Authors: James Wolf
In the next moment he was gone. Exploding away through the trees, heading for the lights and the screams.
Taem sprinted through the sacred groves, hurtling for the great fire. The crash of blade upon blade was up ahead in the middle of the village. Taem careered over the ornate bridges, past the forest floor huts, bounding over dead Aborle bodies as he made for Leafholme’s centre.
The Aborle had been caught unawares! The Kruns had surged into the party, slaughtering the unarmed Aborle as they celebrated. Their cackling howls reverberated through the magnificent trees. The Star Lanterns bathed Leafholme with their heavenly glow, but there was no paradise here now.
Taem dashed between the bases of two mighty oaks, under the walkways above, flying into the central clearing. Mangled Aborle corpses littered the clearing around the fire. The rest of the Aborle had scattered, fleeing up into the village’s higher walkways. Kruns were all over Leafholme, chasing and murdering any Aborle they could get their hands on. Taem shuddered as he heard the terrible shrieks of dying Aborle.
A gathering of Kruns had strung an Aborle up by her wrists on a wooden spit, and held her out to roast over the Fire of Honour. The Aborle screamed in agony as the flames licked her body and burned her legs. Taem felt his anger rage as the Kruns snarled with laughter, as they taunted the shrieking Aborle.
How could any creatures enjoy causing such pain?
Taem Sodan mowed into the back of those Kruns, hacking down half a dozen of them before they could turn and bring their weapons to bear. The Aborle over the fire squealed as her skin began to melt and she was burnt alive. Taem swathed through the remaining Kruns, using Estellarum to rip them to pieces. More Krun rushed to attack the Sodan, as he smashed through their comrades. But Taem cut them all down. Fury burned through every fibre of his being.
Taem hurried to haul the wailing Aborle out of the fire. Taem cut the forest woman down and gently lowered her to the ground. The Aborle’s skin was horrifically scorched, her face disfigured by charred burns, and her legs were black, but Taem could still recognise it was the placid elder Cibriel. A woman who, Taem was sure, could never do harm to anyone. Taem felt as if his blood was frozen. Seeing such a good woman reduced to this, was as painful as a spear thrust through the belly.
‘Thank you, my boy,’ Cibriel gasped through desiccated lips, as she pressed her hand to his cheek.
Tears glistened in Taem’s eyes as he held the old Aborle woman. The horrific moaning of other Aborle being tortured swept through the once-tranquil village.
‘You are Sodan,’ Cibriel smiled weakly, as she gripped Taem’s arm. ‘Protect my people!’ Cibriel cried with the last of her strength. ‘Save my people, Sodan…’
Taem watched, powerless, as Cibriel’s soul fled from her ravaged body into the solace of the last embrace of the Light.
‘The Light will guide you, old friend,’ Taem murmured, as he clasped the Aborle woman close to his chest.
Tears trailed down Taem’s cheeks as he softly laid Cibriel’s body down. Implacable anger blazed through him. A white hot fury burned in his heart. Taem glared up through menacing eyes as he perceived Krun screaming towards him.
Baek and Gerandel had managed to reach bows and quivers just as the carnage erupted. They had cried for everyone to climb into the trees, but most of the Aborle had been too slow to react. Many were now dead, and much of Leafholme was on fire. Aborle had fled in every direction. Those that had made it into the dark forest were gone, but savage Krun gangs were stalking through the tree village butchering any survivors.
Shandor was with Baek and Gerandel, grouped together with many other Aborle warriors. They had picked up any weapons they could find and were hunting down the evil invaders. The Kruns were leaderless. And, having already divided into pillaging mobs, they were easy for the Aborle warriors to outnumber and overpower. Nevertheless, there were so many murdering Krun scavengers crawling all over the village that Aborle who were unable to defend themselves were being slaughtered.
‘Shayel!’ Baek cried as he loosed his bow. ‘Where are you!’
Gerandel struck down another enemy. He turned, and deftly used his sword to envelop the blade of the next charging Krun. Following through, Gerandel lunged and pierced the Krun through the heart.
Baek looked down at a dead Aborle, Lareal, a friend of his mother’s. He saw how the Krun had cut her flesh into strips, and sliced chunks out of her face – and Baek realised how the Krun must have made her beg and scream before the end. For the first time in his life, Baek knew what it was to hate.
