CHAPTER 22.

In the Wild

The night's blackness was finally about to close its greedy jaws over everything. Ghaagh'urih had attempted to squint through the last flecks of dirty-gray twilight, flying as low as possible to distinguish the road and hopingly high enough to avoid any probable foes from easily spotting who actually slumped in the saddles. Now, however, landing was more than obligatory. Fatigue prickled at his runny eyes, and the chill of the winds seemed poring through every fiber of his not-so-dry clothing. He was scarcely alone in this discomfort.

A cliff with one steep, sheltery edge loomed dimly amid the tarpit mass of vegetation, to the left from the highway. So did a muddy brook, reflecting still dully the wavering plants from its surface. Hither the weary warrior directed the beast's course. A couple of batlike birds were left to shake wing-fists and croaking avian expletives in anger after the poorly steered ghamyrluuschk, as it crashed through treetops -- once sideways -- and smashed newly constructed nests into pieces. Furthermore, they most certainly had not asked for a Khran-shaped hole punched through the penthouse when they had settled in.

Ghaagh'urih, in the first place, did not belong to the elite of air-steed riders. Lord Khran-Av'ees's nightsight was probably the best of the ragged troupe, but in his present state he could contribute only to the noise pollution. Sprawling over three seats again, he had been snoring like a chainsawing competition for several hours now. This definitely could not be regarded as deluxe in-flight entertainment, what with putting every elf's teeth on edge and making them want to gouge their eardrums out.

Something positive yet could be found in this rumbling. It appeared to keep the beast on a merry, amiable mood, as the noise bore a great resemblance to the atrocious-sounding crooning with which the mother ghamyrluuschk comfort their young. Perhaps his speaking had somewhat of a similar note too. According to all sensible logic, the animal ought to have tossed and kicked the strangers away from its back eons agone. This species was prone to shun anyone else than its proper master when it came to grabbing at the harnesses.

Gho-Ni'ngobsch, while still at the age of 27000 quite as burly as in his youth, had gradually been stripped off the best of his eyesight. Granted, he managed to stride about without spectacles most of the tides, but darkness was much worse a fiend than e'er hitherto. Had he steered the beast, it would have stumbled to its own shadow.

Now, the creature plummeted screeching and careening into the bushes at the roots of the cliff. There shattered the well-nurtured silence, if there had been one in the mists of Khran-Av'ees's snoring. After maybe half a minute, with much patting and stroking at the beast's shoulders, it finally halted its ruckus and let those passengers still conscious to clamber down onto the tiny opening. It was encompassed on two sides by the tangled wossname-plants -- which looked no different from one another in the gloom than lumps of coal inside a sealed coffin -- with the waterbank as its fourth edge.

Resignedly, Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch listened to the thicket for any sounds of pursuit or other curious spectators advancing. The dark clods of vegetation yet stood mute and stiff. The high winds had no power down here. Only a couple of birds bearing a grudge somewhere above continued to gibber furiously about the air-terrorists.

"Bloody hellpits wi' tis daytide." Gho-Ni'ngobsch wiped some sweat off his forehead. "D'ye reckons we coulds ge' a fire goin'?"

"Alas, dat'd be all bonny an' ev'rythin', aye verily, but ents it akin to knockin' on 'em bleedin' front doors o' dem rebel bastards?" Ghaagh'urih's quite a loud whisper issued from a little way off. He was trying to inspect the spot, squinting ferociously through the dark. Aye, they might be able to sleep beneath the thick lower branches of that tree, but there was no telling in this murk what might grow or wriggle on the ground...

"An' me cannae sees wut damned choice we gots. Me ole bones tells tis ents gonna be ane o'em bonny summertide nighties whe' it doesna matter if ye has lost yer wee li'l loinpocket sumwhere. Dem weather-lady's gonna wend 'er way past 'em milestones o' water freezin' an' nigher to dem gates o' Tghuonegh'lchach tha' in a good few weektides. An' ye shoul' ken we ent bloody gots much shelter against 'em coldness o' sum netherworlds. Eke, me ents seeing nought, me ent, in tis damned netherpit o'em blind imps! Howe'er does ye reckon me cans e'en go an' take a leak inne deepmost o' dem night-tides if me cannae sees a bleedin' yard hither- or thitherwards or e'en me ain hose?"

The bodyguard halted his unsteady raking of the undergrowth. Amid the ensuing quietude, Qwertyui made a cough. He had gradually overcome his shock, ceased the inane whimpering, and been content to crouch gloomily the rest of the travel in the backmost saddle.

"Ah-heh, if I might be granted a moment to express my, krhmh, opinion of the situation... eh-hem..." He cringed slightly as the veteran slowly turned around to glower at him.

"Hrrmh?"

