The Sword of Darrow (3 page)

F
ar from the castle, a few miles from Sonnencrest, the landscape was painted with the colors of spring. On the ground lay a carpet of flowers in yellow, pink, and blue, still moist with the morning dew.

But nature seldom sings to the deeds of men. Into this bright landscape arose a dark sound, the sound of a thousand footsteps striking the ground in unison, warning of dark deeds to come.

Beltar’s army had arrived.

The army halted on the bank of the Nikanobi River. Across the water lay the edge of the kingdom of Sonnencrest. Crowding the far shore were the towering trees of the Pfimincil Forest, and at the other side of the forest lay an open highway leading directly to Blumenbruch and the palace gates.

Beltar paced along the bank, eyeing the landscape for the telltale signs of ambush or deceit. To protect his army, Beltar divided his men into three divisions. Each made separate crossings. Inside the forest, the soldiers of Sonnencrest would be waiting. To the Sonnencrest army, the forest was a perfect place to lay a trap. But Beltar had crafted a trap of his own.

One of his divisions would not march through the forest at all. Instead, they would set a trap. These soldiers would board rafts and float down the river to where the forest ended. There they would disembark and march to the road connecting the forest with the capital city of Blumenbruch. Then they would block Sonnencrest’s escape, mopping up the remains of the inferior Sonnencrest army.

Beltar’s advisors argued that it was a mistake to devote a third of his men to this ambush. These soldiers would be needed in the forest to break the Sonnencrest lines. But Beltar had no regard for his opponent. Sonnencrest might lie in ambush, but they would have to fight. And no army of peaceful farmers could match up to the warriors of Globenwald.

As the last of the goblins stepped into the forest, the pirate Telsinore stepped out from behind a tree. Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked warily to his left and right. Seeing no soldiers, he hurried to the water’s edge. From his shirt, he withdrew a telescope and peered down river and then up. Satisfied that no goblins remained, he waved his hand. From the forest emerged his band of men, oddly attired with long hair, earrings, and strange hats. Behind them, they pulled three rowboats. With hardly a whisper of sound, they were in the water, rowing feverishly upstream.

Telsinore looked back into the forest. His scheme was working. The goblins had gone to war, avenging the murder of Rildon. With the goblins at war, the emerald mines would be left unguarded. And the emerald mines of Globenwald were the richest in the known world.

He imagined the gems, filling his boats. He imagined Three Fingers Frick, felled by an assassin’s hand. His ocean would be free of rivals. He, Telsinore, would be the king of the seas. He dug his paddle deep into the water and let forth a great laugh that sent birds fleeing into the forest.

Beneath a canopy of kamilko trees stood Beltar, telescope in hand, surveying the landscape ahead. What he saw made him curse.

Off in the distance, his soldiers were chasing one of Zindown’s creatures.

The skriabeasts were fast, ferocious, giant wolf-like monsters with long muscular legs, and they could be ridden like horses. They not only attacked enemy soldiers but ate them as well, a fact that gave Zindown special pride.

But although the skriabeasts were able to move with astonishing speed, they were proving nearly impossible to control. In the forest, their keen noses found temptation everywhere. Sensing prey, predators, or some mysterious scent, these skriabeasts would bolt from the path, their exasperated riders screaming orders that the hideous animals completely ignored.

Worse than that was the noise the beasts made. In designing the animal, Zindown had managed to contort its vocal cords so that they neither howled like wolves nor barked like dogs. Instead, when they opened their jaws, they let forth screams, sharp and high-pitched. At first, it sounded something like
skreeeeeee,
which gave the creatures their name. But a second or two into the scream, their vocal cords began to waver and the tone changed to an ear-splitting, hideous screech.

Beltar had hoped his army might travel ten miles a day. But his progress had been tormented by delays. Three days into the march, the army had barely traveled six miles.

Slowness was not Beltar’s only setback. The forest provided perfect cover for an ambush. To avoid alerting the enemy, he had ordered his troops to remain silent. But the terrible cry of the skriabeasts signaled their presence for miles ahead and the low moans of the caged Cyclops unnerved his troops.

Beltar had wondered whether to bring the Cyclops at all. It was a violent and temperamental giant. Taken in battle from a far-away island kingdom, the Cyclops had been used to hammer tunnels in mountains and expand the caves where goblins preferred to live. Ten feet tall and stoutly built, it possessed uncommon strength. With its hundred-pound hammer, it could demolish solid rock—or a strong stone wall, like the palace wall at Blumenbruch.

