[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (49 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias



"We can't hold them off much longer!" Eivind shouted over the clangor 
as he aimed his rapidly diminishing supply of arrows. Calephas's 
soldiers had closed around them on three sides, forcing them back 
toward the breach in the barricade where Gmork's two pups were busy 
burning to ash anyone who came within view. Their number had been cut 
by a third in the few minutes it had been since Harald had been 
struck senseless by Gmork's spells. If something didn't change soon 
none of them would survive.

Jarl took an axe from one of the fallen tundra men and joined the 
fray, pressing against the soldiers who hemmed them in from behind. 
Ture and Bergen were only a few few away hewing at the wall of 
shields and spears that jabbed and forced them to fall back step by 
step. Around their legs the dogs snarled and snapped where they 
could, occasionally managing to drag one of the soldiers out of line 
where he was quickly dispatched by half-a-dozen slavering jaws. The 
tundra men and Gerhard's horsemen milled about in the middle trying 
to form into a group to strike back without making themselves into a 
target for the pups.

After their initial volleys, the pups had contented themselves to 
waiting by the breach and picking off any who came too close. They 
seemed to prefer to let Calephas's soldiers bear the brunt of the 
battle; and clearly to bleed as much as possible for their victory. 
At the very least it meant that Jarl and the others in the Resistance 
were still alive. But Jarl couldn't see anyway that it would last for 
more than another few minutes of tense fighting.

He chanced a glance at the two birds in the sky. The gull and puffin 
were circling over a the building immediately to their west and 
squawking at them. Jarl pondered what the insufferable Keepers were 
doing and whether or not they had just gone mad, when it dawned on 
him what they must really be doing.

"Gerhard," he shouted and pointed. "Follow them!"

Gerhard, ducked an arrow and pressed his free hand on his horse's 
neck before turning and shouting the same at Thuring and the other 
three tundra men who fought on the western flank. Thuring nodded his 
head, and, with arm bandaged, waded in more deeply with his broad 
double-bladed axe. The veritable giant of a man immediately cleaved 
one soldier's skull, while the others turned their spears to keep him 
from breaking their line.

Jarl wanted to watch, but he had to keep the soldiers on their 
eastern flank from pressing them back toward the barricade. He ducked 
under a swing, and then lopped off the end of a speartip, before 
thrusting his knife toward the nearest soldier with his other hand. 
His blade skittered off the edge of the armor, and he had to dance 
back before the next thrust skewered him like a fish.

Behind him and the clopping and stomping of the horses he heard 
Thuring bellow in pain. He chanced a glance back and saw the man had 
a spear thrust through his side drenched in blood and rising up out 
of his shoulder. Jarl gasped even as the wounded tundra man swept the 
double bladed axe with his uninjured arm. He knocked aside another 
soldier who quickly fell beneath a Resistance axe before kicking the 
one who'd impaled him squarely in the groin. Even through the metal, 
the man cried in agony and dropped his weapons. Thuring smacked him 
in the head with the butt of the spear, and shoved him aside.

A sword thrust made Jarl duck to his right and he danced back another 
few paces behind Eivind who had just run out of arrows. The 
Fjellvidden hunter rushed back beside him, before shouting, "Bergen! 
Ture! Look out!"

The tanner immediately ran back several steps, but Bergen's foot 
caught on the limp body of one of the dogs. He overbalanced and swung 
his arms to steady himself. The soldiers closing in hewed him through 
the middle before he could regain his footing. Bergen spat blood as 
he tried to beat the soldier who'd killed him over the head with his 
bow. Eivind's face purpled with rage, "No!" But it was already too 
late. A second more and Bergen was stomped underfoot as the soldiers 
closed the gap.

"This way!" Gerhard shouted, as the horses all turned toward the 
west. Jarl grabbed Eivind by the arm and dragged him back from his 
dead friend while Ture swept his sword back and forth to keep the 
soldiers from closing too quickly. At the eastern line Thuring swept 
his great axe in broad arcs from left to right, driving the soldiers 
to either side. Those caught between the Resistance and the barricade 
wall screamed in horror as they realized they were trapped. Not a one 
of them survived.

