3 – Ambush
The enchanted knife whipped through the air and took the second trog right in the eye. It didn’t even yelp as it fell to the ground, sliding down the slope for several feet in the loose rocks and dirt. The first trog reacted violently to the death of his comrade. He—for Ward had been granted an unpleasant glimpse of his anatomy beneath his ill-fitting hide smock—began to hoot and howl cacophonously, his voice echoing off the hillsides as he went wild. He leaped down the slope toward Ward, flailing his sharpened stick madly.
Ward danced to his left, Nevkin’s knife now in his hand, crouching low, trying to keep his footing on the slope. The trog was fast approaching, and Ward thought about throwing the knife, considering it was also enchanted. He could see Haley creeping up behind the enraged trog, though, her father’s sword in a two-handed grip high over her head. Ward stooped, grabbed an apple-sized rock, and chucked it with his left hand, underhanded, toward the creature’s face. It roared and swiped at the missile, and then Haley’s sword cleaved the crown of his skull, and the trog fell at her feet, dragging her off balance as she tried to work her father’s sword free.
Haley slid onto her butt, grunting as she kicked at the trog’s shoulder and yanked on the sword. Ward was about to go to her aid when he saw movement up at the cave mouth. “More coming, I think!” he shouted. He scrabbled up the slope to the dead trog’s fallen spear, picking it up with his left hand as he fumbled with Nevkin’s curved knife, trying to slide it under his belt. By the time he’d gotten a sure grip on the primitive spear and looked up the hillside again, two more trogs had emerged and were working their way down the slope, still some thirty or forty yards distant.
“What’s the plan, old man?” Grace sounded worried.
Ward ignored her and held the spear in front of his face, “Ghruvon, Truvik, Prakhun!” The words rolled off his new tongue like a delicate prayer, but they began to echo sharply as soon as they entered the world. He heard Haley’s intake of breath, saw the trogs clap their hands to their ears, and then the spell slammed into the spear, carving glowing runes into the wood that blazed for a moment and then faded. Ward didn’t wait for an invitation; he pulled the spear back over his shoulder and hauled it forward in a vicious javelin throw.
The imperfect shaft wobbled in the air as the magic forced it to fly true, ripping through the air so fast that it whistled before slamming into the left-hand trog’s chest. It coughed out a rough, pained cry and flopped back. As its legs kicked and its clawed hands scrabbled in the scree, the other trog roared, lifted what looked like a stone hatchet, and renewed its downward scramble.
“Ward!” Haley called, and he turned to see her holding a massive trog at bay—it had to be the alpha. The monstrous humanoid looked like it weighed three or four hundred pounds, and its roars and grunts were visceral things—deep hollow noises that Ward could feel in his chest like a bass subwoofer. If Haley weren’t so nimble, with her blue cloak flowing behind her as she leaped out of the way of the creature’s enormous sapling-sized club, she would have been utterly shattered by the blow. When the weapon impacted the hillside, Ward felt it in the soles of his boots.
“Run!” he yelled. Then, without thinking, he yanked Nevkin’s knife out of his belt and threw it at the hulking, gray-furred trog. The alpha was wearing several layers of hide, but Ward had thrown the blade well, aiming toward the back of his head, and the enchantment had the desired effect—the tip caught in the monster’s thick rolls of fleshy fat at the base of his skull and the weapon might have driven deep enough to bring the beastly creature down, but the curve ruined things; it ended up slicing up and out, leaving a deep, ugly gash, but not killing the brute. It was enough to distract and further enrage the trog, however.
“You’ve done it now!” Grace cried. “Look out for the other one!”
Ward turned just in time to see the other trog closing the last few yards between them, its stone-bladed hatchet held high, its face twisted in a rictus, snaggle-toothed snarl. Ward, empty-handed, turned to his left and charged toward a thick snarl of thorny shrubs. He held his armored sleeves before his face as he crashed into the stiff branches, and the hauberk earned its price, sparing him from many cuts and bruises as he bullied his way through.