So Beltar loaded the Cyclops and his hammer into a cage. To calm the Cyclops, Beltar ordered three cave trolls to march at its side. Their presence seemed to ease his torments and his moaning became less frequent, but when he did moan, the cave trolls joined in, delighted to be part of the song. Together, they signaled Beltar’s advance far into the forest. Beltar cursed the Cyclops. He cursed Zindown. As he scanned the forest floor, he cursed the cowardly enemy that had yet to appear. He called to an aide.

“Unleash the ravens,” he ordered and the soldier ran to the cages where the ravens were kept. The ravens were scavengers. They would find the Sonnencrest army and settle in the trees above. Their awful caws would betray the enemy long before the goblin soldiers were actually in sight.

While the Cyclops moaned in the forest, the Nikanobi River rang with a happier noise. It was a song of the sea. And from three meandering rowboats rose a raucous, drunken chorus of joy.

The life of a simple sailor

Has no appeal to me

That’s why I’m a pirate

As evil as can be

My life is well rewarded

By a swig from me keg of rum

And the treasure I’ve a stolen

Is a mighty, mighty sum

Oh, spare me all your pity

For the hardships of the sea

The life of a heartless pirate

Needs no sympathy

The riches I have squandered

I could not count them all

Many places I have wandered

Some places I have crawled

No matter where I travel

I’m ready to do blows

And when I meet my maker

I’ll punch ’im in the nose!

Oh, spare me all your pity

For the hardships of the sea

Life for a heartless pirate

Needs no sympathy

Cradled in the river’s current, the three boats rocked back and forth as the occupants swayed with the song. Inside the boats were boxes of jewels and their weight pushed the boats deep into the water. In the first boat, balancing himself on the bow, stood Telsinore, dancing a careful jig to the song of his crew.

Not far downstream, goblin soldiers were loading rafts, preparing for their journey around the forest. When the pirate song reached their ears, they stopped their work and peered upstream. The singing grew louder and when three rowboats wobbled around a bend and into plain view, there were snickers and outright laughter until one goblin officer barked orders and two hundred soldiers mounted the rafts.

Perhaps those pirates might have mounted a charge had they noticed the goblins at all. Clapping in time to Telsinore’s jig, shouting bawdy insults, they drifted forward, oblivious to the enemy ahead. And when one pirate sighted the goblins through a blurry eye, he stuttered, “G-g-g-goberlings!” which sent a new roar of laughter across the water.

But Telsinore, in an attempt to see the goblins himself, lifted one leg from his dance and swung round to face the river ahead. This maneuver was too bold for his condition, and he found himself wavering on one foot, his arms spread to each side, clawing for balance. He saw the goblins and his eyes grew large. But before words could leave his lips, he was swallowed by the current below.

Now the pirates saw their foe. Directly ahead stood a blockade of rafts, manned with goblins, weapons drawn.

Were the pirates frightened? Not one bit.

In one boat, the pirates rose at once, raising sabers high in the air with a blood-curdling cry. But no sooner had the charge been sounded than the rowboat tipped over on its side, dumping the crew, its treasure, and an empty rum keg into the river.

In the second boat, one of the pirates stood at the bow, preparing to strike at the goblins. But instead of reaching the goblins, the boat stuck a sandbar, launching their leader face first into the mud. Alarmed, the crew staggered into the water, tripping, falling, and stumbling into one another.

And the third boat? Oars pounded the water, but in random directions. The craft began to spin. Some pirates did not bother paddling, instead stuffing their shirts with emeralds. Faster and faster, the boat spun until it collided with goblin rafts. One pirate leaped into the water, but his stolen treasure carried him to the bottom. The rest were lifted by the goblins, one by one, drunk and dizzy, into their rafts.

Meanwhile, Telsinore was in terrible distress. Though he was a man of the sea, Telsinore was not a very strong swimmer. Driven to the bottom by the current, he bounced randomly across the riverbed, his arms and legs flailing against the water.

His head struck a rock. His body stilled and gradually floated upward. His head broke the surface of the water. Cool air crossed his forehead and traveled down to his mouth. At the first taste of air, his lungs exploded, disgorging water.

Frantically, his hands clawed, searching for something to keep him afloat, until they struck a round wooden object too large to grasp. His fingers found an edge, but the object slipped away. He reached up again and realized it was a keg. He clutched the barrel at both ends and lifted his head above the water. Another cough, this one long and helpless, followed. The cough gave way to wheezing breaths. And when the wheezing ended, he peered out from behind the keg to see where he might be.