“Well, Barnstabrake, if nothing else we were right in the end about all this being a trap.”

“I’m not at all convinced we were right in springing it on purpose for ourselves, though.”

“No time to ponder the choices of life. Look sharp! Keep your sword in front of you and whack with everything you’ve got if one of them rushes. Careful now!”

Gates and Harlow stood back to back with naked blades shining red in the dawn as three great wolves slowly circled them, howling and snarling and darting forward now and then in snapping feints as they probed their victims’ defense.

The two men had tracked the mysterious fire all night, winding their way through night washed brush and murky bramble as they pressed ever towards the enigmatic glint in the dark. Their course had gradually led them to the base of a substantial hill, and it was not until twilight that they reached the summit. There they found at last the smouldering remains of the elusive flame, which proved to have been a large bonfire built atop a grassy knoll that crested the hill.

And midway or so up the face of the knoll, was the gaping mouth of a barrow.

Scattered about were also signs of prolonged habitation; stumps both fresh and weathered, a large store of firewood, stores of tools, and a well built firepit. Gates was immediately convinced that this was indeed Larch’s principal base of operations, to which he and Harlow had been deliberately lured as part of a trap that was no doubt waiting for them this very moment.

It was Gates’s opinion that the best course would be to attempt to spring the trap prematurely, whatever it was. It was Harlow’s opinion that he would have no part of such a foolhardy thing, and wouldn’t it be better if they repaired back to the village to bring back a larger and better armed body of men? This was, in the opinion of Gates, a rotten idea as Larch’s decision to prepare an ambush at his camp rather than elsewhere meant that he was very much afraid to divide his forces at present, which might suggest that something rather interesting indeed was occurring at this moment. Larch seemed to have bitten off more than he could chew, for he hadn’t even laid any simple jinxes about that Gates could detect. If Larch were sufficiently overwhelmed that he would neglect even basic precautions such as laying a latent Imbroglius or a spread of Dopplewisps then he was very preoccupied indeed, which gave Gates and Harlow an opportunity that could not be afforded a miss. It was then Harlow’s observation that perhaps they should hold off for a bit anyway, just to have a look at what Larch might have in store for them. It was then that Harlow observed that Gates was not listening and had already started off out into the clearing, and Harlow saw nothing for it but to catch up and pray for the best, and hope Gates knew what he was doing.

Whatever the wisdom of his resolution, Gates’s scheme to spring whatever trap lay before him did not fall short of expectations. The moment he and Harlow we far enough into the clearing to exclude a quick escape back into the woods there was a tremendous howl, and three great black wolves bounded out upon them from all sides.

Harlow fired a wild shot which went wide as the wolves closed in, still howling. And now here he and Gates were, back to back with a ring of wolves about them and heaven knew what else waiting for them.

From somewhere on his person Gates had produced a long, wicked dirk nearly as large as Harlow’s own painfully diminutive hunting sword, wielding it with in tandem with his great sword.

Round and round the wolves circled, darting forward now and then to snap between the whirl and jab of blade as they patiently wore down their victims, their crimson eyes only a bit more faint in the fiery light of the blood hungry dawn.

Again and again the wolves attacked and retreated, each lunge only half a feint as they tested for openings through which to inevitably charge and crush their prey in their great slavering jaws.

Gates let his guard drop for a moment and one of the wolves lunged forward with a ravening snarl as it’s splayed jaws flew to Gates’s throat, only to have its head neatly split in a shower of blood as Gates clove the monster’s skull nearly in two as he brought his blade back from the deceptive invitation with which he had baited the creature.

“Ha! There’s one down! See, you beasts? See what’s in store for you!”

The two remaining wolves howled in feral rage as their eyes blazed garnet. They circled more carefully now, slavering and snarling with the fire of Hell smouldering in their eyes.

And then, from the entrance of the Barrow only just above them, Kador emerged.

When the clamour of the wolves had reached an abrupt and frenzied zenith Kador had abandoned his hitherto abortive assault on Fanny and rushed out of the Barrow into the waxing sunlight. Whatever was going on outside, it had caused her assailant no small amount of disturbance, and Fanny did not tarry any longer than it took her mind to keep up with the turn of events spinning around her.

Of the two men still gripping her like pythons she delivered a kick to one and a bite to the other, and then proceeded in a similar vein of biting, kicking, scratching and screaming as the startled men struggled haphazardly to gain mastery over their prisoner.

Suddenly first one released her, and then the other, as each was struck in turn with one or more passionately projected stones.

“Run aside Fanny! We’ve cut ourselves free!”

Fanny dropped to the floor and rolled over and aside as from the mass of cut rope and shredded net in the corner arose the barbarians Howard like two genies possessed of uncontrollable fury, stones and knives clutched in tiny white knuckled hands. Fanny was barely out of the way when the two boys commenced a well directed and wrath fueled volley of rocks and pen knives at the confounded guards.

Their ammunition was limited however and the guards were quickly collecting themselves, and Fanny wasted not a moment in leaping to her feet and battering both of them with the insidious metal bowl Larch had abandoned in their midst.

“Hurry boys, one of you seize Agatha and we’ll run!”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Both savages scurried forward and seized the limbs of the petrified Agatha Watson as Fanny administered a last salvo upon Larch’s minions. Together with Agatha pliantly in tow Fanny broke and ran for the passage to freedom with her brothers as the two battered villains were sorting themselves out from the Barrow floor.

Meanwhile, Larch stood at the mouth of the Barrow, looking down at where Gates and Harlow stood against the orbiting wolves.

Gates brandished his sword in Larch’s direction.

“Come on out, knavish idiot! Your dogs are one short and they need a replacement. Come down and join the other animals, and share the fate we’ll give them!”

Larch glanced in either direction. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted.

