The Sorcerer's Scourge (28 page)

Kalil was not in very good shape and lagged after his two partners. Toman was sure to have the boy trussed up by the time he caught up with them, but he pushed himself through the dense undergrowth as fast as he could. Although he could not see them, Kalil was able to follow the shouts of Toman and Aaron.

Kalil paused a moment to catch his breath as he leaned against a tree. The slaver pulled in several deep breathes and took a swig from the small flask he was never without. Before he could swallow the strong liquor, Kalil felt something like a rope or cord cinch around his throat. Something lifted the man from the ground and his feet kicked futilely at air as the alcohol ran down his windpipe. After just a few seconds, the kicking stopped and Kalil the slaver was no more.

Aaron was only a few strides behind Toman. He could no longer hear Kalil’s plodding steps behind him and assumed the man had stopped to rest and drink. Either that or his heart had finally given out after so many years of abusing his body and burst. That was fine with Aaron. It just meant a larger share for him, and the fat Sumaran was never any good for anything other than standing a watch and sharing his rum.

A root found his foot and he fell hard onto his outstretched hands. He hit the ground hard enough to make vocalizing the curse that instantly sprang to mind impossible. Aaron pulled in a deep breath then tried to get back to his feet. The root pulled him back to the ground just as he stood up. Terror infused his body and scream tore from his throat as the roots pulled him deeper into the thick undergrowth. He clawed futilely at the soft earth as something dragged him deeper into the woods.

Toman heard a hard thump behind him and assumed Aaron had fallen. He was almost on the boy whose small frame was less adept at forcing its way through the thick ferns and branches that crossed the narrow animal path they raced down. He then heard Aaron shout followed by another heavy thump, but this one sounded wet and meaty and the screams fell silent.

The slaver was about to turn back to see what had befallen his comrade when the boy tripped and fell. The kid was quick, but Toman was on him before he could get back to his feet.

“I got ya now, ya little rat,” Toman crowed gleefully.

Lucas screamed and tried to scuttle backwards away from the reaching man’s hands. Terror gripped him as his eyes looked past the slaver to the brush that suddenly seemed to come to life just behind him. A huge arm seemed to sprout from the thick jumble of leaves, limbs, and creeper ivy and an enormous, calloused hand wrapped around the slaver’s neck and lifted him from the ground with ease.

The man kicked and clawed futilely and disappeared along with the tree creature back into the shadowy forest. A sharp crack like the snapping of a branch echoed through the woods and then there was silence. Lucas got to feet and made to run the last few hundred yards to his home. He paused and looked back.

“Thank you, forest spirit,” the boy called into the woods then raced home.

Bron dropped his camouflaging magic, looked at the dead man at his feet, and let out a huge sigh. He would need to burn the corpses, so he walked back to where he had left the other two bodies. He tied a length of braided vine around their ankles and dragged them through the woods like a string of freshly caught fish.

It was rare that he had to put down men in his woods, but when he did, he used to give them back to the earth to feed the trees, plants, and insects as nature intended. However, for the past few years, the things that went into the ground often did not stay there. There was an evil in the air, perverting the natural process of life and death.

Although Bron dragged a combined weight of over five hundred pounds, he trekked effortlessly through the woods with his burden. The few people that have ever seen Bron mistakenly assumed he was an ogre. At eight-feet tall, thickly muscled, and skin like tree bark, it was an honest mistake. Bron was only half-ogre, but about the only thing that stood out as human was his normally kind and gentle nature. He took no pleasure in dealing these men their deaths, but he would not allow such unnatural predation within his forest.

As a druid of Ellanee, Bron could travel through the thickest woods almost as easily as a man walked a cobbled road. Ellanee bestowed these woods upon him to watch over and protect. He also stood as a guardian to the creatures that lived within it, and that included the small human settlement to which the boy belonged.

His ears picked up a deep buzzing that grew increasingly loud until it was right in his ear.

“Oh, what did you do?” a shrill voice asked next to his head before buzzing closer to the bodies. “Ew, they smell. Not as bad you though.”

“I bathed today, Trielle,” Bron told the wood sprite.

Trielle was a wood sprite Bron rescued shortly after leaving the human settlement he lived in as a young boy. She had flown into a spider web cast by a gargantuan spider, a species that grew to the size of a housecat. She had damaged one of her four wings trying to escape so Bron had carried her back to her tree and was nearly pricked to death by a thousand other wood sprites wielding tiny spears.

“Pfft, you could bathe five times a day. You’re an ogre and that stink goes clear to the bone.”

“I am only half ogre, in case you have forgotten.”

“Yeah, the stinky half. Whacha kill these guys for? They don’t look like they were dead like those others were before you squashed them.”

“They were slavers,” the druid answered. “They were about to grab one of the human children from the farm settlement.”

“Ugh, you should have let them have him. One less dirty human around is always a good thing.”

“All creatures have a place in the world. Even humans,” Bron told her, repeating the same lecture he had used many times in the past.

“Yeah, they got a place. The bottom of the ocean is a good place. They come in, cut down the trees to make their stupid homes, and plant their food right next to it because they are too lazy to look in the forest for it like everyone else.”

“Different does not mean wrong or evil, Trielle.”

“Evil schmevil, I’m saying fish food is fish food. You gonna burn ‘em?” Trielle asked.

