Thunderous pounding of the earth boomed across the plains towards the tree-lined vista. Horses of mountainous size carried humanoid forms up and over hill crest and valley floor. The pulse of their hooves was felt for miles.
The Trailing Trio
The supplies of the three muscular, reptilian figures coated in dried blood cried metallic chirps as their weapons and provisions jostled against one another. They heaved up and down in their saddles as their mighty steeds tracked them across the terrain. The figures made no effort to stay in shadow or hide themselves from the local ecology or civilised watchers. Their gleaming, armoured steeds captured the natural light and reflected it in all directions while the light played off the riders’ jagged scales that lined the surface of their skin.
“How could that man-ogre have travelled this far?” The rider atop a chestnut great horse boomed over the sound of hooves. His nostrils flared as he spoke.
The lead rider, Caerabor slowed down, turned its own great horse and slowly trotted a circle around Yotur, hooves leaving deep impressions in the brown earth underfoot.
“Who knows? He may have been aided by local folk who saw a man in need. We have little knowledge of these parts and the creatures that live here. While we have slept well and have bellies full, we mustn’t take our positions for granted, nor allow that thief to escape us.” Caerabor's black tongue lashed and whipped gracefully as she spoke.
“His tracks continue towards the Grove up ahead”, added the third rider of the group. “He must have lost a lot of blood since he evaded us.” Odours that no human could ever perceive entered the nostrils of all three warriors and entertained their olfactory nerve endings like candyfloss to a child’s tongue.
“We must keep moving. We must recover all that was stolen and return it to its rightful place lest we all reap dark, troubled times ahead.” Caerabor’s great horse lifted it’s head uneasily and tossed it about as it’s deep maroon mane fluttered in the wind.
Upon reaction to the horse’s change in demeanour, the warriors exchanged looks and drew deep breaths of the dusk air.
“Despite our urgency”, the third rider, Arlik lowered his voice, “we should regain our bearings and survey possible dangers.”
“It appears Lianis knows something we do not.” Caerabor dismounted Lianis with a graceful lift and pivot, vaulting over her back, landing with a thud. She crouched over and picked up a handful of dirt and dead vegetation to closer inspect the area. As she breathed in, a foul molecule entered her nostrils. Without warning Caerabor expelled sparks and small flames from her nose, incinerating the offending smell.
“Otherlings are nearby. Be watchful, as we don’t know their origins or disposition. Keep your weapons nearby and your wits about you.”
All three of the warriors tied the horses up to a dead tree nearby. Rations of water laced with Erasimir’s elixir was supplied to the hefty beasts in carry-skins looped around their heads. Arlik kept close eye on the horses as they drank to see if they displayed any more uneasiness. Without warning nor fuss, a tanned, scantily dressed woman with sorrel hair emerged from a large overgrown tussock and sat down, still within the vegetation. Arlik slowly moved a hand backward, trying to calmly alert either Caerabor or Yotur. His waving hand felt nobody, as his eyes remained on the woman in the trees suspicious of her intentions. He glanced to catch sight of where the other two were and quickly returned to the woman. She had vanished.
Arlik stood up, armour still strapped on. He dusted off his scaly thighs and drew his weapons; two roughly serrated, four-pointed caltrops.
These devices were once used to hinder the advance of his white great horse, Sinder. Since he’d realised the versatility of these tools, he’d made modifications for hand-held use. He’d smoothed out and serrated the shafts to form four blades pointing in different directions. Arlik brandished both caltrops in clenched, hardened fists and strode towards the wood. He noticed squirrels and common wood fauna uncharacteristically abundant. Two grass deer lifted their heads, mouths chewing on vegetation. None of the animals seemed particularly interested in Arlik and returned to eating and chittering. Arlik’s clawed feet left impressions on the soft soil as he entered the trees. The light was broken up somewhat by criss-crossed branches and leaves, although it wasn’t a thick wood, just a tufted speck on the rolling landscape. This was what made Arlik curious. Fey-maidens were known to mingle within the woods, attempting to lure males into their domain. It seemed strange that this woman showed interest in a non-human male and especially bizarre that she inhabited such a small collection of trees. Unwilling to venture further, Arlik halted and backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on his surroundings. As his feet moved cautiously backward, he felt a hand tightly wrap around his ankle. Instinctively, Arlik brought down a caltrop in an attempt to extricate the hand from his leg. The blade facing the ground came down swiftly and punctured the pale, bone-grey hand. Immediately, a terrifying wail leapt from the creature’s mouth.
Arlik lifted his huge arm, still tightly clenching his caltrop to reveal a small, wiry creature with exaggerated arms and legs, a hooked nose and yellow eyes hanging in agony with the blade exiting through the palm of it’s hand. It’s body feverishly changed colours revealing speckled browns, shadow black, streaks of white and momentarily, a distinct shade of tan Arlik recalled seeing just moments earlier.
"You wretched shade-changer! What do you seek? Lust or gold?" Arlik reached over with his left hand and lifted the goblin-like creature from his caltrop. It screamed in pain again. In a rage, Arlik threw the shade-changer over to Caerabor, who was watching with a grin on her face. As her lip lifted, she revealed rows of sharp teeth lining her upper jaw. As the shade-changer was in no state to fight, she watched it writhe on the ground in front of her.
"You had ideas, didn't you?" Caerabor laughed as the creature thrashed about.
"Fool. The only ideas I had were to protect us all from the unknown forces this land is hiding."
“The forest itself would provide more pleasure than the bony imp, here.” Caerabor frisked the tiny body of the shade-changer.
“The bits and bags is mine, she-dragon.” The imp’s wailing had halted and it spat out its words with acrimony. It's hand no longer bleeding, it regained composure.
“The elixir skin by your feet, Caerabor!” Yotur had noticed the cap within the clutches of the shade-changer. The bag was empty of all but a trickle.
Immediately, the shade-changer dashed a few steps, jumped into the air and vanished in a magical haze of smoke.
“It drank the remainder of the elixir. It’s hand healed momentarily and we are without whatever that vile thing was carrying,” cursed Yotur.
“It was likely only carrying shiny pieces of glass or amber shards, Yotur. Those creatures may be mischievous thieves, but wouldn't know the value of a Polarian dagger if it were thrust into its eye,” retorted Caerabor.
“We’ll never know now and we better not encounter anything too dangerous lest we desperately need more of Erasimir’s elixir. Who knows what other effects the elixir had on that repulsive creature. That was enough to sustain the stamina and heal the ails of travel for all of us for days - including the horses.” Yotur's stance became aggressive as the spines on his head became erect and turned a deep red.
"You're overreacting. Calm down. We have bigger problems to face, including the pursuit of the man-ogre. He won't be far and our composure will ensure success in our pursuit." Caerabor's ability to return the group back to task proved invaluable many times before. He experience in this arena was unparalleled.
Few clouds remained above in the sky. The light breeze had smeared the remaining clouds into a canvas on which the burnt sunset cast it's colours. The group became aware of a blackness wafting across from the East. Screams of panic and desperation punctured their ear holes. Each warrior's honour and duty compelled them into action. Supplies were regathered hastily and before long, the trio deferred temporarily from their path without delay toward the cries of need.
Nick
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