The two birds cawed in delight as Gerhard and the others started to 
pour into the opening. Thuring kept Calephas's troops from advancing 
from the north, until another soldier managed to drive a second spear 
through his upper chest. Thuring roared with what air he had left and 
threw himself body spread wide on the dozen closest men. They 
clattered under his weight and collapsed, struggling to get back up. 
The mighty warrior's body pinned them down long enough for Jarl, 
Ture, Eivind, all the horsemen and tundra men and their dogs to flee 
between the houses at the west end of the city.

Jarl glanced back one last time at the frightening man of the icy 
steppe and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Thuring and Bergen had 
died like men of Arabarb.


Quoddy and Machias felt horror at seeing so many of their new friends 
fall to Calephas's soldiers while they could do nothing but fly 
overhead and watch. Machias cawed in shock when Thuring was pierced 
both times, and then looked ready to swoop down and beat the soldiers 
over the head with his wings when at last the great man of the north 
gave his last breath to carve a path for his countrymen.

But Quoddy shouted, "I need you, little brother!" That was all it 
took to guide the puffin back to flying across the homes and 
businesses bottled up from fear of the fighting, but mostly from fear 
of the soldiers and of the pups. Already two homes had begun to 
collapse from the shattering concussion of the spells the two pups 
had launched, not to mention the rain of incinerating fire that Gmork 
lobbed all the way from the castle.

What surprised Quoddy was that both of those homes had been struck in 
the first few minutes of the fighting. Since then, the pups had 
restrained themselves to only those they could directly see, and 
Gmork had carefully avoided striking anything other than the 
Resistance with his spells. Why would he do that? It couldn't be that 
he truly cared about the people, not when he'd so casually had 
Strom's innards chewed free in order to break Lindsey's will. So why 
spare them?

Regardless of the reason, it gave them something to exploit. After 
breaking through the western flank, the Resistance had an almost 
completely clear race to the city gates where they could flee back 
into the woods; there they would have the advantage over the 
regimented soldiers. But first they had to get there and that meant 
navigating the narrow corridors between the homes. To step into the 
street was to risk incineration by Gmork.

"This way," Quoddy called back. Gerhard led them forward, still 
quivering Harald lain across his steed's rump. The other surviving 
Resistance members followed him, moving as quickly as they dared, 
while the dozen living dogs weaved through their feet and hooves. 
They had to keep low enough that they couldn't see the castle, which 
meant that Machias flew ahead to make sure the path they choose 
actually led somewhere.

The puffin was flying back and forth at the end of the alley checking 
for dead ends when Quoddy flew forward to join him. The soldiers were 
trapped behind them and it would take at least a minute before they 
could return to the main road and try to block their escape. If they 
were lucky they just might make it.

And that's when Quoddy noticed that the two pups had dashed back out 
into the meadows south of Fjellvidden. From there they could easily 
see them both. He beat his wings harder and squawked, "Machias, watch out!"

The puffin banked over the gamboled roof toward him just as an arc of 
brilliant blue light erupted from one of the pup's paws.

----------

Gmork's eldest was able to keep the alchemist from dousing him with 
the foul smelling powder by using a simple wind spell, but it did 
nothing to stop the Resistance and their Lutin allies from lobbing 
axes and knives at him. And so he hulked behind the door frame, 
showing his face for brief moments to launch fiery volleys toward the 
irritating natives then hiding himself again before they could skewer 
him with a well-thrown blade.

He'd managed to count eight humans in this band, which meant there 
was at least one more loose in the castle. The eldest liked listening 
to his father's pets, and even when he rested he allowed their sweet 
words to percolate in his ears. Those nine in the forest must have 
sneaked in just after they'd left the Listening room. Ill-timing that 
that they could not afford.