“Now Brungus! Strike now with your people! Now!!!”

But there was no reply.

The wolves surged forward and Gates and Harlow fended them off yet again. Larch ran frantically towards the treeline and shouted again.

“What are your waiting for! Curse you, Brungus, tell your people to attack! Brungus!”

But from the trees came nothing. Larch ran back and forth before the line of woods, shouting and cursing as he stood alone with his back to his enemy.

Gates swore an oath and then hurled himself forward at the nearest wolf, striking the surprised animal down as he charged over the wolf’s body and headed straight for Larch.

The last remaining wolf roared to its master and Larch turned to the warning from behind as the wolf then galloped for Gates’s back.

But the wolf had barely begun its charge before Harlow stepped in its path with sword arm outstretched. With an inhuman scream both went tumbling down the hillside in a mass of man, fur, and splashing blood.

Gates uttered a fanatical cry in a peculiar language and lunged for Larch. Larch turned and bolted for the woods with Gates close on his heels.

Inside the barrow, Fanny ran with every strand of her spirit, arms full of her brothers as Agatha trailed behind in confusion. Down the tunnel she could hear the terrible curses and oaths of Larch’s men as they stormed in pursuit.

But Larch had prepared in advance for the possibility of escape. Abruptly the prisoner’s mad flight was arrested as they encountered a trip cord set just a few feet from the cave entrance, snaring the fleeing prisoners and throwing them into a broken tumble in the floor as Larch’s men closed in.

The two men were running headlong towards them when there was a terrific double blast like thunder.

Both men toppled to the floor in a shattered and bloody mass as the passage filled with acrid smoke. Fanny twisted herself about to look back at the Barrow’s threshold.

There, standing just outside the door, was Albert Stokes, a smoking pistol in each hand.

And from around the corner peeked the curious face of Abigayle Bellingham.

“Why, whatever have you done, my dear Mr. Stokes? Such a dreadful noise and smell, I feel sure the vibrations they produced are of the most deplorable….eeeek! Why, my dear Fanny! My dear Agatha! My dear Little Boys, my dear….oh dear me look at those two fellows, they do look dreadfully unwell…..”

Mr. Stokes had stepped past where Fanny and her charges still lay entangled and was engaged inspecting Larch’s fallen servants, satisfying himself that the hoodlums would never again be of concern to anyone.

“Are there any more pirates inside?”

“.....Pirates? I mean, no, Mr. Stokes. There were only the two…and Mr. Larch.”

“Kador! Kador! What has happened? What has become of everything? What...what am I…”

Agatha collapsed into sobs on the ground, he hands tearing violently at the grass outside the Barrow.

“Dear me! I’m afraid dear Agatha is most unwell! Have cheer, dear Agatha, have cheer! For the dear sun brings forth his rays upon the morn and the Sylphs do tend the flowers…..oh my, but this is the palace of the Forest God, is it not? I simply knew we were following the right signs!”

“Miss Howard, pray explain what you meant in reference to Mr. Larch?”

“It was he who abducted Miss Watson, Miss Bellingham, and myself. He and….well…..his associates.”

“These two here?”

“Yes, and...well, er…”

“Why the Kobalds, of course!”

“Ah yes, quite right Miss Bellingham, the Kobalds.”

Mr. Stokes prodded the bodies of Larch’s accomplices with his boot.

“Well, there’ll be nothing more from these two, at any rate. So it was Mr. Larch, was it? That’s quite astonishing, I never would have thought the man was such a desperate character.”

“As indeed was the case with all of us, it would seem.”

“It certainly would never have occurred to me that he was a pirate, to be sure.”

“A pirate? Ah, well….I suppose you could call him that, in a way. In fact, I don’t really know how else I could possibly explain him to the neighborhood.”

“He’s definitely not a Forest God, I think I was wrong about that after all. See, my dear Mr. Stokes, I can be reasonable!”

“Indeed, very considerate of you I’m sure, Miss Bellingham.”

“But there were Kobalds, I’m sure of it! I’m sure there was a Kobald prince involved somewhere along the way, Prince Ardent Fancy himself, perhaps.”

“...Oh dear Lord.”

“Fanny! Fanny! Come here quick! We found Harlow Barnstabrake just down the hill, and he looks to be in a terrible state!”

The blackness pulled away like so many clinging cobwebs and Harlow was beginning to feel aware of his own existence again. That, and of a peculiarly pleasurable sensation from somewhere about his head.

The red bloodstain of dawn had been washed clean, and the sun shone through the crystal blue of a pure sky.

Harlow was lying stretched in the grass, bruised, bloodied, and aching most everywhere. A few feet away his sword was buried to the hilt in the carcass of a great wolf. Neither Gates nor Larch were anywhere to be seen, and the air was still.

And to his astonishment Harlow realized that he was being cradled against the otherworldly softness of a woman’s body, his head resting scandalously through thin rain soaked cloth against a silken breast while slender fingers massaged his head anxiously.

He looked up astoundedly to meet the eyes of Fanny Howard.

He features bore a distinctly peculiar and inscrutable expression. Harlow gulped as he stared back.

“Er….I say. What has happened?”

Fanny replied in neutral tone with no change to her countenance.

“Miss Watson, myself and my brothers are liberated. Larch is still at large, but we are free and safe. Larch’s henchmen are dead, as are the wolves.”

“Miss Watson free, eh? I say, I’ve rather been looking for her, don’t you know. Didn’t know he’d gotten you too. So sorry, don’t you know. Glad I was here, I suppose, for whatever little good I’m worth. Oh dear, I’m feeling a bit dizzy again I think.”

Fanny held Harlow just a bit more closely to her person.

“Well done nonetheless, Mr. Barnstabrake. Well done indeed.”