Chapter 13: The Tall Ones

The boy was beside himself as he struggled to pull the large man back into the fog towards the village. Marcus gripped his shoulders and turned him back to face him.

“Tell me what happened, quickly now!” he ordered, stopping any further protests from the stricken young man.

The boy stammered and shook his head violently. “I’m not sure,” he wailed, “it was so dark and quiet.” He paused and gulped as he took a deep shuddering breath. “We heard the signal arrow and the warriors raced over to the river. I heard shouts and fighting and then they came for us. They had fire. It was so fast!” he paused again to steady his breathing, “Teeka sent me for you and was sending everyone into the woods as we had planned,” tears sprang to his eyes and he began sobbing, “They killed Lakota!”

Suddenly he grabbed Marcus’ arm and renewed his efforts to pull him back towards the village. “Come!” he cried, “we have to hurry!”

“Nay lad,” he growled softly, pulling the young man back, “you continue to the cabin. Go there and protect the women.”

To his credit, Ferret quickly nodded as he wiped his eyes and nose. Hati indulged him with a soft lick across his cheek before melting into the murky forest.

Marcus raced ahead, led by his three companions. In the distance, he faintly heard a shriek. He cursed under his breath and ran even harder down the path. He guessed he was over halfway to the village when he suddenly came up behind Pepper, Hati, and Skoll who were spread before him peering into the dense fog ahead, their keen ears hearing what he could not. Seconds later he caught the sounds of several hurried feet approaching. He made to step off the path but the wolf’s posture held him back.

It was a small group of villagers who suddenly appeared before him. They were led by one of the girls he knew as Tara. She burst from the fog and nearly barreled into him before she recognized the wolves and gasped in relief. She sobbed and flew into his arms.

“Cariba!” she cried, “they are right behind us!” He noted several other young women and children approach and pause as they gasped for breath. Two of the girls were helping a much older woman who favored her right foot. The terror was stark on all their features as they looked fearfully behind them.

He squeezed Tara’s shoulders and then gently pushed her behind him, gesturing for the others to follow. “Keep going,” he growled softly, “they will pursue you no further.” He made a gesture and the three wolves blended into the forest to either side as the small group of villagers raced on. He positioned himself in the middle of the trail and drew his broad sword, swinging it about to loosen his muscles. When he heard the heavy steps of several pursuers, he assumed a defensive stance with his blade ready.

Two larger figures burst from the mist before him and cursed in an unfamiliar tongue as they staggered to a halt in surprise. He heard a third bringing up the rear. They were taller than the villagers and bore heavier frames. He noticed the primitive armor they wore about their chests and waists. They were armed with spears and crude but evil-looking clubs that featured hooked shapes with large, ugly heads fashioned from stone.

The first warrior to recover raised his club and charged straight at Marcus with a raucous battle cry. He never completed his attack as the Northman stepped forward swinging his sword in a devastating arch that caught his opponent across his midsection, nearly cleaving him in two. Anticipating the second attacker, he ducked low and spun to his right in a complete circle before lunging forward and thrusting his blade completely through the second enemy’s torso. The raider’s eyes widened with shock and his voice gurgled as he stared back at his slayer.

A scream of terror and pain sounded just beyond him as he kicked the Tall One backward, freeing his blade. He darted forward and found the third raider on the ground flailing desperately as Hati and Skoll savaged him. Pepper was nowhere to be seen. He stepped forward, pausing briefly to dispatch the torn and bloody man with a quick thrust of his sword, before rushing forward once more into the dense foggy night. There was acrid smoke in the air and his anger raged in anticipation of what he would find.

The path split just before entering the clearing that contained the village and it was there that he charged directly into the path of three more raiders. They had just caught up with another small group of hysterical villagers, fleeing for the safety of the forest. In his frenzied state, he crashed into the enemy with savage fury. His deep bellowing war cry stunned everyone and he cut into them, knocking them back and disemboweling his first target before crashing into the second, sending them both sprawling. The villagers cried out and gaped in shock as he tore into their attackers.