It was an unpleasant state of affairs, alright. The warlord might calmly listen to the counsel of the scribe, but Gho-Ni'ngobsch had for aye borne an open aversion towards Lirbutiliiyui's former servant. Ghaagh'urih was an easier case, as he seemed merely one of those standard, spineless lackeys that would jump into a lava pool if their lord thusly ordered, on the way accepting everything and everyone around them. Unfortunately you could hardly collect a whole army of such persons. The gray-hair had trice threatened to throw the lowlander down from the beast's back. There be nought else to it now, but resorting to outright flattery, if Qwertyui wished to keep all his teeth still intact. The problems arose from the fact that fawning might not sink so well into this stubborn bull as it did to Lord Khran-Av'ees.

"W-well, errh-hem... I do deem that a fire, e'en if a petite one, would be an, erh, astonishingly fine idea. See, there is indeed the menace of the coldness adding up considerably, and... erh, verily, I do nay reckon the twenty-times damned pus-filth of yonpits skulks on our trail any longer-"

"An' whyfor shouldna dey, ye piece o' maggotdung, bein' ane o'em bloody damn dirt-lickers o'em wizzards an' rebels yessel'? By 'em firehammer o' Dthg'aar, doennae try ta ge' all soppy on me, or me'll twists yer bloody stick-body intae ane o'em bonny giftie bows aroun' dem tree o'er yon an' burn it!" the veteran snarled.

"Erh-heh, nay need to get livid, nay, you do have a point, indeed." Qwertyui retreated a few steps. "Nevertheless, I deem they might nay be exactly... well... keen on starting the pursuit anew, what with... one thing and another. Eh, well, I would invite you over to brood for a moment on the abhorrent being that thusly rampaged around. We witen nay which sides perished in the end, or whether they both fell into the utmost ruin. And if, for some reason beyond the kenning of us poor mortals, the kingsfolk would have prevailed, their losses nonetheless were mighty on the very hourtide we took leave. I surmise they would be either incapable of following, or outright afraid. Erh... it was our lord who summoned forth the yonbeast, aye?" He uneasily scratched at his pointy nose. "They surely would nay wish for another such strike to fall upon them, now would they?"

Gho-Ni'ngobsch folded his treetrunk arms across his chest, and frowned morosely.

"Zounds an' 'em bloody moonblood knickers o' Yl-maaghtd'har, me donnae kens wha'e'er dat wossname daimon wuz. Methinks it wuz a bungle o' sumkin fro' our sir. As high an' mighty an' all as he is, aye verily, he still ents akin ta 'em wizzard-lordbuggershrrmhwhatsits o' yoretides. He couldna ha' kept dem bleedin' thyn in a leash, nay. An' he wouldna ha' been dat keen on scutterin' away from it dat anon, hads he been dem true lord o' it. Methinks 'em scum migh've spotted it too; dem ents so whopping fools as dem looks akin to inne 'eir wee li'l skirts an'- Aaahahahah! Ghaagh'urih, anon, hither!"

The elf addressed arrived just in time to help his fellow prop up Khran-Av'ees, who had been about to slide off from the saddle. Even though the ghamyrluuschk had performed at least one full 360 degree flip whilst landing, the warlord had not woken up. Something was seriously wrong, even though this thick sleep, nigh-on unconsciousness, resembled remarkably that inn case not too many a night back.

They untied Khran-Av'ees from the beast's back, and lowered him onto a patch of ground that assuredly farmed no poisonous or acidous weeds.

"Dght'aar's fireanvil an' bleedin' hells, sir's all damn fevery!" Ghaagh'urih yelped after feeling the warlord's forehead. "Dem night-hours are gonna smites 'im hard if he ents got any else shelter besides dat pile o' rags."

Indeed, alive the wee band might be. But that was just about it. Bruised, weaponless, foodless, mapless, not even sufficiently clad against the chilly gales of higher airs, not to mention frost, they were in the middle of nowhere. At some point they had flown past the dim lights of Mha-tdlha'Tdoch and some other village. Yet they had not been able to risk landing thither despite all the saliva-inducing dreams of hot meals and busty tavern-wenches. For all they kenned, the nighmost villages might be swarming with the rebel skunks.

When they had glided down erenow, it had been merely for the sake of bare necessities. To get some drinking water, wash and bandage the worst cuts... Granted, they had once already kindled a fire to boil rags, but the event had been stuffed with apprehension. As every elf had been as jumpy as a rubber ball on a trampoline and attempted to keep guard simultaneously, it was a miracle they had not started bandaging the nearby tree branches instead of actual limbs.

At that point had been spotted the absence of tinderboxes. Well, flammable objects for aye possessed their potential dangers, so no wonder the wardens back there had stealthily snatched them off everyone's belts. However, Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch scarcely were the boring comedy stereotype of a middle-class cityfamily camping for the erst time. They actually recognized the edible mushrooms and berries, kenned well not to hammer the tent poles into anthills and the burrows of various clawed critters, and could practically make fire out of water. Well, the latter was rather dubious, but all rugged woodsmen like their little exaggerations.