He’d just won clear and was scanning the ground for something he could use as a weapon when something smashed into his shoulder, sending him stumbling forward. Ward grunted in pain, but his armor had held; he’d have a bruise but nothing much more. As he stumbled, he scooped up a grapefruit-sized rock and continued, keeping his forward momentum going as he scrambled up the hillside. He could hear the smaller trog behind him, grunting and growling as it kept pace, but Ward had other things to focus on. He looked at the big rock in his hand, and, still driving with his thighs, climbing the slope, he said, “Ghruvon, Truvik, Prakhun!”
As the words rolled out and echoed around him, he grinned and laughed. He took two more wide, muscle-burning steps up the hillside, then turned, holding the rock high. The trog had paused, shaking its head as though to clear the echoing words of power from his mind, and Ward capitalized, hurling the ten-pound rock with all his might. The “strike true” spell proved itself yet again, or, Ward supposed, he just scored a perfect throw. Whatever the case, the rock caught the brute in the forehead and cracked its thick skull like a cantaloupe.
Ward could hear the alpha smashing through the brush, could see his enormous head and shoulders surging overtop the thorny bushes, and he dove for his latest victim’s stone-bladed hatchet. “Can you cast it again?” Grace asked, her voice rising hysterically.
“I think so. I did before.” It was true; even before he had the tongue, he’d cast “strike true” three times before he couldn’t remember the words. The hatchet had a rough, root-like handle that fit his hand well enough but seemed too heavy and unbalanced. Was it petrified wood? He didn’t know, but he was glad it was heavy, and the blade seemed sharp enough. He could see it was fastened to the handle with dried sinew and had time to wonder just how intelligent the primitive creatures might be before he snapped out of his contemplation and said, “Ghruvon, Truvik, Prakhun!”
For the third time, the spell echoed around the gully, and Ward saw the enraged trog alpha flinch at their sound. The creature’s eyes were red and wild with madness. It roared, baring a mouthful of fangs, and ripped its way out of the patch of thorny brush. Its hairy arms were torn and bleeding; its mouth drooled as it gnashed its teeth and growled. Somewhere along the way, it had dropped its enormous club, but Ward wasn’t heartened; the thing had claws like knives, and with its hands empty, it was scrabbling on all fours up the hillside, rapidly closing the distance.
Ward lifted the now-enchanted stone-bladed axe, eyeing his surroundings for a plan of action. He didn’t think he could take the brute in a head-to-head confrontation. “This way!” Grace said, indicating a relatively flat area to Ward’s right. He nodded but held his ground, trying to time things right. The trog cleared the distance and reared up, lifting its arms high as though it intended to rake all six of its claws down on Ward, ripping him to ribbons.
Before it could bring its claws down, though, Ward darted forward, hacked the heavy axe at the monster’s muscle-bound knee, and before he even felt the impact, dove toward Grace, aiming to roll over his shoulder. The axe, enchanted to do great damage, cleaved through flesh, sinew, and bone, nearly removing the monster’s entire lower leg. It screamed, Ward dove, and, as the trog fell, it reached out and hooked three of its long, deadly-sharp claws into Ward’s calf, stopping him short.
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Ward cried out; the pain as the claws tore his flesh, halting his entire body weight mid-air, was nearly blackout-inducing. The creature didn’t stop there, either. It tightened those claws in a fist, securing its grip on his lower leg as it pulled itself forward with its other long, muscular arm. Ward growled, more angry than scared now. He still held the axe in his hand, and he contracted his core, pulling himself into a sit-up as he swung it back and down, chopping it halfway through the alpha trog’s wrist. Again, it screamed and reflexively slapped at the axe with its other arm, knocking it out of Ward’s hand.
