Chapter 2: Bartan, Hired Sword

Darrick was still sick, and he couldn't trust Elm to stay awake. That left four sentry-watches to be split three ways. He'd assigned Gwinny the first watch, taken the second himself, and given Tarr the third.

She woke him for the final watch of the night. The coals of their fire had died long ago, but some time after midnight the clouds had parted. The gaps between them were lavishly strewn with stars, and soon the moons would rise.

Hunter and Hound; he'd watched them race across the heavens on many a lonely night watch. Hunter, large and red, moved slowly and majestically among the stars. Hound, smaller and spotted with yellow, circled the larger moon several times each night. They would appear soon, the sun close behind. Even now, the clouds were lighter to the east.

Hunter rose, a nail-paring tinged with crimson, but he searched in vain for Hound. Before he could be sure, the entire eastern sky flamed pink and gold and a new day was upon them.

That wasn't all the morning brought. He woke the others as a faint yelping echoed down the wind.

"Get up! On your feet!" He shook Elm roughly. "Wild dogs!"

The pack was a large one, more than a dozen. Larger than wolves, but leaner. They were mangy looking where tufts of winter wool had fallen out. By his side, Tarr chanted the words of a spell. Nothing happened. She shook her head angrily, and tried another.

"Hah! That worked!" She exulted as a handful of dogs sprawled limply. Bartan readied his crossbow.

By his side Gwinny did the same, and the whistle of slings rose as Elm and Darrick swung them. They all loosed their missiles at once. Then it was cock and load, fire and fire again until the dogs were too close. Several more were down, and it was time for swords to drink blood!

The sun was rising, but it was still too dark at the bottom of the canyon. Darrick raised his hands, palms upward, chanting an invocation to his Deity. A pearly glow sprang up about them, shrouding them in light. The dogs snarled, falling back, then surged forward.

They had chosen their camp site well. Only a few dogs could come at them at a time between the boulders, and they were no match for swords and stout armor. His sword gleamed brightly blue as he chanted his battle cry, freezing the foam on his attackers' muzzles. By his side Gwinny wrought havoc, and to one side Elm and Darrick held the gap between another pair of boulders.

A snarling bitch slashed Gwinny's leg even as his sword sent it reeling. It staggered off and was lost in the shadows, and the fight was over.

"You all right?" He knelt to bandage Gwinny's wound, was relieved to find that it wasn't serious.

"Let me catch my breath." She sat down heavily, letting fall her sword and shield. He left her and joined Elm, who was dispatching wounded dogs and the ones knocked out by Tarr's spell. That task out of the way, he stood back and took a long look at the rest of the Company.

"Well?" Elm asked with a wry smile. "What do you think?"

"It's a long way back from here, even just to Shurrud. The way this country's been stirred up, there's no telling what we'll run into. Oh sure, we've got a lot better armor and weapons than we started out with. Still, five of us. That's too small a party for this kind of country."

"So what'll we do? Looks like you're in charge until Darrick gets to feeling better."

"Oh, no!" Bartan protested, but secretly he was pleased. "I'm not the leader type. I'm just a common soldier, never have been an officer. You don't want me in charge!"

"Just until Darrick's better," Elm persisted. "You know what needs done to keep us alive. Gwinny's no leader. Neither am I, for that matter."

"And I'm no soldier," Tarr added, moving to stand at Elm's side. "You're the only one who can do it. Not for long. Darrick should be all right in a day or two. Then he'll take charge again."

Her soft voice seemed to weave a spell of its own. Bartan broke its hold with a shrug and a crooked smile.

"All right, but only for a day or two." He flexed his shoulder muscles, settling his armor into a more comfortable position and reached down to pick up his pack. "It's light enough to travel and the trail is clear, so let's be on our way. Gwinny and 1"11 go first. Tarr, you stay by Darrick while Elm brings up the rear."

This was work he was used to, leading a patrol through hostile country. Elm had spoken truth, he was the right man for this job. Now all he had to do was figure out what Darrick's orders would have been, then follow them. Right now it was 'Forward, march! ", and only the one path to follow.

Heavy clouds gathered again as they marched, and more than once he raised his shield to ward off showers. They'd filled their flasks at a spring, and water was no trouble with runnels all around. Lunch was only a pause at a wide spot in the trail, a few hasty mouthfuls of cold venison.

"Still worried about giving orders?" Tarr asked as they made ready to push on. "Not that." He shook his head. "Something else. One of your spells failed you, fighting off that pack of wild dogs. Was it just because you were still shaken up by the Gem?"

"It shouldn't have failed," she admitted. "It wasn't one that depended solely on my own strength. I don't know why it didn't work. Things seem out of kilter, somehow. As though the stars in their courses are disturbed."

"This morning. Before the dogs attacked." He hesitated, unsure of how to say it. "The moons should have been up, Hunter and Hound. I only saw Hunter..."

"The ebon sphere!" She was shaken by the thought. "It was still growing. If it swallowed Hound... I must think on this. I am no scholar, no master of Arcane lore. Just a simple Spell-caster with a scant handful of Magics at my command."

They made a cold camp that night. There was no wood nearby for a fire, and showers came heavy and often. They had crossed several ridges and were near the crest of another when the sun went down, and the trail was barely wide enough to keep them safe while they slept.

"Can you stand a watch?"

"I'll stay awake," Elm answered resolutely.

"Take the first watch, then. I'll take the second, and Gwinny the third. Tarr can have the dawn watch."