The commonplace deus ex machina of the stolen ghamyrluuschk being laden with a five-star Deluxe Super Plus Extra Ultimate Platinum Professional Edition™ camping set and pre-cooked meals for several days did not due to some whim of the wyrds occur this time. The saddlebags did encase a couple of useful objects like a blanket or two, a large flagon, and some flat gauge that might have been a compass. Elsewise the contents were out of the random laundry sack you stole in the hopes of uncovering an expensive evening dress for tonight's jet-set ball. The men dug out for instance wrong-sized boots and a smattering of garish silk shirts which were akin to tents for Qwertyui and too tight for everyone else. Although, they agreed that the lord would adore all the clashing, bright colors and might be able to sew a few of them together to make one, extra-voluminous raiment when back in Rha-ghi'Leh.

One of the bags hid for some inexplicable reason a meticulously compartmented box full of odorous oils, perfumes, and combs ordered by size. Wherefore someone would have wanted to drag such a prissy idiocy onto a gory battlefield was beyond everyone's fathoming. Admittedly, the gaffer and his brats had appeared rather too shiny in their heavy jewelry and hair that probably ne'er had met a single tangle. Perchance it be some of their posh, outlandish quirks, those damned swanky nuljaskh-buggers.

Khran-Av'ees was obviously in the worst state. It was mayhaps some fool's luck that his numerous wounds were none too deep. But unto the hour, an infection had already begun somewhere. Or then he simply had caught a cold whilst journeying through the wintry wind-halls, lolling there half-asleep in his sodden, torn breeches and his upper body utterly bare. Even though one might hight all that coarse, thick body hair a natural fur coating of sorts, it still remained insufficient. The warlord had worn the blankets ever since their unearthing, but this aid might have reached him too late.

"Oy, ye, pipsqueak." Gho-Ni'ngobsch pointed at the scribe with one thick finger. "Now woul' bes a bonny tide ta be useful an' put 'em shrewd head o' yers intae work. Ye wost, ye v'rily does, dat we ought to ge' lord inne beyon'-yon-sumthin outpost wi' haste an' anon. Well, howe'er many a daytide must we fly an' whither? Ye hasta ha' sum kennings inne yer damn wily head e'en without 'em fancy maps o' yers."

Ghaagh'urih had limped again somewhere off, studying at the surroundings, yet now with a small torch in hand.

Qwertyui gulped, and began counting with his fingers. "Eh, well, we most certainly did pass over Mha-tdlha'Tdoch this e'entide, and with the speeds of the erstwhile kin we would have wended our way thither for two-three daytides. We must be about... one fifth there now, and... eeh..."

"Murrrh?"

"Eahaeeh- It be two to four daytides, if we shall take leave anon in the erst light and journey unto the dusk, on pursuit of the road. B-but we must let the beast rest and furthermore make sure our rations do not run out- AIIEEEH donnaehitmeyou'llne'ergetthitherelsewise!"

"Hrrhmssh. Goo' point." The bigger man lowered his fist. "Woss'm other feller dawdlin' in? We verily oughts ta ge' dem-"

"Me's o'er here, me is," Ghaagh'urih jogged out of the bushes, torch aloft. "Dere's dem fairly dry li'l cave jus' undaneath 'em cliff o'er yon. A fair deal better'n dem bleedin' tree me erst thoughts fer our shelter. Still, better makes ane or two lean-tos and see if dere migh' be dry grass an' firs sumwhere."

A while later, a somewhat sad fire guttered at the mouth of a low grotto. After a handful of meters, it swiftly tapered down to a crack only a few inches tall, which meandered deep beneath the bedrock. The cave offered scant room, and nobody was able to sit straight. But at least the bedding was devoid of the insufferable mud that otherwise squelched everywhere, cold and sticky. Without sparing much interest to whether the drugged-up wizard might survive or not, the refugees stripped him off the warmest of his clothing and buttoned each on whatever would fit. Khran-Av'ees, who had begun visibly sweating and slightly trembling with rising fever, received the fancy fur-rimmed cloak. Though, the men kept for a good while arguing over whether they should just tear it in half and use it for their own comfort. It was not like their noses were not dripping due to the chill.

A further annoyance consisted of several very empty stomachs complaining in a raucous choir. The shriveled berries and minuscule eggs the gang had come upon ere the slumber-time might have nourished one undersized midget. There had also been the odd, hard cakes Ghaagh'urih had dug out of one saddlebag. Cutesy, simpering beetle motives had been imprinted on them, and each had the consistency of a small boulder. However, after chomping one down, his guts had begun moaning as if he had just swallowed several medium-sized rocks.

The ghamyrluuschk appeared to enjoy them for some unfathomable reason. Already the rather smoky smell that wafted forth when Ghaagh'urih had unwrapped the package had caused the beast to click its pincers playfully. Maybe it was commonly treated with these terrors someone's granny with no talent in whatsoever in baking might have concocted.

From the moment henceforth, it was a tardy, restless waiting. The minutes dragged onwards as if stretched ten times in duration. The shuddering and clattering of teeth increased by the hour, as the temperature indeed got depressed and slunk down to sulk somewhere slightly beneath the water-freezing degrees. Resting came to none with ease. Just as someone had managed to fall into an unsettled state somewhere in-between sleep and full awareness, he would startle awake due to some nightmarish vision or Khran-Av'ees's tossing and gurgling.

