Few aside from a handful of the veterans had ever been at the doorstep of the Ghlaírí’s lair before. In fact, most seemed altogether puzzled at the idea of finding not a wide and devouring pit, as had been described in evening tales to frighten children, but rather a plain hole in the ground. The thing was only abut a fathom wide, and just under about a fathom deep before a grassy floor led off to a tunnel in the northeast. Even in the angled light of the evening, not much could be seen past a short distance in the tunnel, and to no one’s surprise, there were no volunteers to jump down and have a closer look.
Although it was well past midday by this point, there was still plenty of light had made the glade almost pleasant. Had the newcomers been unaware of the significance of the place and what dwelt below the ground, they might have had no fears greater than snakes or spiders, and some might have jumped casually into the hole to see what the cause was for such a strange place. As it was, however, no one stood closer than the reach of their spears, everyone circled to surround the gaping pit, and no one was without great reluctance to get anywhere near it.
The squads remained close to each other, looking about for any sort of order from the captains who were all engaged in deep discussion with the chieftain, standing some distance away from the three groups. After a time, the captains came over to make some inquiry or give instruction to reposition their formations. It seemed to the men as though no clear decision of an actual position or even tactic had been decided upon, for one could hardly finish moving to his new place before another corrected order came to assume a new sort of shape. One moment, the squads were cohesively placed in such ways to lead an assault, and the next moment, they were being reshuffled into a totally defensive wall.
There was little banter throughout it all, for now that the men had finally arrived at the doorstep of the Ghlaírí, and most for the first time, clouds of anxiety and fear floated over their heads. Of all, Chief Creich appeared the most distressed and restless, as might be guessed. For every step one of his men took, he took two. For every breath held in anticipation, he heaved three. For long, it seemed as though he was far too eager to rush to the edge of the pit and jump in, but the far more cool-headed minds of the captains convinced him to show some patience and thought. The soldiers all looked at each other uneasily in between glances towards their captains. No one was quite sure of what to do, except to continue to perform whatever order had been last given.
In the end, a bizarre arrangement had come into formation, or at least bizarre to anyone who might look from afar at the scene. As the entrance to the pit offered so limited a space to crowd around and peer inside, the company naturally formed a thick circle, three rows thick, with a few outsiders who continuously moved around the formation and kept an eye out on the glade as a whole. Although there was no apparent reason for any to believe a danger would come to them, or at least, no danger more deadly than that which dwelt inside the cave, the anxieties of the company deserved to be lessened slightly by the knowledge of a rear guard.
Off into the emerald trees they looked, as they slowly paced with strung bows in hand. Perhaps the trees were not truly so green as they now seemed, some thought, but merely appeared so when in such a stark contrast to that dead grass which grew so close as to swoon and break away upon their roots. Beneath each foot of the company, the grass crunched and snapped, and yet only distant rustlings of the leaves could be heard whenever a wind passed through the branches. Just as the wind had blown through the branches, a long rain had passed through the last branch of Leafrise. When it had finally departed, the people of Dórai awoke to find the golden haze of morning shining amid the air, down from above the morning sun, and up from upon the backs of emerald grass. On a northern wind it had traveled in its final days within the region, and as such, the company had found some areas of the forest to still keep some dampness in the ground, despite the last rain being now three days ago.
The forest has a way of thanks with which no word of daír or ekell or inoíde can compete. Wise men have often spoken long verses of gratitude, dreading the final line in fear that a conclusion alone might thereby render their show inadequate, and they would be right. Whatever word may be given, it is only just a word. Whatever thanks may be felt by daír for some gesture, it can only be so much. But when a long cloud of rain and winds pass over a forest, rolling across the sky in a terrible drone, and casting down droplets in numbers unimaginable, unforeseeable, and each one unique in shape and size, there is a pure form of gratitude taking shape. Dazed still from the storm, but not harmed, like a child spinning and then laughing as the world spins after, the trees wait for just a nights’ rest. Thus in the morning, when the sun makes that first appearance over the horizon, and the mists of dew float in the air, a golden light shoots forth throughout the land, awakening the trees. Rising up to greet the gold, the green glimmers in its brilliance. For in truth, no way of thanks can ever be given that can truly compare to that of a tree turning its leaves to deepest emerald in respect for that rain which it has been so lovingly given by the sky. No gratitude can ever be so pure as a leaf that is green and beautiful.