But once either his brother or his father arrived, these few 
degenerates would be easily dispatched. They had nowhere to go and 
while they had a gluttonous supply of arms, they could do nothing with them.

He watched in amusement as one of the jars exploded just outside the 
doorway. The yellow powder and the smoldering white particles mixed 
in smeared across the floor before being grabbed by the wind spell 
and thrust back inside the armory. He could hear one of them gagging 
in horror at the stench and he bark a laughed. That was the third 
time now they'd attempted to get their little bottles past his wind 
spell, but that spell was an easy thing to expand and contract like 
an old spring.

His ears turned when he heard the sound of feet running toward him 
from down the hall. He readied another spell, but a moment later he 
saw who it was and knew there was no need. The older apprentices 
they'd captured at the tanners dashed as fast as they could, and 
their faces broke into almost euphoric delight when they saw him.

"Your brother told us to come help you fight the Resistance," the 
blond-haired one said with breathless anticipation as they came to a 
stop just outside of view from the armory door. He beckoned them 
closer, and gestured to the left side of the hall with his claws.

"Very good of him. What of Calephas?"

"Your brother is chasing him and the tiger," the black-haired one 
replied after catching his breath. "What can we do?"

Gmork's eldest gestured to the armory door with his thumb claw. "The 
Resistance is in there. Go before me and block any weapons they might 
throw. I will burn them to the ground and then there will be no more 
Resistance or treacherous Lutins in all of Arabarb." It was an 
exaggeration, but it would make them even more eager to cast their 
lives away knowing that they did it for Gmork.

And it did. The eyes of the two young men brightened eagerly and they 
moved into the open doorway with their arms outstretched. The eldest 
followed them, grinning so as to reveal his fangs, flaming bolts 
filling his paws. The Resistance lifted their weapons, but gasped 
when they saw who it was. They took another step inside, the wind 
howling around them in delicious triumph.

----------

Pharcellus's still felt sore all over by the time the six Lutins 
marched him into their camp at the northern end of the eastern 
bridge. A road continuing north through rolling hills coated with 
pine and fir was now lined with numerous little huts of animals 
skins, wood, and bone. The nearest trees had been chopped clean of 
all their lower branches, but he noted that only the trees closest to 
the bridge had actually been chopped down. Grim looking hunters 
lurked around the center of the camp which featured a trio of fires, 
including one where a deer was roasting.

In the distance they could all hear the sounds of battle in the city 
and while they couldn't see anything past the castle, the turn in the 
river, and the declivity on the southern bank, many of the warriors 
were clustered along the bank trying to get a look at the fight. 
Pharcellus wondered just what was happening but the sounds were too 
indistinct to make clear. He thought he heard the sound of his 
friends the sea birds squawking, but that could have just been his 
hopeful nature getting the better of him.

One of the Luitins jabbed him behind the knee with the sharp end of 
the spear. He winced and buckled forward on his knees. "You tell us 
what you do in woods," he said with a raucous, dirty laugh. "We cook 
you like deer if you don't."

Three of the guards who'd brought began rubbing their tummies and 
licking their long tusks, long ears twitching as their evil yellow 
eyes looked him up and down. Some of the hunters and warriors looked 
up from their tasks to watch them, but otherwise paid them no mind. 
Pharcellus looked at them very carefully for any signs of children 
but saw none.

"I was trying to get back here to save my friends," Pharcellus 
replied. "They are being held captive by Baron Calephas and Gmork. 
Would you like to help me?"

The Lutins laughed and he felt the wooden end of the spear jab into 
his back. He fell to his hands and smiled even as the leader of the 
little scouting band mocked him again. "Stupid man. At least you have 
good muscle. Make vittles out of you."

"Cooking?" Pharcellus said with an even wider grin with sharpening 
teeth. "I'll provide the fire."

The Lutins continued laughing for a few seconds more. Then they 
started screaming.


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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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