He kept moving after the strike, weaving through the claws of two of the other enemies, and I finally began to get a clear look at them as we ran to support him.
Their faces were large and wolflike, snarling at Goran as they encircled him, though their arms and claws were more feline and retractable. They sported long, pure white manes behind their white furred heads, but the ivory fur of their body was speckled with small black dots. They sported thin and white tails that ended in round tufts of black fur, and their four-legged shoulders came up to my midsection. They were fast and vicious, but Goran was faster, adroitly spinning his obsidian curved sword to deflect incoming blows and score cuts on the bodies of his opponents.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Ann was the first human to make contact with the unwitting creatures and one of them was quick enough to spin around and deflect her incoming strike. The distraction, though, was enough of an opening that Goran used to decapitate another of the deadly foes. As Ann stared down one of the would-be hunters, Goran’s remaining opponent turned tail and ran. Right into the waiting arms of Julia and me. It dodged her initial spear strike, but that lead it right into my waiting blades, which took it right in the neck. I was surprised at the vigor it demonstrated as it squirmed against my blades, its jaws still snapping to get a grip on my arm.
I narrowly managed to avoid being disemboweled by a swipe of its claws while keeping my grip on my blades. I hastily summon the strength to wrench my swords down and through its neck as Goran attacked the enemy Ann was distracting, ending the fight.
I took a moment to gaze with some awe, not at the powerful hunters that had just threatened us, but at the tall warrior whose deep black sword gleamed in the late afternoon light. Goran had moved with incredible strength and grace, as he did even now as he quickly rid his sword of the beast’s blood and rewrapped his blade. If we had needed to fight those four by ourselves, we might have lost someone, even with my Oxen’s Bellow. If we needed to fight Goran ourselves, I wasn’t convinced that we would win.
I quietly hoped that we could trust our newfound ally, as we all walked back towards the non-combatants, carrying the spoils of war.
We quickly busied ourselves carving into our share of the beasts, which Goran generously split evenly with us, even though he scored the finishing blow on two of them. As we prepared the carcasses, we questioned him on what they were:
“Your people refer to them as the Eirblaidd, and mine refer to them simply as the Cur’tok. We were lucky to run into a wild group, as most of them are owned and controlled by the Harai. Unlike their masters, their flesh is very beneficial for one's physical development. Their skins will fetch a hefty price, as hunting them is very difficult. These prizes will help my village survive these difficult times.”
“What’s happening with your people?” Julia queried, concerned.
Goran sighed, before continuing:
“The Harai have grown bolder in their operations against my people. They have assaulted our hunting parties and hunted our traditional game, without even consuming that game themselves. They merely seek to weaken us and encroach on our territory. Their new chief is both bellicose and confident.”
“What is a Harai?”
“They are humanoid like you and I, though they lack facial features. Their skin is blue, with white body hair like this Cur’tok. I do not know the word for them in your people’s vocabulary.”
Al and I exchanged glances, before he piped up:
“So, a Faceless Snowwraith? Do they move quickly and fight with the claws on the tips of their fingers?”
He nodded, and the rest of the humans looked at me in confusion. Al proceeded to tell the story of our little scouting mission and our face off against the Wraith. We hadn’t managed to recount our experiences amidst all the confusion caused by Goran’s arrival. After that, we finished our story with the final confrontation with the Neidyr, and Goran nodded in respect:
“An elite Harai is a true enemy, and they possess abilities beyond their sharp claws. You have fought well to make it thus far. I hope the Maegar can look forward to your aid in the coming days. We would compensate you for any help you could provide, of course.”
That last comment actually eased my mind a little. True altruism was difficult to find in this world, so it was hard to believe that Goran had invited us to his home simply out of the goodness of his heart. But if he was taking the opportunity to recruit some temporary help to aide his people in difficult times, then that made sense.
We continued to chat as the daylight waned, talking about our homes, and finding mutual solace in the difficulties that we have faced. He seemed truly fascinated at our accounts of having grown up totally isolated from the outside world, though the Maegar were secluded enough that his experiences of the rest of the world were similarly limited.
We were equally fascinated to hear stories of the Maegar home city. They lived in what Goran described as a massive cave, with carved stone being the primary building material for their homes. Though, apparently, they had no Masons to manipulate and carve these stone buildings. They were forced to compensate by using various stone working techniques alongside their fire manipulation abilities to make the stone more malleable.
We finished preparing our newly won spoils by the light of a campfire, though we were wise enough to go to get rest even earlier tonight, leaving whoever was keeping watch to tend the fire and cook our hard-won meat. In contrast to us, though, Goran kept his Eirblaidd carcasses skinned but intact and he cooked them independently with his own fire manipulation abilities. We could have asked him to cook ours as well, but we needed the campfire to help stay warm anyways. We weren’t totally impervious to the cold like Goran seemingly was, and this forest had some chilly winds.
I enjoyed falling asleep to the sound of a merry campfire and the distance squeaking of the Wingen that inhabited the trees around us. It was colder in the open air, so we all huddled closely together under a tree by the fire. Hope snuggled up to me on my left, and I was interested to see that even Goran had chosen to sleep closer to us than last night, his body heat providing some well received additional warmth.