Elm was true to his word, waking him at the appointed time. The Halfling seemed pretty well recovered from his knock on the skull, though a sizable lump still remained. Bartan woke Gwinny when the stars had turned halfway through their nightly trek, and gladly sought his cloak.

"Wake up!" Someone was tugging at his shoulder, and he fought to waken. "I hear wolves!"

That did it! He sprang to his feet, almost sending Tarr sprawling. The sky was gray, a solid mass of clouds that promised rain to come. The howling of wolves rose above the wind that blew among tumbled boulders. He joined Tarr in waking the others.

"This is no place to make a stand," he grumbled. "We'll push on, and hope to find a better place before they catch up with us."

They crossed the ridge. The howling drew ever closer, louder, echoing from barren hills until it seemed that they were surrounded. Then the wind would shift, and the sound of pursuit would almost die away.

"Not too fast," he warned. "We don't want to be worn out and helpless when they do catch up."

He set the pace, trotting when the trail sloped down, walking where it climbed. The cries of the wolves grew louder, like lost souls given a brief leave from their Hells.

"Up ahead!" he shouted. "Those rocks. Run for it!"

They strained to reach that dubious shelter. Bartan let the others lead, bringing up the rear and watching behind. The leaders of the pack came into view, pouring around a bend in the trail like a gray tide.

"Up, now! Up on that big flat-topped boulder!"

He boosted Darrick to the top and scrambled up behind him, fangs nipping at his heels. A sling bullet whistled past his ear, drawing a yelp of pain. He rested a moment, panting, as the wolves circled their refuge.

"Five of them? Is that all?" He laughed, still gasping for breath. "It sounded like a hundred. All right, use your slings. Gwinny, you be careful with that crossbow. You're almost out of quarrels for it, so pick your targets."

Darrick made the first hit, sending a wolf staggering. Another braved the hail of missiles, scrambling up the side of the boulder after them. It ducked back from Bartan's sword, yelping in pain as it fell. Another wolf was braver, or at least smarter. It managed to scale a smaller boulder, springing at them from there.

He yelled a warning, but it wasn't needed. Darrick's mace swung down, a short, chopping blow that caught the beast coming in. Brains splattered, and that foe was done.

Gwinny fumbled, trying to cock her crossbow for another shot. The string slipped out of her fingers and the weapon nearly slid over the side. Darrick, meanwhile, loaded another bullet in his sling and swung it in a circle.

"Watch it!"

Bartan ducked as the thong parted. Darrick's missile flew off at an angle. The Cleric looked down at his useless sling for a moment, then tossed it aside. Picking up a fragment of loose rock in both hands, he hurled it down at the circling wolves.

Maddened by hunger and the scent of blood, they renewed their attack. Bartan killed another as it reached the top of their boulder, and Elm's sling took out two more. The last wolf fell to Darrick, crushed by a falling rock even as it gathered itself to spring.

"Everyone all right?" He looked around at his companions. Darrick was busily knotting the broken thong of his sling, while Gwinny retrieved her dropped weapon. Elm waved reassurance as he climbed down to make sure all of the wolves were really dead, and Tarr followed him.

"Not a scratch!" Darrick finished his task and tucked the sling back in his belt.

"Then we'll be on our way. Elm, cut a couple of haunches off the fattest of those wolves. We ate the last of our venison last night."

They resumed their march as the rain began to fall. First a few heavy drops, then more, until it was coming down in a torrent. The wind had died, but the rain found its way under their cloaks, through every stitch and seam until they were as wet as though they'd been in swimming. They slogged miserably along, and Bartan clung to the thought that at least the trail was solid rock. They didn't have to squelch along through ankle-deep mud. Up one hill, down the other side. Up another hill, down into a canyon. Somewhere along the way, the rain slacked off to a fine mist, but they were already as wet as they could get.

"It nearly dark." Gwinny broke a long silence. "We camp soon?"

"Might as well. Elm, isn't this about where we camped this side of the tunnel?"

"Somewhere along here, I think. Maybe on ahead a little."

They trudged on. It wasn't far to where a fold in the face of the cliff offered some shelter. He called a halt.

"We almost to tunnel?" Gwinny's Goblin accent had lessened, the last few days. By the time they reached Shurrud village she should sound about like anyone else. He didn't want her suspected as an Orcish spy. "You not... you did not tell me about tunnel."

"We came through it, following this trail. It's partly a natural cave, partly a tunnel. We wiped out part of a tribe of Goblins, but there'll be more of them."

Nothing bothered them that night. He would have been surprised if anything had been moving in this cold and damp. This was just one more night spent sleeping in their armor. He just hoped that they would soon reach a spot where they could take it off and dry out their padding. The wolves they'd killed must have been crossing from one hunting ground to another. They hadn't gone far the next morning when the mouth of a cave loomed in the cliff face to their right. The trail led on past, but he knew from before that it soon pinched down to nothing.

"How many torches left?"

They checked their packs, and he was dismayed at how few were still unused.

"We'll light just one at a time," he decided. "That may get us through. Darrick, can you do that light trick again if we run into trouble?"

"What? Oh, yes. I think so. I'm almost sure I can. It won't last long, though."

Bartan hoped that the Half-Elf was almost back to his old self. It was about time. Tarr had recovered slowly, though and she was younger by far. Even Elm seemed to have thrown off the effects, and Gwinny had been little affected.