They took turns to keep watch, although the efficiency was much debatable. Qwertyui squeaked at every little snap, crackle, and pop, Gho-Ni'ngobsch might as well have sat with a blindfold over his eyes, and Ghaagh'urih kept peering at the inert Gha'ugonak more oft than the waterside, dread flapping in the pit of his stomach.

The most nerve-racking part must have occurred somewhere ere the turn of the days and after the small hours. Gho-Ni'ngobsch sat hunched by the fire, warming at his cold-stiff hands, and feeding the flames with a stick every now and then. It was a moment or two before he realized what was wrong with the black quietude.

It was too silent.

He turned around on his haunches, and hastily drew aside the covers piled over Khran-Av'ees who lay just beside the fire and the second lean-to in order to catch the most heat. His fear turned out to be true.

"Bloody hells, he ents breathing!" the man yelped, and started heaving up the warlord's torso. He almost stuck his leg into the flames in the crampedness of the space, as he attempted concurrently to kick the fellow warrior awake. "Ghaagh'urih! Up! Damnit, DAMNIT WAKES YE BLEEDIN' UP!"

"Urrh wossumdyng..." The addressed opened one weary eye. "Whatcha bleedin' pummelin' at me fer?"

"Ge' up! He ents breathin'! 'Ere, help me ge' 'im rolled o'er!"

Finally understanding the situation, Ghaagh'urih clambered up. They raised and shifted Khran-Av'ees to lie on his less injured flank.

The seconds stretched, but nought seemed to happen.

"Bloody dammit, he canna..." The elder man bit his lip. "Dammit, gimme sum room 'ere!"

Gho-Ni'ngobsch moved Khran-Av'ees to a slightly different position, such as the narrow space permitted, and applied his knee to the massive upper back a couple of times. There and then, the warlord started coughing ferociously, and long, rattling inhales ensued. Some kind of sticky phlegm and dried clumps of the same substance spilled out of his open mouth. Gradually, his breathing returned to the erstwhile rasping.

Both warriors shook slightly with nervous relief, as the initial danger had vanished a couple of minutes later.

"Ents gonna grace him wi' all 'em heat he'd need, but we hafta put 'im sittin' against dem wall o'er yon," Gho-Ni'ngobsch exhaled, wiping some dirty hair out of his eyes. "Bleedin' damn dammit an' buggerin' nether-imps. But leave 'im akin to dis, an' he'll be in danger o' v'rily losin' his breath anew."

"Yeh. Wouldnae wanna gives 'im whut dey calls dem kiss o' life. Yergh. Anyhow woul' goes hard on me to do summat akin to dat to sumone o' me ain kin, e'en if paids in bleedin' diamonds an' dem treasures o' yoretide highlords." Ghaagh'urih made a gagging movement across his throat, and spat into the fire. Why he did so was a mystery, especially as the wet clump caused a couple of good flames to dwindle into nought.

"Ha! Prolly dem pipsqueak woulds, an' pay fer it! Ha' ye e'er even seen 'im wi' a lass?"

"Oh, aye. Methinks he tried to hit ane inne lastmost tavern we wuz, but dem wench jus' glowers at dem. An' no wonder, wut wi' her being a head taller'n about twice as brawny round 'em shoulders'n all. Hah."

"Sumone needs ta ge' 'im ane o'em handy ladders, so dem can fer once taste sum sweeter delights tha' dem bleedin' dusty books, gruagrahahahahah, bugger dem tricksy letters..."

"Oy, but dem readin' ent dat bad, aye verily. Lord, for ane, likes 'em huge, all outlandish scrolls o' his and me has-"

Behind them, Qwertyui stared at the back wall of the grotto through slitted lids, feigning sleep. Teeth clamped together, it cost him his whole determination not to bounce up and sink his teeth into the elderman's throat. One day he would show these self-pompous mongrel-bastards, one day...

Khran-Av'ees had lost his half-mask somewhere during the battle. And indeed, his bare face was an unnerving sight, one that even a moderately brave wight would not wish to meet on a dark alley. Both Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch had beholden it erenow, even though the lord himself probably had no idea of this. On occasion he seemed nigh-on inane over protecting this injury of an unknown source, and had been known to lop off heads if a person so much as briefly glimpsed at him unmasked.

With a ring of greenish slime around his mouth and even the 'good' part of his visage bruised and swollen, the warlord appeared positively repulsive. The commonly covered left side, starting from the lower jaw, was black and scaly-looking. The coarse skin and withered muscles clung to the skull beneath, making the edges of the bones and the roots of the teeth jut out sharply. The hair around the left ear grew in sparse, wispy clumps, and the brow was non-existent. For some reason the eye had remained healthy, even if it was settled unnaturally deep into its socket, the skin all about blackish-gray and wrinkly.

Whereas Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch admitted that their lord was indeed beyond ugly, the matter was left at that. They were nigh-on as battle-scarred as Khran-Av'ees himself, and everyone wiste this detail merely added to the impression of vigor and stalwartness. This be a warrior whom you could not smite down with a single blow.

