Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (19 page)

           
Gregor was torn by anger and pity as
the creatures came into the circle of light cast by his fire. The beasts barely
resembled the noble hunters they once were. The glowing orbs he had seen in the
trees dominated their faces. Unnatural power had swollen their bodies to
obscene proportions, tearing the hides where pulsing muscle was now exposed.
Deadly thick claws shredded the flesh of their paws and a bloody grimace
haunted their maws, forced into being by a protrusion of grotesque fangs. There
was the sound of tortured growls emerging from the space beyond the fire at
Gregor's back as well.

           
The knight tightened his grip on the
hilt of his sword, readying to spring at the priest even as he answered.
"I doubt these poor creatures would trouble me if I drove my blade into
your heart. One who would corrupt such noble animals deserves no more, and I
can find no reason to hold further counsel with you, demon servant."

           
The vile laugh that emerged from the
hood made Gregor cringe in disgust; it was so much like the cursed voice of the
priest’s Master. Only the flesh of a man on the hand that held the great staff made
Gregor certain it was not Tur'morival before him now. "You'll find there
is much you can learn for me, young one. You will serve the Father Tur'morival,
one way or another. Would it not be better to go to your Master freely? Your God
has forsaken you, giving you faults possessed by so many that have fallen
before you. The beasts in my service are but a taste of the power wielded by Father
Tur'morival, and the forces of good make no move that he has not foreseen. Do
not dismay, master Gregor. All those who serve our Master once labored in vain
against the darkness. There is only one end to that path. A meaningless death
that changes nothing."

           
Gregor stepped a pace closer to the
priest. He found his movement matched by the beasts near their dark creator as
the threat in the wolves' voices deepened. "You are bold and full of
deceit, priest, but do you really think these animals will save you? You speak
as though I am alone even as Divinity infuses my blade." The knight angled
the blade towards the priest's head to illustrate his point. "Do you think
the powers of the Abyss will prevent a stab deep into your heart? You should
welcome my strike. Perhaps the God of Light will take pity on your tainted soul
and guide you to the divine power you have forsaken. There is no salvation for
those who accept the Unnamed One, who holds sway over the souls in the Abyss,
in exchange for power in this world. Do not deceive yourself even as you weave
the web for me. Go back to the darkness and release these poor creatures. The
only hope for you is to relinquish the hold of your master and pray to the
divine power you have forsaken. I will take no pleasure in killing you if that
is what I must do, except that these poor beasts will be welcomed into the arms
of a loving Goddess."
           

           
There was no note of pleasure in the
priest’s words as he called for Gregor's doom. "You speak well for a blind
servant of a meaningless God. What can be expected but empty words from one who
struggles so hard against his true destiny? All mankind craves the power we
possess. The Order of the Crimson Night alone is blessed with the ability to
bend this world to our desires. Serving the powers of the Abyss with the
promise of immortality is more than a reasonable sacrifice to make. You will
know the true power that Father Tur'morival possesses soon enough. For now know
that my pets will tear the armor plates away that cover you one by one until I
grow weary of your pleas for death. The powers I have at my disposal will be
more than adequate to sustain you. Father Tur'morival has such plans for you,
such plans." The priest waved dismissively towards Gregor. "Take him
now."

           
The first strike came from the rear,
nearly knocking Gregor to his knees and causing him to stumble forward toward
the beasts in front of him. He felt some small relief when the four wolves to
the front of him did not immediately attack, choosing instead to gnash their
great jaws at him and growl deep in their chests. It took him a moment to
figure out what they were doing but it became apparent soon enough. He sidled
quickly away from the stalking wolves nearest the priest but found he had been
pushed away from the limited protection of the fire that had been at his back.
Two pairs of wolves came around the fire, positioning themselves so that the
animals were able to encircle him. They had shut down any means of escape with
the efficiency of the pack hunters they were, and would begin their attack in
earnest soon. For the moment, they seemed content measuring their victim and
looking for the best place to strike. Gregor felt certain if one of the
creatures struck him fully from the rear, he would be borne to the ground. He
had no desire to rely on the mercy of the wolves if they knocked him down.
Gregor turned with practiced skill, his eyes never coming to rest on any one
beast, as he waited for them to make the next move.

           
The wolves circled as Gregor turned
in the opposite direction, matching their pace. The knight was fairly certain
the animals would get the best of him if he were caught in a melee for too
long. He decided the best course was a direct approach in hopes of scattering
their number, even though that would mean exposing his flank. Gregor only hoped
the steel plates covering his back could resist the claws of the wolves that
would take advantage of the opening. The pack showed no sign of fear as he
turned, his blade waving around the circle. There had to be a weak link in
their formation, though all the predators seemed equal in size, and space
between them was almost nonexistent. While making a third turn, Gregor spotted
it. One of the wolves had only three full paws. It held as steady a pace as it
could, but would just slightly miss a beat as it went around with the others,
leaving just the room Gregor needed to break free of the trap. Gregor passed
his eyes over the creature once more and knew what he had to do.