‘This way, Aborle!’ Shandor bellowed through the slaughter and the smoke, leading over one of the rope bridges towards the screams coming from the hut in the next tree. A dozen Aborle followed behind the Forest Guard Captain.
‘Baek!’ Shandor cried back. ‘Take the rest of the Aborle up to the second level.’
Baek bounded up the spiral stairway out onto a broad walkway, his father on his shoulder and other warriors behind.
Baek drew and loosed his bow into a foul Krun rummaging through an Aborle corpse.
‘Split up and scour the second level!’ Baek yelled, as he ran on with his father and two others.
A handful of Kruns charged towards the father and son. Baek’s arrows were swift, and Gerandel’s sword flashed like lightning – under the glow of the Star Lanterns. Those Krun could not last long, and their corpses were soon staining the once beautiful timbers of Leafholme’s walkways with their dark blood.
‘Shayel!’ Baek roared.
Where was his sister?
Despite all the Star Lanterns lighting up the night, he could not see a thing through all the smoke billowing up from the huts below. It stung his eyes and clogged his throat.
‘This way!’ Gerandel cried, leading them on into a house. Just in time to fight off the Kruns who had been arguing over the best way to make the Aborles they held under knife-point suffer.
‘Have you seen Shayel?’ Baek asked the survivors, as his father slew the last of the hideous Kruns.
‘No,’ an Aborle-maiden wailed, as she broke down in tears.
And terror surged through Baek as he realised the girl was Delese, one of Shayel’s best friends. Delese crawled over to a man that Baek knew was her betrothed, and she cried as she cradled his head in her lap. Baek was filled with misery as he realised why Delese was heartbroken. Delese’s betrothed was Hanrel – a friend whom Baek had known since they had run through the woods as children – and he was soaked in blood. The wound to Hanrel’s chest was deep, and Baek knew his friend would be dead in moments.
‘Go to the Light, brother,’ Baek knelt down to clasp Hanrel’s hand. ‘Go with the knowledge that your life bought enough time for the others to live.’
‘
Elliterati
,’ all the Aborle in the hut whispered – both survivors and warriors – as they touched their hands to their hearts. Delese sobbed as she bent down to kiss Hanrel’s forehead.
There was nothing more Baek could do there, and there were still other Aborle out there who could yet be saved. He had to find his sister! So, with regret and sorrow in his heart, Baek turned away from his dead friend and gestured for his father and the other warriors to leave.
Baek hurried out the house. He looked over the edge of the walkway down to the forest floor, and saw it was utterly silent down there. Baek thought the complete quiet was ominous. Nothing lived by the Fire of Honour, neither Krun nor Aborle. It was as if death itself had swept through the forest village.
On the first level, Baek could see Shandor and her Aborle were hacking through and hunting down Kruns. Chasing the Kruns over the bridges and battling them on the platforms. As Baek hurried to survey the second level, he could see Kruns in many of the huts. And the wailing of tortured Aborle was horrific.
How could this be happening?
‘Come on!’ Gerandel cried, urging the Aborle warriors on over the next walkway, onto a platform where half a dozen Kruns were slicing up a screaming Aborle-woman.
The enraged Aborle warriors were so angry that they howled as they charged towards those Krun, and hacked them to pieces.
Baek saw, fifty yards away, over a vast open drop to the forest floor below, two Kruns chasing after a screaming Aborle-maiden. Baek exhaled as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched it, drew his bow and steadied himself. He knew it was a difficult shot, but the girl’s life depended on it. As Baek exhaled again, his flight flew true and a sprawling Krun toppled over the edge of the walkway to the forest earth far below. The second pursuing Krun froze, an easier target. Baek pulled back and loosed again, piercing the creatures throat.
Gerandel and the other Aborle had just hurled the last two Kruns from the platform as Baek shouted.
‘Father!’ Baek pointed up to the third level. ‘The Hall of the Council!’
There must have been fifty Aborle fleeing over the walkways into the hall of cascading spirals. But to Baek and Gerandel’s horror, gangs of Kruns and Ugurs were converging on the hall from three different rope bridges.