The beast’s grip had loosened when Ward cleaved its wrist, and he pulled away, scrabbling backward through the dirt and loose rocks, panting in pain with each kick of his wounded leg. The alpha was still enraged, still trying to give chase, but two of its limbs weren’t working right, and its maddened mind was struggling to realize why. Ward scanned his surroundings, looking for something he could use as a weapon—a branch, a rock, anything.
He’d settled on a fist-sized rock and reached toward it when Haley appeared over the trog’s shoulder and drove her sword into the center of its back. It screamed and thrashed, but Haley pulled the blade free and drove it in again. This time, the monstrous creature retched a torrent of blood and fell, quivering, onto its chest. Haley stabbed it two more times before it finally fell still.
“Jesus! Where can I get a tetanus shot?” Ward groaned as he pulled his knee to his chest, turning it to see his mangled calf.
Grace leaned close. “You need a few stitches, but you’ll survive.”
“A few? That bastard had ahold of my bone!” As he pressed his palm against the oozing gashes, he looked at Haley and saw she was standing atop a nearby boulder, slowly turning in a circle and scanning the area. “Anything?”
“Nothing moving.” She looked down at him, her eyes glinting from the depths of her deep hood. “Do you have some salve in your pack?”
“Yeah,” Ward grunted, his breathing shallow from the throbbing pain in his leg. “I think so.” He gingerly lowered his leg and worked to get his pack off, wincing as his bruised shoulder protested. Before he even had one arm out, though, Haley was there.
“What pouch?”
“On the side. My, uh, left side.” Haley was quick to dig the jar of salve out. It was one she’d brought from Tarnish. She unscrewed the cap and squatted by his leg.
“Can you pull the pant leg up?”
“Yeah.” Ward did so, hissing through his teeth as the fabric brushed his cuts.
Haley liberally scooped the cream out of the jar, rubbing it into his deep puncture wounds. “Keep an ear open for more trogs.”
“Oh, God. That feels better.” The throbbing had almost immediately ceased as the cool cream went to work.
“Let me bandage this, then you’ll be okay to limp around for a bit. When we get to an inn, I’ll stitch you up.” Haley screwed the cap on and returned it to his pack, rummaging in the same pouch until she pulled out a length of off-white linen—another of her purchases. Ward held still as she wound the bandage around his calf. Then, with a surprisingly strong hoist from Haley, he was back on his feet.
“Let’s get up to that cave.” Ward stepped up onto a clump of brush grass, but then Grace cleared her throat.
“Ahem! You might want this.”
Ward turned to look and saw she was standing over his hat. “Oof.” Ward wiped a hand over his sweaty brow, then nodded. He limped over and retrieved the wide-brimmed hat, happy to have the bright glare of the sun out of his eyes. “Didn’t notice it coming off in all the scuffle.”
“I’m surprised it got this far! The way you charged through those thorn bushes…” Haley sighed, shaking her head. “I was afraid I’d catch up too late.” She walked back over to the alpha’s corpse and grunted as she yanked his knife out of the thing’s neck. Ward watched as she wiped it on the creature’s fur, then walked over and handed it to him.
“Thanks, Haley.” He clutched the weapon in a blood-stained hand, feeling comforted by the leather-wrapped grip.
She gave Ward an appraising glance, then nodded. “I’ll go scout the cave opening. Take your time and choose your steps carefully.”
“Hey…” Ward was about to tell her to be careful, but a glare from Grace stilled his tongue. “I’ll be right behind.”
Haley nodded, and then she turned and lithely scampered up the hill. “She makes you look like a garbage truck. You know, those big, automated ones that take up the whole road and hold up traffic when people need to get—”
“All right, all right,” Ward groaned. “Give it a rest, would ya?” Grace smirked but relented, and Ward began laboriously clambering up the hill. Nearly ten minutes later, sweating from the effort and the renewed pain in his leg, he ducked into the dark, crescent-shaped opening, his knife held ready, only to find Haley grunting, leaning over, backing toward him. It took him a confused moment to realize she was dragging someone.
“You found her!”