If he only could survive from the very ordeal, that was. They propped Khran-Av'ees into a half-sitting position as nigh the fire as achievable. An attempt to seek for a possible inflammation was also made, but none of his bruises looked that bad or stank. This hardship seemed welling forth somewhence else. Perchance an aftermath of somekin of all that magic and beyondworldly wossnames, though neither warrior could be sure.

Thus the minutes and hours continued to crawl onwards, each in turn keeping an eye on both the cave's mouth and the warlord. The silent, black trees oppressing, the chill creeping in through every seam and hole of the thin covers...

The mornlight broke the skies at some point during the lengthy waiting. A drizzle of mixed sleet and small hail rustled at the bushes, and fog hovered over the stream's running water. Khran-Av'ees had survived at least the lapsed night: lolling against the wall he kept coughing on occasion, but for everyone's relief breathed in a more even manner.

"Oy! Quits ye yer snorin', 'tis dem erst light," the bodyguard prompted, as the dawn had crept forth a little.

Rubbing at their eyes, the two other men grudgingly rose up to their haunches. Nobody had gotten but a twinkling's worth of sleep amid all the fuss. Additionally, Gho-Ni'ngobsch's roaring stomach quite much guaranteed a not-so-swift leave-taking.

"Bleedin' hells, it jus' wonnae shuts up, it wonts." He poked at his abs with a few fingers, beneath which the annoyed organ growled almost worse than Khran-Av'ees on a battlefield. "Ghaagh'urih, shoudlna ye sees if ye coul' finds summat inne yon weald? Woul' go mesel', but 'tis still a wee bit too damn murky fer me; ye has 'em better eyes, ye has. I'll brush up 'em fire a wee bit an' try'n get oor lord to drink up summat; he's still bloody burnin' up."

The morrow had advanced considerably when the elf returned from his journey, arms laden with various odds and ends. Judging by the mud-tracks down his front and the big, scaly animal with a broken neck swinging from the crook of his arm, he had been hunting with his bare hands. His breath vapored in the air, and his hollow-cheeked, square face bore a rather glum expression.

"I reckon dem ent gonna bes bonny tides fer flyin' this morn, or mebbe through 'em whole bleedin' daytide. 'Em buggerin' frost just migh' nay go away a' all. 'Ere." He lowered the load onto the cave floor, and unslung some heavy, knobbly branches -- suitable for clubs -- from his back. "Foun' dem dere, me dids. Since dem bloody maggot-scum filched our blades, an' ev'ryding. By 'em crappin' cloud-mhorghlhamasch o' Yl-maaghtd'har, erst me fine ole Vhimma gets broken, she does, den 'tis Tdhulischbhia. An' it wuz lord hissel' who gaves me 'em splennid lady, an' she wuz finer tha' any o' me erstwhile scimitars!"

"Ach, howe'er me misses me sweet ole Vghaekgrhaud..." Gho-Ni'ngobsch gazed wistfully into space. "Sharp as 'em teeth o' ghastly Vhe-dt'echinech, lurkin' deep in 'is watery halls. Curvy as 'em southlander concubines o' ole sly Lhiekghi'oichnj inne bonny ole paintings an' 'em heavin' bosom o' me poor, sweetie Ghermj'uuschtd o' Gha-binch'rhack. She be a fair lass, she wuz, aye..."

"Aye... cannae be a good cheer in tis woe an' loss. Mhrah... Belike, howe'er bes it wi' sir? Aught-"

"Nay, jus' as e'er. Gots 'im to drink a good deal more'n inne night-tides, me dids, but, well..."

The warrior pointed at Khran-Av'ees in his half-sitting position. A cold, wet rag had been placed over his brow. Just beneath, the eyelids flickered rapidly, as if spasming.

"'Tis as if he ents wholly inne bleedin' blacklands any more, though. A wee li'l bit m're awake, if ye kens whu' me means. But dem fever's bad, verily. We oughta ge' 'im sum more covers sumwhence, 'em bleedin' cloaks an' firs an' wossnames ents good enow, methinks."

Qwertyui crawled over from the other side of the now rather livelier fire, impaled some of the worts Ghaagh'urih had collected, and began roasting them over the flames.

"Eh-hum... if you more experienced campers do not mind me inquiring, but... How are we going to skin that... eeh... this fine specimen of game?"

"Ye wee bleedin' townsbugger i'yer lace an' sissyfrippery ents kennin' nought aboot bein' a pr'per man, ents ye? Huh?" Gho-Ni'ngobsch cast a glower at the scribe, and flicked the fingers of his scarred hand before the lowlander's nose. The nails were quite as horrible as those of Khran-Av'ees. "Dere ent nay slaves nor yer mommy 'ere who woul' chew 'em stringy bits fer ye, an' spoon-feed yer bleedin' milktoothed foodhole. If ye canna skin yer bleedin' food wi' yer ain hands inne bloody damn wild, me bids ye welcome ta starve, sissypants."