           
As his target drew near where the
circle passed closest to the fire, Gregor dropped to his knee without warning.
His sword swept low, carving away the rear legs of the wolf positioned ahead of
the limping wolf and arcing up, as Gregor used the counterbalance of the swing
to roll him back to his feet outside the circle. The three-pawed wolf turned to
snap at him and was cut off by the fire itself, its body forming a block in
front of the wolves nearest it. The block being temporary, Gregor knew they
would leap over the fire soon, and there were still three others that had no
impediment. The wolves that had been moving behind Gregor when he struck were
already charging around their downed companion. Gregor saw his advantage
immediately and took it. He slipped fluidly around the wounded creature and
stabbed at the great maw of the wolf at the front of the group nearest him.
Even before the creature realized it was dead, its body ignited as the blade of
the sword brightened, emerging from the back of its splintered skull. Gregor
withdrew the bloody, shining sword and moved toward the next tainted wolf. Some
survival instinct still lived in the minds of the creatures, and the next beast
withdrew as Gregor brought the brightly lit sword to face it. Gregor was sick
with the thought of killing the creature, and he threw his heavily booted leg
out to make solid contact with its muzzle. The strike was answered with the
sound of splintering bone and tearing flesh. The animal was turned away by the
impact and stumbled out of Gregor's path. Only one more animal remained between
the priest and himself; the priest realized the danger of his position only
moments before was too late. Dark words began to flow from the priest's black
tongue even as Gregor raised his sword over his head. Ignoring the last animals
that were preparing to launch their grotesque forms at him, Gregor asked for
one bit of aid from the God of Light he served. "Let my blade strike true
and release these creatures from their binding." The sword leaped from
Gregor's hands, spinning through the air as it closed the distance between the
knight and the priest. As if in answer to Gregor's prayer, the blade's flight
straightened as it struck through the priest's robes. The summoner’s words were
silenced by the penetration of the blade, and blood ran over the hilt of the
weapon as the man fell to his knees. "Pray now, priest, and hope there is
time for a reply."

           
Even as the priest fell to the
ground, one of the demon wolves pounced. A glimmering white suffused its form,
as a much smaller creature than the one that had jumped at Gregor glanced
harmlessly against Gregor's chest plate. Upon finding themselves so near man
and a fire in their normal state, the other remaining creatures fled into the
woods. Only the body of the slain remained, or so Gregor thought at first. The
wolf that had suffered the abuse of his boot emerged from the trees where it
had retreated, its broken jaw dangling from its snout. A wave of pain swept
over Gregor at the sight of it, and he moved to kneel in front of the wolf,
laying his gauntlets to one side as the animal sniffed tentatively at Gregor's
now bare hands. There was no threat in the wounded beast, and the knight spoke
gently to him as he moved one hand to cradle the broken jaw. "Goddess save
me. Tana would have my head if she could see such suffering. We will put you
right." The wolf’s eyes stared into his own as Gregor drew energy into his
hands, knitting the bone and restoring the flesh. The wolf barked loudly to
show that its muzzle was quite functional, and ran off into the trees to join
his remaining companions.

           
A wet nose nuzzled the still
kneeling knight’s back as Gregor watched the wolf go. It appeared he was not
alone. The warrior turned slowly, not wanting to alarm his remaining companion,
and once more extended his hands. Three-Paw, who it seemed had been watching
over the healing of his pack mate, sniffed at the offered hand and sat on his
haunches in front of the knight as if waiting for something. "My powers
are not so great that I can restore your lost paw, my friend. Old wounds are
beyond me. Still I owe you my life, I think, and though it is a poor payment
for such a deed, let me see what I might have." Three-Paw cocked his head
at Gregor and limped to the smoldering remains of the dead wolf, prodding it
gently with his muzzle before sitting on his haunches again and turning his head
to stare at the knight. "Ah, I think I understand now." Gregor rose
and stood next to Three-Paw, offering a small prayer over the fallen wolf
before carrying its body to the fire. This seemed to satisfy Three-Paw, and he
took up a position near Gregor, lying down and watching the flames as the fire
consumed his dead friend.

***

           
The mood was light in the Grove
after long days spent hunting. The rangers from various lands had blended well
and no one could doubt their effectiveness. Tana's group included one of the
mountain guardians as well as an Ardataure that was a very capable scout. The
slight female remained high in the trees every night, keeping a constant vigil
as the others slept. Sephia rarely spoke to the rest of the group and preferred
to use simple hand signals that were readily understood by all. The scout's
falcon companion had also proven invaluable.

Dramor, the mountain warrior her
group had drawn, had proven very aggressive in the pursuit of his duties. He
definitely seemed to enjoy running headlong into every group of orcs they
encountered. Tana had somehow fallen into the role of leader, and she felt this
was in no small part due to her ability to explain tactics to the stout,
broad-shouldered mountain man. "If I be in the middle of the
bast
... orcs,
beggin
' your pardon
miss... Why can I not
jus
' tear
em
all new ones?" The puzzled look on his rough features made Tana smile, in
spite of her mood.

           
"If they have one of the demon
bloods with them, Dramor, you would be killed. There is no reason to think they
wouldn't have a leader with them, and you have not seen what those creatures
can do." Tana kept her face deadly serious while Dramor turned her words
over in his head.

           
"
Ya
got me there, I must admit it. I hadn't laid me eyes to '
em
biggun
orcs and jus' got to trust those that
had." He thought a bit longer, then his heavy, dark eyebrows shot up.
"I
gots
an answer to the troubles I be
thinkin
'. I can make like
runnin
'
to
em
and the rest all hold there in the trees.
If’n
I see a
biggun
in the
bast
... orcs, I mean... then I can drag ‘
em
chasin
’ me up to
ya
here. Yup,
that’ud
work!"

           
Tana had been unable to argue with
him once his mind had been set. She cringed every time he shot out of the
trees, bellowing like a grizzly bear, but she could not deny his effectiveness.
For a person whose legs were so short, he was fast and no one in the group
could match his strength. He had happily hollered out a warning when they
encountered their first large group. "Got a bunch of
em
!
Took two out on me turn! The
biggun
is mine!"
Dramor was as good as his word and the demon blood orc had indeed fallen to his
pick. Once all the orcs had been slain, the mountain man stood a long time
staring at the ground where the demon blood had fallen. "Don' know what to
make of it, Miss Tana. Drove me picks home and the darn thing just blew away
like there weren't much to hold it together. Don' know what to make of it
a’tall
."