Haley turned, and her eyes shone like a cat’s as she looked toward the light. “She was just up ahead past those piled boulders. They’d thrown her there, I think, along with two dead goats. She’s got a huge lump on her head, but she’s still breathing.”
Ward started struggling out of his pack. “Let’s put some salve on the bump. It probably won’t help if she’s got a brain bleed, but…” He shrugged, trailing off. It went without saying that it was all they could do for her at the moment. As he fished out the jar of salve, Haley pulled the girl closer to the opening, and Ward saw for himself that she had a massive, purple contusion on the side of her head, just past her temple. “They probably knock their prey out if they can. Keeps the meat from spoiling.”
“Yeah. The goats were already partially butchered. Well, eaten—I don’t think they exactly have a kitchen.”
“No, uh, sign of any others back there?”
“Nope. I think we killed the whole pack.” Haley took the salve and gently smeared it onto the lump on the girl’s head. She had to smooth her hair back, and Ward watched as she dug a tiny copper hairpin out of a pocket somewhere, gently putting it into the girl’s blonde hair, pinning it back behind her ear.
“You’re going to be all right, Haley,” he said, leaning against the stone cave opening.
She looked back at him, and for the first time since Nevkin, her lips moved into a genuine smile. “Thank you, Ward.”
He looked into her eyes and gave her a quick nod, then turned to look down the slope. From that vantage, he could see a much more accessible, smoother trail leading down off to the left, behind a copse of short, thorny trees. Further down, near the base of the hill, he saw Nutmeg and Wind Queen, and beyond them, the valley opened up, green and lush, all the way to the distant blue line of the sea. “There’s an easier path down, but I don’t think we’ll make it to the city before dark.”
“I’m not scared of the dark,” Haley said, grinning. Her words made Ward chuckle, but the clever comment also made him wonder where Grace was. He turned to peer into the cave but didn’t see any sign of her.
His voice was almost tentative when he softly called out, “Grace?”
“Did you miss me?” Her voice came from right behind him, and Ward flinched, eliciting a chuckle from Haley.
“Dammit,” he growled. “You’re lucky you made Haley laugh ‘cause otherwise, you’d be back on my shitlist.”
Grace beamed, moving around Ward to look at the girl, watching Haley’s ministrations. “I was here—just relaxing inside your head. You should carry the girl, Ward. Keep her head up so blood doesn’t rush to her head. She might have a bad concussion.”
Haley shook her head. “No, I can carry her. I’m strong enough, and I’m not injured.” She bent, swinging the girl’s arm over her neck, then, cradling her back and knees, Haley smoothly stood. She smiled at Ward. “See?”
“Damn! After you.” When Haley started down the hill, Ward followed, and Grace skipped along beside him.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Ward raised an eyebrow, pausing to slide the curved knife under his belt. “Oh?”
“Wow! No jokes? Anyway, I think it might be interesting to see what the hemograph says about Haley.”
Ward opened his mouth, then closed it again with an audible click. He frowned, scratched his head, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before now.”
“Well, to be honest, I did.” Grace shrugged, then in a much quieter voice, she whispered, “I was afraid it might say something…disturbing.”
“But now?”
“Now, I have more hope. She really does seem better.”
Ward nodded, watching Haley march down the hill, cradling the teenager in her arms; he figured the girl had to weigh at least a hundred pounds—not an incredible feat of strength, but definitely not easy. Haley wasn’t exactly large. “Yeah. We’ll ask her what she thinks tonight. Right now, I want to drop this girl off and get my ass to town.”
“You did good, Ward. Lots of thinking on your feet in that fight. I liked how you enchanted a rock in the middle of a battle.” Grace giggled as Ward snorted, but he didn’t have a clever response, so he just shrugged. Despite his sore leg, he felt good. It was nice to help people, and it really seemed like this world had plenty of folks in need. With that warm, fuzzy thought keeping a grin on his face, he tried to pick up the pace; Haley was leaving him behind.