"Oy, donnae scares 'em li'l bugger too much. We all kens yer tales, we does, o' how ye wuz a castaway onne 'em nameless isles o'em eastern seas, an' hadta hunt wi' yer claws'n jaws only, an' how ye leapts upon dem rha-astd'jachotsch an' slit 'eir throats wi' yer bare nails," Ghaagh'urih laughed from his pile of branches where he was hefting and knocking at the wood.

"Hrrmh. Me reckons tis pansy li'l squirt woul' wet an' crap 'is li'l pants anew if me tole it e'en ane o' dem tales. He's better off wi' sum bleedin' nursery rhymes aboot dem happy wee fanged beetles goins to gather bonny flowers fer 'eir sick granny. Or be e'en dat too frightenin' fer yer weaklin' guts? Dem bonny flowers scares yeh?"

Qwertyui turned away his purpling face. Ayeaye, one day... Now, however, the options were sparse and he was forced to play along. The events of the worlds were rolling along a quirky route. He ne'er would have expected even one hundredth or what had come to pass during the lapsed hourtides, or the magnitude of powers still welling in the bloods of elder warriors... Erst of all, he had to rewrite his entire mental book about the lord, starting with blank sheets. By Dthg'aar's firehammer, he had believed he could effortlessly foresee that sordid brute's every whim and scheme! Had he not already grumbled about the unconventionality of Khran-Av'ees's moves in the recentmost tides? Bleeding hellpits, now this.

Stealthily, as the elves were brooding over whether to depart or remain in this measly shelter unto the thawing of the frost-tide, and furthermore dreading the rebellion's future movements, the Law of Action and some malnourished form of deus ex machina decided to kick in. Of course, the accuracy of this statement was somewhat debatable, since it had been shown erenow how these woods were practically swarming with bandits. How they managed to prosper amid all the co-existing and possibly rivaling gangs was a mystery. Or, it might have been that their whole career consisted of mugging one another in turn, so that the same loot regularly circulated through the hands of every woodsman.

Perchance they had special days when a certain highwayman was permitted to own some item, and kept strict calendar about the alternating ownerships. Not letting the current-day proprietor plunder you on the moment of ownership change would result into penalties, et cetera. If you lost or broke an item, you were obliged to acquire a new one and let it loose into the exchange. This might have been the sole reason why the bandits still bothered to harass the occasional travelers.

Then there was the question of funding any educational institutions residing in these woods and which taught the fine arts of waylaying to new generations of budding bandits. Perhaps the plunder acquired from travelers went into the salaries of guest lecturers and akin. Maybe famous highwaymen all over Rha-kan'Ocka journeyed hither to share the gems of wisdom and lore. If they did, most of their lessons had however severely gotten plonked down the toilet.

The sudden restlessness of the ghamyrluuschk awoke the elves to the presence of some uninvited company. As always, grinning heads started popping out of the bushes and beyond trees, pursuing the exact same oafish show-pattern Khran-Av'ees's men had beholden all too many a tide. Obviously a rumor about the slaughter and disappearance of scores of fellows-in-crime had not gotten round yet.

There was some variety to the clothing and the composition of the band, but it still contained the young, nobby leader with a feathered hat. This time he wore green and some kind of ludicrous stockings quite too large for him. They hung in lumpy rings around his skinny legs. His beard had been shaven into a wispy goatee, and he held a bow in one hand.

His companion included, among others, a thickset tall man brandishing a quarterstaff, and another spotty brat clad in scarlet and attempting to look intimidating with his notched scimitar he barely could lift. The previous was exactly of the classic archetype one might name 'Wee Willy' or 'Piddling Bob' in an attempt of overused humor not e'en monkeys in laughing gas would find amusing.

"What ho, me merry men? What be these rich scoundrels, thus intruding upon our woods of-" the leader began. But his simper, as should have been expected, melted off on the very instant Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch scrambled onto their feet.

It was truly amazing how these hinterland louts for aye managed to underestimate the opponent. Or, perchance from distance the two elves had appeared meeker and slighter, what with nursing a lame fellow and all. Now, hulking about seven and a half feet tall before the scanty crack of a cave, hefting at their clubs, the impression of wealthy greenhorn lordlings in distress had been washed away in a jiffy.

"Well, well. Whut does ye kens. Me reckons 'em wyrds an' fate-winds be onne our side fer once. Look'a 'em thick leathers'n furs o' dat fatso! Oughta do fine fer our lord inne 'is ill-bed," Gho-Ni'ngobsch chuckled throatily, an evil grin twisting at his scarred, lined face.

"Ha! An' dem gots sum arms! Me really likes 'em axe dat ane bleedin' squirt's tryin' ta wield, me does." Ghaagh'urih cracked his ping-pong-ball-sized knuckles. Without further ado, he dug out of his pockets a few of the heavy, half-burnt cakes he had fed the air-steed with, and flung one towards the leader. As it smashed into the youth's face with an audible crack, the duo charged.

