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Mon Jun 21 02:55:29 CDT 2004
raised, but far too late to do aught but make useless noise.
End part 82
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It was still well before dawn when they finally saw the watchtower. Lord Avery pulled his coat closer over his shoulders as he peered out through the sparse trees at the fourty-foot tall spire of wood. It overtopped the trees to the north and the south, as they had been routinely cut down to keep the line of sight clear, but the trees to the east and west stood considerably taller. The roof of the tower was hooded and so the snow did not collect in the eaves to weigh it down. There was a ladder from the cupola to the ground though it was slick with ice, making a climb almost impossible to manage without something to either break the ice free, or dig into it.<BR>
<BR>
Although the rim of the cupola was too high for the squirrel to peer into he could see the group of Lutins that had established a ramshackle camp at the base of the tower. Bellicose laughter rang about their slack canvas tents as they shared a bawdy tale and drank heartily. It was clear that the guard at the base of the tower was only supposed to defend it long enough for the Lutins waiting in the cupola to light the signal fire. Given that the lands North of the Keep had not been subjugated this time, he had to wonder why the Lutins were not taking their job as seriously as they ought.<BR>
<BR>
Berchem was at his side, and behind him was a human woman wrapped in tight furs. Naomi was the Captain of Lord Barnhardt's corps of archers, but so far had failed to convince Lord Avery of her merit. She had insisted that she come forward through the trees to peer at their quarry as well, though the squirrel was only really interested in Berchem's opinion. The rest of their men waited back in the trees several ells, keeping as quiet and as still as they could. The forest this close to Metamor was not as dense as the Lord of the Glen would have liked, but they would have to do.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
"Well?" he asked softly as he slipped back behind the narrow trunk. It was oak and, gnarled as it was, it hid them decently enough, despite the lack of leaves and piles of snow clustering the branches.<BR>
<BR>
Naomi shrugged. "The overhang makes it difficult to fire arrows into the cupola, but I think that it can be done."<BR>
<BR>
Lord Avery waited for the skunk to speak, hoping he kept his face passive. Her manor was hardly unappetizing, but there did come a bit of the natural superiority that he felt was in the blood of all that lived on Barnhardt's lands. It was as if they were perpetually looking down their noses at he and his less urbane people.<BR>
<BR>
So it was with some regret that he found Berchem nodding in agreement with Naomi's analysis. "It is possible to shoot arrows in there, but it will not be easy. Of course, even managing to get arrows in there will do us no good if we don't hit the Lutins and kill them quickly."<BR>
<BR>
"We could tip our arrows with poison," Naomi suggested drily. "Even a scratch would be fatal then."<BR>
<BR>
Lord Avery shook his head; with a bit of satisfaction he had to confess. "Unless it will kill them instantly, it is no good. It only takes a few moments to light the signal fire. With the blizzard past, it will be seen at Metamor easily."<BR>
<BR>
Naomi smiled at him then, in a way that he felt most unfair. "Our poison works very fast. If they are even scratched, they will not live long enough to realize it."<BR>
<BR>
"Magical?" Berchem asked, his brow furrowing in some surprise.<BR>
<BR>
"In a way," she turned her head to one side in a most feminine fashion. Considering that Naomi had to have been a man when she was born, the gesture was rather startling. "One of Barnhardt's servants become a snake after the curses struck, a very venomous snake in fact. He supplies us with his venom every month or so. We brought some with us of course. I'm not sure if it will be enough to go around to all the archers."<BR>
<BR>
"There is one other thing," Berchem added, turning to face Lord Avery again. "We'll need to know how many Lutins are in that tower, and where approximately they are. We can't climb these trees too much. They aren't big enough to keep us hidden."<BR>
<BR>
Lord Avery patted the trunk with one paw. "I've noticed that myself. I was an archer once after all." He left it unsaid that Berchem was far better than he'd ever been. "We have three birds now, it will not be difficult to find out where the Lutins lay. I'll have the infantry attack the camp once our archers have launched their first volley. That should be more than enough to take the tower."<BR>
<BR>
Berchem nodded his ascent at that, before turning to Naomi. "Just how much of that poison do you have?"<BR>
<BR>
Naomi rubbed her palms together, her breath causing puffs of steam to rise in the air. "If we split our supplies in half, we'd have enough to lightly poison at least one arrow for every archer."<BR>
<BR>
"We don't need all of our archers for this," Avery countered, thumbing his jacket with one paw. "I think we should split into three groups of fifteen each. Naomi, you take your thirty archers, divide them in half, and move to flank the tower. Berchem, you take fifteen of our men and move between the tower and Metamor. That way no stray arrow is likely to come down on any of our own men. I'll instruct the infantryman not to attack until after one full volley has been loosed. Only the first volley is to be poisoned. The last thing we need is for one of our own to be struck by a poisoned arrow."<BR>
<BR>
The two nodded at that, then the skunk turned to the lanky girl and spoke in a cool whisper, "I'll pick my men, then I'll confer with you about the poison."<BR>
<BR>
Naomi favoured him a slight grin, though through the cloth pulled tightly about her it was hard to say whether that grin ever left her face. "I'll have it ready. Five minutes say?"<BR>