So it was here that the trees were clearly still in great thanks to the rain, and yet that grass within the glade, exposed to both rain and sun, had been dead long before the storm. To see trees of such beauty, swaying in the occasional gust, while each step underfoot produced a sound so similar bones clattering together or of old wood splintering apart, was nearly as terrible a conflict could be as that which those upon the inner circle must have felt. For although those patrollers bore witness to that disturbance of contrasts, they could at least breathe in liberation that it was not they who were to lean forward and be devoured first if the Ghlaírí suddenly should burst out from the pit.
Those on the inside had only the satisfaction in the ability to keep an eye on the source of their fears. For although they stood far too close for comfort, it at least gave them some courage to know that they would be the first to ready themselves in defense. For most of them, that is. In actuality, only about half of the inner circle were older than twenty, and of those that weren’t, this was the first engagement of the sort that they had been upon. Many shook where they stood, unable to hold their spears steady or rotate the circle in time. When a sudden voice broke out from near the edge of the outer circle and roused their attentions, many found themselves jumping in surprise.
“Everyone!” Creich called out, finally addressing the company as a whole for the first time since they had arrived at the clearing, “Prepare yourselves for a defense and keep a mind for anything that pokes its head out of that pit! Now make a way, and bring the wagons closer!” Standing nearby those wagons about which he spoke, he reached up and took hold of the nearest treasure, which happened to be a finely-wrought cup of silver. In the other hand, he seized a small pyramid which showed five legendary scenes on each of its faces.
The crowd hesitantly dispersed around him, creating an open pathway between him and the great hole. Almost before the last man could move out of the way, Creich bustled forth and through to the rim, followed in turn by the three captains.
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The chieftain stood at the edge of the maw while all watched breathlessly. For a moment, just a single fleeting moment, the entire glade waited in silence. No whisper of wind rustled the trees. No shuffle of clothing as any soldier might shift idly from side to side. No hushed voices speculating what might happen. And certainly, without any doubt, no beast or bird dared ever come so close to the cave that even their calls might be heard.
In the next moment, Chief Creich shattered through the silence like a hammer through glass as he let out a great bellow and lifted both cup and trinket above his head. With a great exultation, he flung them down into the darkness of maw, and they clattered many times against the dirt floor, rolling off into the shadows from where neither sight nor sound of either came to the chieftain.
“Ghlaírí!” he shouted, and his rough voice, scratchy from exhaustion, boomed and echoed about the clearing. “Show yourself to me! You might have taken gold and I would grumble at the loss. You could have stolen four dozen kine from the fields of Dórai, and I would soon come to understand the foolishness of ignoring the yearly tribute. Yet that which was seized by your taloned fingers last night can never be replaced, and you can never be forgiven! I have here with me three score of well-armed men, but I also have three times the required tribute in gold and jewels. I will have my Rhíad back, and you shall receive either of which I offer. The choice is yours, Ghlaírí! Gold or steel! Now release the fair Rhíad and make your decision!”
The silence returned.
Many moments passed by without even the slightest sound from the maw of the cave. No soldier dared to utter a word, else he risk the wrath of the chieftain for possibly hindering a quiet answer from within the darkness. Every man in the glade stood like stone for a time so long it felt as though night come come and envelop them.
At long last, Nían, who had followed Chief Creich up to the edge of the pit and kept his spear and shield held ready and fast the whole time, turned to his chieftain and leaned to offer a whisper.
“It will not risk revealing its foul hide to us. There is no advantage to be gained from leaving its domain.” Though his voice was low and given to his chief, the scarred captain never once took his keen eyes off of the pit, nor did his spear waver in the air.