A few minutes of screams and growls reigned over the usual silence of the waterside. Then, after an indeterminable time, the ghamyrluuschk spread its wings and left behind a trampled patch of reddened earth, where several cold, stiff, and naked corpses lay. The gnawed bones of Ghaagh'urih's game had been thrown pell-mell before the mouth of the grotto. A few pieces of blackened wood smoldered faintly beside them, and a lingering whiff of some strong liqueur wafted in the air.

***

Henceforth, the travel of Ghaagh'urih and his companions progressed quite less laboriously. Even if of suspicious quality, the elves had been able to rob nigh-on everything they had been craving for, excluding maps which were rare treasures these daytides anyhow. Following the road and Qwertyui's approximate calculations, they flew on, Lord Khran-Av'ees wrapped up tight into every scrap of fur and leather they could spare, and the wizard lolling tied and drugged up in the backmost saddle. Gha'ugonak was a dire game that made everyone's small hairs stand on end. Every time he made the tiniest of twitches or other signs of possibly waking up, they stuffed his mouth or nostrils with random pastes concocted from mead and whatever non-kiddie-friendly substances had been fished out of the bandits' pockets. Long moments were spent quarreling over the foe's fate, and such questions as "Cannae we jus' beheads 'em bleedin' bugger an' toss 'im overboard an' tells'm sir dat he snuffed it?" frequently echoed in the air. Yet in the end, they agreed that Khran-Av'ees's ensuing wrath would be too much to bear.

The warlord's situation remained quite much the same, even though he breathed in a somewhat easier manner. His eyes kept flickering beneath the lids, his body feverish and clammy. Ne'er he uttered so much as of a coherent word, only some indistinct slurs or growls, and he lay without proper consciousness. Both Ghaagh'urih and Gho-Ni'ngobsch, veterans of hundreds, perchance thousands of wars and survivors of an immeasurable amount of lesser injuries plus a quite a lorryload of more significant ones, had the basic craft of elven healing branded into their instincts. If they could nay discover the reason for their master's illness, the possibilities were narrowed down to plain waiting and journeying onwards. Mayhaps the Rha-bhughsch'Obp outpost would harbor a potioneer or e'en a minor wizard, even though both bared their fangs at the idea of yet more of those witchery-tricksters.

This whole aversion towards magic-users was however quite two-faced, as Khran-Av'ees himself sloshed deep in wizardry, and they ne'er blamed him for any kind of 'sacrilege'. Of course, it might have simply been the absence of staves and those floppy, pointy hats which marked a true trickster. Their lord was merely... well... aarh... wossname who fought with an honest scimitar. Mostly.

On occasion, the gang landed by a stream or some other waterhole, endeavoring to select sheltery resting places which the wind and frequent sleet would not reach. Not that they could avoid any of these whilst flying. What sense nevertheless be there in a calming-down break if you could not rub yourself warm and enjoy a rare moment when the gale did not force your eyes and nostrils to switch anew to the oozing mode?

Dark descended and dawn rose afresh, the wind wailed, the scenery below changed from moors to forests, from field patchworks to bare hills, and back again. By the twilight of the fourth daytide, Ghaagh'urih finally shouted over the rush of the air,

"Hoi, looks ye doon! Methinks me's seein' dem lights o' Rha-bhughsch'Obpjan Schot'durjlhinach, me is!"

The two other elves peered over the sides of the beast, and for the first time in a good while breathed with ease. The soldier outpost towered undemolished against the dark grounds, the lights placed on the barrack roofs twinkling as multiple squares when beholden from above.

---------------------------------

Hiid crossed her legs under the table, and stared gloomily into the tankard before. She was loitering around in one of the town's pubs. It was exactly the kind of shadowy, cramped room with smoke hanging low in the air where halflings might meet mysterious, hooded wanderers. Nobody had nonetheless yet strolled over to the table, and Enkev was not even positive she wished for any company. Today was one of those broody, introverted tides of hers when whispers felt too loud and there existed one person too much in a duo.

She had been released from the clamps of sickbed yesterday, after having sprawled two days without a single fainting or retching attack. The aftereffects of that damned itchytonker had persisted a little longer than Granny Ghirn had expected, though. And, uh, well...

Her visage transformed into a positive beetroot, as she so much as skimmed over the other issues.  Even now she felt that annoying shimmer creeping up the cheeks. Grumbling under her breath, she pushed her gaze down. What would people think, beholding her there and blushing at the plain, thin noughtness?

Namely, the nighttime adventures with Lhietd had gotten a wee bit... out of control. At least concerning her erstwhile plans of forcing him to sit calmly down on a block of ice and keep his slippery fingers twenty feet away. The- ah... erhm... Umh. So, that was what they meant by the phrase of elves having talented hands. Um. Well... eeh... if the case was so, Lhietd must have been simply from the genius end of the spectrum. Uh...

But, but... it was only dreaming! Not really real! There could not have been aught truly wrong with it, could there? Could there? The most appalling thing was that she... uf... well, had been anticipating the following 'meeting' last e'entide with an odd tingle in the pit of her stomach. She should, should not have felt that way, especially as that damned lecherous creep was merely toying with her, his oily words empty and repeated to perhaps tens of thousands of others erenow. Nought special was she, just a fleeting fancy amongst a million.