<BR>
"Five minutes," Berchem agreed. He then turned his sharp mephit features towards the squirrel. "We can be in position in another five to ten minutes after we have the poison."<BR>
<BR>
"Then the attack comes in twenty. I will see to the infantry. May all the gods watch over you," Avery spoke the benediction firmly, though he had to suppress a chuckle when he saw Naomi make the sign of the Patildor tree across her chest. It highlighted yet one more reason why relations were chilly between Avery and Barnhardt; the fact that they shared different faiths. <BR>
<BR>
As the two archers moved on off back into the trees and towards the rest of their men who were waiting in the woods, watchful and vigilant, Lord Brian Avery muttered beneath his breath, "Thank you Artela, for Nasoj, for his ambition, which has brought us foolish mortals together in common cause. Help us find victory over him here this day, so that he may no longer spoil your beautiful land."<BR>
<BR>
His own prayer spoken, the Lord of the Glen followed after the archers, with only one last glance over his shoulder at the dark tower standing against the silhouette of the midnight mountains. In thirty minutes time he intended to stand beneath it instead of hide from it.<BR>
<BR>
>>>><BR>
<BR>
12/28 - 5:30am<BR>
<BR>
Skulking through the shadows beneath the leafless limbs overhead, Lord Avery and Alldis roved from group to group of infantry to see to it that they understood the plans exactly. There were no sentries lurking about the Lutin camp as, aside from the ones waiting in the watchtower above, they were contenting themselves to drinking and sleeping. Even so the Glenners were careful, lest the Lutin guards were not as inebriated as their bawdy song made them appear.<BR>
<BR>
At any other time than this Lord Avery would have marvelled at how few of Barnhardt's soldiers appeared to care that they were being led by a man who did not get along too well with their lord. Yet Lutins were running amuck in their land, in their home. Nothing else could have brought them together like this. Even so, seeing them be only too happy to help gave Brian a bit of a charge that was not always present.<BR>
<BR>
Alldis felt that thrill as well, like the warm rays of the first summer sun in the Glen filling every bone in his body. After they had finished going over the plans with the second group of infantry stationed before Naomi's archers, taking only a minute to do so, they both had shared that same grin, knowing exactly how the other felt. This was a common experience in the Glen, for they all knew each other, most of them very well, and nobody wished life would be any different.<BR>
<BR>
The Lutin guards continued in their off-key singing, straining cultured ears with their waspish tones. The squirrel watched them a few moments more as they sauntered around the stoutly built base of the tower before moving on through the underbrush, following after the heavily garbed deer. Alldis stayed low as well, his antlers poking out some, but not so much. With the darkness as close about them as it was they appeared nothing so much as another bush waiting for the Spring to return. <BR>
<BR>
So they did not feel any great apprehension when they finally reached Angus's infantry, arrayed in several packs before the archers, who were fingering the strings of their bows. Why should they, Avery reasoned, when they had never been in any danger from these sorry Lutins in the first place? It would hardly be any work to dispatch the ragtag force on the ground. The real test of this venture would be to the skill of the archers, and to the lethality of the poison Naomi had supplied them.<BR>
<BR>
Angus was fingering the pommel of his great sword, rubbing the new leather, which was already creased with moisture. His dark charcoal eyes were grim, set towards the baleful tower that was dimly visible through the cluster of branches before them. Garigan and the two friends of Matthias were arranged behind him while the two northerners, still clad in their furs, stood amongst the ranks of the Glenners. Avery was not certain that he completely trusted those two, Andrig and Gaerwog, but so far they had proven true and had delivered a great enemy into their paws. The squirrel would take great delight in seeing how the curse took Calephas before they executed him.<BR>
<BR>
The badger turned his gaze towards the two of them, Alldis nodding fiercely back even as he took his place before one of the contingents of troops. Avery leaned in close to the badger and patted him on the shoulder with one paw, nodding his head as well as he and favoured him with a grin. He turned that to the men standing at the badger's broad side and on down the line of his people. They each smiled back in return, clutching blades and staves, eager to strike back at their oppressor. <BR>
<BR>
Finally his eyes set hold of Burris, who was bobbing his head up and down as he walked over to the squirrel. The woodpecker's feathers, once bright red, had been dashed with soot to darken them because he would be flying against a sky rippling with clouds and ashen with their former tempest. With a single nod of his head Avery gave the signal for the wood mage to transform himself into the form of a small bird. A great deal of the soot cascaded off of the mage in that instant but his feathers remained black. With a flutter of those darkened wings, he rose into the sky, the first signal in the fight to take back the watchtower.<BR>
<BR>
>>>><BR>
<BR>
Berchem watched the dark shape disappear into the murky blackness above then cast his eyes once again to the tower in the distance. His white streaked tail curled about the thick trunk of the tree he was perched in while His foot paws dug into the snowy branch. His archers were arrayed among the branches a good twenty feet from the ground, which was as high as they dare climb without exposing themselves or stressing snow-laden limbs. The trees in this portion of the wood were not as strong or as tall as those in the Glen, rendering their usual tactics unfeasible. <BR>