“You are right,” Creich said with a sigh after a long pause. His ringed fingers trembled and curled into fists. “No man shall leave this clearing until Rhíad is safe from the cruelty of that wretched beast,” he said through gritted teeth, “Nor shall the Ghlaírí live to see the morning light if any harm comes to her.”
With a sudden turn, he looked back towards the line of soldiers holding their shields close and their spears afar. “You!” he said, pointing to the nearest of these, a skirmisher of about sixteen, “Lend me your arms for a while, and take up a bow with the archers.” The boy had hardly a chance to react, for his initial instinct was to look to either side in the hopes that Creich had been pointing to either of his neighbors. Before he could realize that such an order would give him the rather fortunate opportunity to be placed away from the front lines before the pit, Creich was upon him and taking hold of his spear and shield. To no one’s surprise, he gave no resistance at offering them up.
Quick as a rabbit, the father of Rhíad, now bearing shield and spear, turned and faced the gaping black maw. With a deep breath, he took three steps to the edge, and dropped himself down into the dirty shadows.
All at once, the men at the front lines to witness the act started in surprise. Cries of resistance sounded out like a hundred claps of nearby thunder suddenly appearing, and the three captains who stood nearby darted towards the place from where he had jumped. In a single motion, Nían dropped his patterned sword upon the dead grass and slid barehanded into the pit before the chieftain. The other captains did the same.
Those soldiers in the lines closest to the pit stepped forward for the first time to see the scene underground, half-enshrouded in the shadows of cool earth. As they approached, the many shouts of Chief Creich broke out from above, but the sound was thin and distant, and unlike the rich echoes that resounded throughout the trees of the forest, the sounds that came up from the pit did not echo even once before suddenly ending in a quick silence.
“Unhand me!” the chieftain cried angrily, and as the first of the soldiers came to see the struggle below, they found that the three captains now held Creich firmly, and they all stood between him and the shadows of the tunnel that led onward and deeper to whatever horrors lurked within.
“Rhíad!” he called out, “Rhíad, we have come! Ghlaírí, reveal yourself to me, you coward!”
“Chief! Do not be so rash!” Nían grunted as he gripped Creich’s right arm in both of his thicker arms. “You’d only fall into its trap.”
“Let it lay all the traps it wants,” Creich growled in return as he flinched back and forth in the grips of the three captains, “I will cut my way through each one it has in store for me.”
It was some while before the three, along with the aid of some soldiers from above, could bring Chief Creich to reason, and not without just as many threats against them as much as the Ghlaírí. At last, he gave a sigh of defeat and consented to being hoisted out of the pit.
“A well-laid trap, to be sure,” he muttered as he stared down into the depths while the last of the captains was likewise pulled up to the surface. He looked to the western sky, though little of it could be clearly seen from behind the thick treetops, and furrowed his brow. The sun still had some ways to go until it would disappear beneath those treetops, but each moment counted. He knew that his men might hold resolutely now, but at the coming of night, dread would creep through them like rain upon a rotten rooftop. Blankets and food for a night had been brought on order of the captains, but he doubted either would be of much use when a man, some as young and green as the skirmishers, would be forced to spend a night less than a stone’s throw away from the lair of the Ghlaírí. For the moment, he figured, anything would be better than idling and peering over the gaping maw.
“Brocc,” he said, looking to the captain of the third squad, “Have some of your novices get a fire going, but tell them to have a care not to burn this place down with all of these carrion leaves.”
The third captain nodded and began to turn, but quickly looked back when Creich spoke again.
“Just get pots of tea going and a bit of food warmed. We won’t sup yet, but I don’t want the hearts and strength of my men faltering soon. After that,” he paused to take one more look at the western sky, “You might as well have them lay out the bedrolls.”
Brocc looked at him with wide eyes. “You think we will need the whole night?”
“I don’t know,” Creich said.