The third raider was quick to recover and swung his evil club at the fallen Northman, striking him in the left shoulder with a glancing blow. It was his only chance to attack before he was swept from his feet by Pepper as she tore at his throat. Hati was immediately after her while Skoll positioned himself between the frightened villagers and the melee, his hackles standing and fangs bared.

The blow to his shoulder caused Marcus to roar in pain as he tumbled over his opponent and rolled away. Cursing that he had dropped his sword, he turned back to find that his enemy had quickly regained his footing and was preparing to raise his club for a killing blow. Pulling a pistol from his harness, he drew back the hammer as he aimed and fired it directly into the face of his attacker. The split-second timing of the combustion of the powder and subsequent explosion seemed an eternity to him. Then the flintlock belched flame with a concussive blast sending forth the lead bullet in a deadly trajectory that blew the Tall One’s head apart and sent his body tumbling backwards. The cloud of white smoke quickly merged with the fog and dissipated.

It was over in seconds and he stood swaying as pain lanced through his arm causing him to groan. The villagers were initially too shocked to do more than gape. Then as one, they rushed to him and spoke over each other as they attempted to praise and beseech him at the same time. He raised a hand to quell them and spoke directly to the eldest, an elder man named Oscat. “Tell me what you know,” he said softly, “how many of you got away?”

The elder shrugged his shoulders and replied with a pained expression. “I know not Cariba,” he swept an arm back towards the clearing where the fog was lit up by orange flames, “the Tall Ones were upon us almost as soon as the signal sounded. They are in a killing frenzy.” The anguish in his voice set several of the others sobbing.

Marcus growled before turning to study the small group. He recognized one of the Pack and called him forth, “Sparrow, continue with this group to the caves and search for others there. Then go on to the cabin and await my return.”

The boy nodded his understanding and grabbed the elder’s hand to guide him along.

“Take Pepper with you,” he added, “she will warn you of danger.”

“Come Lootah,” the boy called and the large red wolf glided up to him after pausing only briefly to rub against Marcus as she passed.

Turning back towards the clearing he glanced about the carnage until he spotted his sword. Retrieving it he ran towards the flames and sounds of fighting. The entire clearing was lit up by the orange glow of burning huts, backlighting the wavering mists that drifted about like a macabre dance of shadows and dark smoke. The acrid air stung his eyes and he strode into the center, looking about in horror at the death surrounding him. Dead villagers lay everywhere, most in puddles of blood and gore. He felt sickened to see small children brutally cut down beside the elderly. Outside the smoldering remains of the Chieftain’s hogan, he found Lakota face down and dismembered. Within the ruins, he could see another badly burnt body that he assumed to be his wife. A sob escaped him and he moaned miserably at the destruction around him.

Turning, he choked back a scream of anguish as he spotted the familiar figure of Polani draped across the gathering table, her garments shredded and cast about. Her delicate body was splayed lewdly suggesting the terrible things she suffered before her untimely death. Two of the warriors he trained and worked with lay nearby, their heads smashed beyond recognition.

It wasn’t just villagers he found. Tall Ones were lying about as well, many pierced by bolts from his arbalests. As he approached the river, he found another raider who fell victim to one of the hidden hedgehog traps. All of the village canoes lay upon the bank destroyed. He also spotted two of the larger raider craft pulled up on the bank, waiting for their crews to return. Several torches illuminated the river further upstream and he could see several of the larger vessels moving against the current and disappearing into the fog. He raged that he had left his long bow back at the cabin. Skoll and Hati joined him and growled into the dark.

Suddenly overcome by the tragedy of loss, Marcus collapsed to his knees and lifted his swollen eyes to the night sky. Drawing a massive breath, he released all of his rage, sorrow, and hate in one deafening bellow that rang out into the foggy darkness, shattering the stillness. As his voice echoed into the night it was countered by several distant voices that called back to him tauntingly. The two wolves added their loud howls cutting off the voices abruptly. Then with barks, they bolted into the darkness along the river’s edge, racing after the retreating enemy. Their cries and howls marked their swift pursuit.