<BR>
Even so, as the skunk peered across the gulf to the cupola which was silhouetted in reds and oranges by the campfires below, he tried to see past that overhang and spot any of the Lutins that were supposedly stationed up there. At his present height he knew that he would have little difficulty in sailing an arrow past the eaves and inside the cupola. Whether he could do so with any accuracy was his concern. Even if he could climb another ten feet higher he knew that he would not miss, but the trees were not steady enough to support his weight without swaying or rustling at that height.<BR>
<BR>
He rotated the arrow shaft between his fingers and claws idly. Berchem had it pointed downward so that the thick, viscid poison would not run down the shaft. As there was nobody beneath them he was not worried about it dripping slightly that way. The poison was thick enough that it did not run easily, but he had to wonder, given how long they had had to wait since applying it to the arrowheads, if there would be enough left on it for the poison to kill instantly as Naomi had claimed.<BR>
<BR>
It only took a moment before he saw Burris's small form descending once more through the trees. Bringing the arrow shaft to his muzzle Berchem kissed it softly, and then placed the notch against the string of his cherrywood bow. The woodpecker sailed down toward the archers with deeptive silence, landing an arm's length from Berchem as he began to shift into his morphic form, talons gripping the branch next to the skunk tightly.<BR>
<BR>
The branch did begin to buckle slightly, prompting Burris to stop his shift at a median form just large enough for him to speak softly. He turned to the head archer and whispered, "There are four Lutins in the cupola. Three are in the far left corner playing some game, huddled close together. The fourth is circling the other two sides, close to the edge. His shadow should be visible."<BR>
<BR>
Berchem nodded and then glanced back at the cupola. Sure enough there was a slight darkening in the wall facing him, moving slowly across. Turning to his right he spoke to the seven men arrayed there. "Aim for the dark shape moving along the wall facing us." After they nodded and notched their arrows, he turned to the left and added, "Aim for the far left corner. Shoot when I shoot."<BR>
<BR>
The other seven nodded then, tensing their muscles as Berchem pulled the bowstring close to his ear, his eye always on the point before him as he stretched his body out. The quiet creak of eight bows being drawn whispered into the quiet, unheard by the raucous revelry of the Lutins not so very far away. His eyes pushed the tree branches interposing themselves out of view and considered only that ghastly cupola, gleaming as if it had just risen from some unnameable abyss. The tip of his arrow gleamed violet from the poison, dribbling slowly around the edge of the shaft past the metal tip. And there, in the shadows, he could see that dark formless blackness moving once more along the side.<BR>
<BR>
Berchem took his eyes from the solitary Lutin and focused instead on that far left corner. He would have to aim his arrow so that it would just pass over the edge of the hut the cupola was placed atop of. It would be a difficult shot, but it was better that eight tried for it at least, for it would be even harder for the other two groups to manage. He almost laughed to himself as he pondered how many arrows would be sticking out of that sentry in a few more seconds. Then, the moment of whimsy past, he turned his entire attention to the subtle straightening he needed for his bow, the string nearly humming in his ear as he held it taut. <BR>
<BR>
And then, satisfied, he released. The arrow shot forth with an audible twang, sailing through the darkness, and slipped effortlessly beneath the cupola. A strangled cry drifted from the shadowed watchtower as a swarm of arrows joined the first. Berchem watched for a moment as a good number struck the cupola or hammered into the wood. Some bounced off to sail ineffectually down to the ground. The lion's share flew into the hut, however, finding some target to claim its own.<BR>
<BR>
Berchem danced on his toes, cold from the snow, and began to climb higher up the tree, slinging his bow over his shoulder in one swift motion. The string was still vibrating when it landed against the wool of his tunic, humming softly with a balefully languorous note. Scrambling, pushing the snow aside, no longer caring for the racket he raised, he scaled along the shaking tree's bark, scratching and clawing at it to find just the grip he wanted.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Turning, he peered into the dark shrouded cupola as he worked, intent on seeing what good they had wrought. A solitary spark filled the hut, then went out again. With a shudder he realized that at least one Lutin was still alive and was trying in their last moment to light the signal fire. Whether they had escaped all harm or the poison had not been s effective as Naomi claimed he could not guess, nor did he care. Only he had the vantage to silence this vestige of the Lutin defence.<BR>
<BR>
Drawing a second arrow, he put it to the nock and drew it tightly against his ear, the fur there running along the string, draping it in the powder he'd used to camouflage himself. Another spark filled his vision; like the burning of the sun, it was all that he could see. Berchem snarled beneath his breath, pointing his arrow as best he could, noting where the Lutin had to be, and loosed. A third spark came to life, then flew backwards and was extinguished. A choked cry filled the air from that cupola briefly, then silence.<BR>
<BR>
>From the watch tower, at least. On the ground below the alarm had been raised, but far too late to do aught but make useless noise.<BR>
<BR>
End part 82</FONT></HTML>
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