And yet, yet... Hiid buried her ashamed face into her hands. Auugh. It was no wonder he had thrilled so many a wench, if he verily be akin to that...

By the firehammer of Dthg'aar and other real-mythological impossibilities... however long was this going to drag on? Weeks? Months? Egads. She had to, had to find the courage somewhence in order to object... to... eh... how?

Then there were these little tokens he somehow managed to deliver through the planes of dream and wossname magyckal thyng. She should have been mortified over wearing one of those pinned to the side of her headscarf, but, but... it had somehow been so endearing, and... eeeh...

This just showed how scantly she kenned about the arts of flirting and courting. Most of her previous acquaintances had been complete jerks or downright push-offs. Now that she had randomly stumbled upon the first example of who was gentle, chivalrous, and droolably handsome -- indeed, she had to admit this embarrassing particular to herself -- all at the same time, it had to be a FIRKING 8-FOOT-TALL DEAD FANTASY CREATURE WITH BLEEDIN' DORKY POINTY EARS AND THOUSANDS OF PREVIOUS GIRLS? Every time this notion popped to the surface of her mind, her reason went into a capslocking rage that utilized the largest fonts available.

The traffic had been quite animated in this pub the very e'entide. The front door kept swiveling and creaking to and fro every other second. Hence the other drinkers and a few latecomers munching on postponed dinners for once preferred to concentrate on their own rumormongring and cackling at their corny jokes, rather than goggling at every novel customer. When the entrance was kicked open once more, Enkev would not have taken another glance at the incomer, had he not proceeded to walk so oddly.

It was, well... as if the person had attempted strutting on angrily whilst still leaning on a heavy crutch and wincing on every other step. It also seemed he was sporting several cracked ribs and yet endeavored to ignore this rather significant discomfort. Amid all the greenish-brown pipesmoke it took a few seconds to distinguish the basic features of practically anyone present.

Wait a moment... was that... Aaschgh'rd? At least he usually wore an equal kind of red kilt and a long, dark-purple cloak with the crest of his house embroidered to the back. Now, though, everything appeared to hang in tatters on him, and a hood was thrown over his head. Eeh... it could not be. Besides, was he not supposed to be somewhere far-off with G'Uhageid himself and a smattering of other mages?

The figure limped over to the counter, and ordered something with its back against her. The landlord's face showed concerned astonishment, but the other man waved his words away with an irritated hand. Just give me my bleedin' drink and shuddup, the gesture told all too clearly.

Next, the elf turned, and obviously inadvertently took a course towards the shady corner where Hiid sat. There and then, his face swam into a better light, and the girl could only gawk at him in slight horror. He halted his hobbling for a moment, and pushed back the hood, as it was rather hot inside compared to the present weather.

It was Aaschgh'rd, alright, but terribly changed. He had lost most of his hair, probably due to some outbreak of fire, as the side of his face showed burnmarks. Bruises and bandaged injuries littered just about every inch of his visible skin. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, as if due to lengthy crying and sleeplessness. Every limb was present, but the hand holding the steaming cup was missing two fingers.

Wh... what could have occurred? Was not this elf supposed to be one of the better warrior-wizards amongst G'Uhageid's first-generation heirs? Had they suffered a loss in some significant battle, so that- Besides, why was he alone? If this wee little crush of hers was not brooding over something, he usually cackled raucously with his younger brother Ghoschkg, and those two were rarely seen sans each other's company. The least of all when it came to having a pint.

There and then, their eyes met, quite as unintentionally as had been the case of his direction. She instantly felt the appalling redness begin its crawling up her neck. However, the man answered with neither a smile nor a nod. His tearstained face twisted into a disgusted rictus of a snarl, which showed the gaps of several, recently lost teeth.

"YOU! Was it you who brought this peril upon us?" his growling boom of a voice lashed out, every syllable coated with fury, "You went fooling about with Khalm'anch Vghaekg in their sacred domains, and the beast in hiding drank your life-forces through the rifts between the spheres of the worlds. Thus, what can it be but your damned fault that the shadow of the Bane was unleashed upon the earth anew-"

Aghast, eyes flung wide open, Hiid had recoiled back in her seat, not understanding a word of Aaschgh'rd's raving. Spit was welling out of his mouth, and the tankard had broken within the grip of his tightening, white-knuckled fist. Men all about the room were now rising up from their seats, some advancing on the enraged princeling.

"YOU BROUGHT IT OUT AND UPON US, DID YOU NOT, YOU LITTLE DEFORMED IMP OF-"

Aaschgh'rd's half-insane yell was smothered under the abrupt tolling of a nearby bell, one of those heavy ones set in small towers all across the valley. Almost instantly, a second added its strokes to a dull, sepulchral note or repeating bonnngs and gonnngs. Then a third and a fourth, a fifth... rapidly, increasing in volume, the noise spread out through the town, the gloomy music which everyone recognized as the herald of some great misfortune.