“Of course.”

“Yeah, these deaders just don’t want to stay dead these days. Speaking of fish food and roasted humans, you have anything to eat? I’m starving!” Trielle asked, jumping between subjects as she often did.

Bron quirked an eye at the wood sprite. “Why don’t you go into the woods and find food like everyone else? Or are you too lazy?”

“Who are you calling lazy?” Trielle demanded and started buzzing wildly around Bron’s head, jabbing him with her short spear. “Is that lazy, huh? Take that!”

Her spear had no chance of piercing Bron’s thick skin, which was fortunate because wood sprites coated the tips in a rather virulent paralytic poison, but he surrendered nonetheless.

“I have some oat bread and honey in my cave. If you help me cleanse these three I will share.”

“Darn right you will! You still owe me.”

“For what? Saving your life?” the druid asked.

“Of course. That privilege incurs a lifelong debt of friendship, and friends share,” Trielle explained as if it made perfect sense.

“I do not think you fully understand the concept of what incurs debt and who gets the reward.”

“I don’t care as long as I get food,” the wood sprite dismissed with a snort.

The odd pair reached the open clearing where Bron could safely burn the corpses without fear of starting a forest fire. He began collecting deadfall, made much easier since he began stockpiling it nearby. Trielle actually helped by grabbing armfuls of dry pine needles and tossing the tiny piles of combustibles onto the pyre.

Bron collected the coins, blades, and jewelry of the dead men as payment for his services and to give him something to trade on the rare occasion he needed something from the humans. Then he tossed the bodies onto the mound of wood and brush and set it aflame with a minor spell.

“All right, let’s go eat!” Trielle shouted and flitted rapidly towards the cave Bron called home.

Bron picked up a leisurely pace back towards his cave while Trielle buzzed noisily and impatiently around his head and back and forth along the path. Wood sprites were not known for their patience and Trielle was considered hyperactive and impulsive even by her own kind.

“Hurry up, Big Stinky!” Trielle shouted at him as she buzzed up and down the path, occasionally prodding him in the back of his neck with her spear.

Bron on the other hand had the patience of a tree and was just about as immovable. The wood sprite may as well have been yelling at the sun to rise faster so she could begin her day. Bron moved at whatever speed he felt the situation and his mood warranted, and few things if any would coax him to do otherwise. However, once in motion, the same held true when it came to slowing or stopping him.

It took nearly half an hour to reach the cave and the first thing Trielle noticed was the massive lump of fur laying directly in front of the door that sealed Bron’s cave. The wood sprite immediately recognized it as Grumph, an enormous dire bear and possibly Bron’s best friend. Except for Trielle, because wood sprites were the best friends anyone could have. Even lying down, Grumph’s body was so big, only the top portion of the eight-foot door behind him was visible.

Trielle zoomed towards the bear, hovering right next to his ear and beat her wings as hard as she could, creating a buzzing as loud as a dozen katydids. “Move it, fuzz bucket! You’re blocking the food!”

Grumph raised his huge head at the obnoxious noise and let out such a roar that it blew Trielle backwards several feet in the air. The wood sprite quickly recovered and dove towards Grumph’s muzzle

“Take that tone with me again and hibernation will be coming early this year!” Trielle threatened, jabbing at his big black nose with her envenomed spear.

Grumph took a swipe at Trielle with a paw the size of a round shield—a round shield sporting claws nearly half a foot long. Despite his enormous size, the paw swipe moved so fast it was practically a blur. Trielle easily dodged the half-hearted attack.

“Ok, that’s it! It’s nap time, mister!” Trielle shouted as she ramped up her wing beats in preparation for a run at the bear’s nose.

“Stop it, you two,” Bron rumbled. “Grumph, you have to move so I can get inside.”

The bear flopped back down and grumbled irritably. Grumph was never in a good mood and Trielle’s harrassment had made him extremely contrary.

“We’re having lunch now with honey. I know that’s why you are lying in front of my door, so if you want any you will have to move.”

When you are as big as Grumph, nothing and no one could make you do anything you did not want to do. The only thing you could do was present an option that he preferred over being cranky and obstinate. Fortunately, promises of food, particularly such delicacies as honey, were possibly the greatest incentive there was and one of the few things Grumph prized over being belligerent. Grumph grumbled noisily as he stood up and shook the dirt, bark, and pine needles from his long fur.

“Hey, watch it, carrion breath!” Trielle shouted as Grumph’s shaking pelted her with detritus.

Bron barely had the door cracked before Trielle darted inside and went searching for the promised treat. The inside of the cave was rather homey and not what one would expect to find. The entranceway was fairly short and quickly opened up into a large, cavernous room. Woven mats of reeds and grass covered most of the floor, a large table made from fallen logs tied together like a raft, and various other pieces of furniture of rough make adorned the interior.

Bron lit several candles he made himself from either tallow or beeswax, displaying the art adorning the walls, painted directly onto the stone. The druid made paint from extracts from various bark and berries. Few would call his work extraordinary, but it did not lack for talent.

Trielle had found the flask of honey and was using her spear in an attempt to pry out the stopper. Bron crossed the room, took the flask from the shelf, and popped out the cork. Trielle retrieved her tiny clay cup and buzzed eagerly as Bron filled it up.