‘Go!’ Baek said to his father and the other Aborle warriors, drawing an arrow and sighting a lumbering Ugur that was pursuing the helpless Aborle. Moments later the Ugur spluttered and fell, an arrow in its back. But Baek knew there were too many Krun up there. The Aborle warriors were on their way up – but they would never make it in time! Baek tried to calm himself as he pinned another arrow through a different Ugur, but he knew his people were about to be massacred.
‘We’re trapped in here!’ Shayel screamed from inside the spiral walls. ‘There is no way out of the Hall of Council!’
‘The Kruns are coming!’ An Aborle hollered, whilst he struggled to hold the thick oak door as the Kruns began to thump into it.
A massive axe-blade crashed through the door, dangerously close to one of the Aborle braced against it.
‘Aarrrggghh!’ the Aborle who had almost lost his head screamed, and all four Aborle who had been holding the door jumped away.
A heavy booted foot kicked the door back, to reveal a snarling horde of malicious Ugurs, and Kruns jostling behind them.
The crowd of screaming Aborle ran to the far side of the hall, beyond the council fire, as the Ugurs stomped inside.
‘Screeem,’ one of the huge Ugurs growled, as he crashed his axe through an ornate carving, smashing it into pieces.
‘Light help us!’ Some of the Aborle wailed, as others broke down into tears.
‘Da Light ain’t guna elp ya,’ an Ugur gnashed its hefty tusks together, dribbling down its chin.
‘Time t’ squeal,’ an Ugur prowled forward, his blood-stained scimitar glistening in the Aborle lantern-light.
Another Ugur growled its sinister intent, salivating as it sneered at the Aborle’s fear. The Aborle huddled together at the far end of the hall, quivering and crying.
‘U’s guna wish u’s never been cut frum yer mu’vers gut!’ An Ugur licked the Aborle blood off his sword blade.
‘Gut em buoys!’ The lead Ugur howled back at the Kruns, as it glared at the ever so soft and sweet Aborle-maidens. ‘Chain em up an we’s take em back o-ver Dredgen wiv us.’
But as the foursome of monstrous Ugurs glared with greedy eyes at the fresh meat, no Kruns came. Unnoticed until that moment, there was no longer any cackling or howling from outside. There was nothing but silence beyond the Hall of Council.
‘Buoys!’ The Ugur leader roared, as it swivelled its hefty skull.
But to the monstrous creature’s surprise, there were no Kruns waiting in the hall doorway.
‘Where dem nattin cowards gone?’ One of the Ugurs snorted.
‘Yellar-bellied, durty, stinkin cheats!’ A massive Ugur growled.
‘Puny Krun!’ the Ugur leader hawked up a rancid ball of phlegm and spat it out on the floor. ‘Cursse em!’ It snorted as it stomped towards the dismayed Aborle.
‘Please don’t hurt us!’ Shayel begged.
The four Ugurs rumbled a vicious laugh.
One of the Ugurs snatched Shayel from the crowd. It glared as it brought her trembling face close to its own, and threatened her eye with the rusted point of its blood stained sword. The Ugur grunted and licked its lips, as it eyed her up and down from beneath its bony eye-brow ridges. It would enjoy sating its lust for blood and flesh on this girl.
‘We’s goona play wit yu,’ the Ugur snarled at Shayel, ‘hurt yu, makes yu I’s slave – makes yu wis yu’s dead. An dere’s nufin yu can du a’bout it!’
‘I can’t,’ Shayel whispered; her eyes focused beyond the sword-tip that was a hair’s breadth from blinding her. ‘But he can.’
‘What?’ The Ugur grunted.
As the Ugur turned to look, a slash of blue metal lacerated through its eyes – the last thing the nasty creature ever saw.
Taem had rocketed from the stairwell, out onto the platform outside the mesmerising spiral walls of the Hall of Council. The Sodan had torn into the Kruns, obliterating all of them, hacking them to pieces with fury and vengeance. There had been almost a score of the enemy up there, but Taem was possessed by a ferocious power. He had hit them hard and fast, and he had taken them unawares. Had the Kruns dared to all fight Taem at once, they would easily have drowned him with their numbers. But many had cowed and fled rather than face The Sodan’s terrible rage.