Roar, page 13
Naturally that provoked another round of arguments among the camp as everyone had a different opinion. But Camille didn’t care what people thought as she sat there and munched on an apple. She knew she was right. It was the only thing that made sense – even if it was supposed to be impossible. The Seven Sisters themselves would tell them that. Spells and enchantments were the province of people. Airia herself, the Sister of the Skies, had brought the fire of magic to the world and laid it upon certain persons she had thought were worthy. She had not laid it upon the creatures of the world. But in this case the gods – or their priests – were wrong. She was sure of it – mostly.
“You really think he set us free?” Elspeth asked her quietly as the others continued their argument. She was calmer now. She had come back to the camp after the battle, pale faced and half dressed, mumbling about a great brown lion in the stream.
Camille shrugged helplessly. She knew it even if she couldn’t prove it. But it was the only explanation she could think of that made sense, and she said as much. And she also reminded the woman that the lion hadn't attacked her – despite the fact that she was probably a perfect snack for it.
“Then that's a riddle and a half.” Elspeth turned away from her to stare at the others as they continued.
Riddle! The word sparked an old memory. Something her mother had once told her when she was but a child. Actually it was a story. A story that made as much or as little sense as everything else that was being thrown around the camp. And while the others continued to debate she thought back on the tale. Then, once she had gathered all of the threads of her memories together, she raised her voice to the group to share the tale with them.
“My mother told me stories at bedtime when I was a child of a magical lion beast. Part man, part wizard, part lion and all riddle. The sphinx.”
“You think it's the sphinx?” Nerod turned to face her, his face screwed up in disbelief. “The sphinx is a myth.”
He shouldn't have said that. Because the instant he did, other voices burst into life and the entire camp burst into argument once more. And this time everyone had an opinion. And every opinion seemed to differ. Some agreed that the ancient beast was no more than a myth. Others that it was real. Some claimed that it was a single creature. Others that there had been an ancient race of them. A few said that the sphinx had been lions that had walked as men. Others that they had been men with the heads of lions. Some said they had wings. It seemed that there were as many versions of the ancient tale as there were people present. And that was a lot of stories.
But even as they argued amongst themselves; some agreeing with her, some disagreeing, Camille kept thinking to herself – what else could the beast be?
What it was though, was less important than the question of why it was helping them. Why had it broken them out of their cells? And why was it defying the King? Because if the beast had any ability to think at all, it had to know the Eternal King was going to be angry. And no magical lion was going to survive long against the wrath of the King.
And then another piece of the story came back to her which shed some light on the beast’s actions. The sphinx was supposed to be a guardian. It – or they – guarded the High Temple of Artemis, the one true Goddess of the hamadryads and avaryads. Maybe the neryads too. And a whole bunch of hamadryads had been imprisoned by the Eternal King. Perhaps the priests had sent a guardian to free their people? If they had though, the avaryads clearly hadn't known anything about it. Neither for that matter had the hamadryads.
Could the priests do that? Did they have a guardian sphinx they could simply send out to protect their people when they needed to? It seemed unlikely and she didn't mention it to the others. Everything she'd said so far had just led to arguments. But it was something to think about while the rest argued.
Chapter Fourteen
They thought he was the sphinx! Thorm found himself both amused and shocked by the idea as he listened to the escaped prisoners talking. For some reason it was an idea that all the escapees had been talking about ever since the avaryads had attacked him. In fact it had become their main subject of conversation for days.
He knew the stories of the ancient creature of course. Everyone had been told them as children. But he had never heard them being spoken about as if they might be real. That was pure muck spouting nonsense!
But he supposed it made as much sense as a wizard lion. And at least they were talking about him. Asking questions. Coming up with answers. And maybe some of them might be useful. Certainly they were fresh ideas, when he had nothing new himself.
Nothing but fresh scars that was. After his battle with the avaryads he had had to face down yet another party of troll hunters and had taken some more scratches. A lot more bumps and bruises too. Trolls were nasty fighters! It seemed that the Eternal King was determined to kill these escapees. Why? Was it simply that his pride had been wounded by the escape? Thorm wasn't sure. He did know though that he was getting tired of the battles. It was over a week now and he had fought three groups of them. He'd been shot, scratched and had taken some nasty blows. How many more would he have to face?
On the positive side thought, the prisoners were getting stronger as their health improved. They were covering more ground through the forest every day. Already this morning they'd managed to push their way through a league of the tangled forest and then another league across the open ground. And thanks to him fighting the troll hunters, they now had a growing collection of weapons with which to defend themselves. A hundred people, some of them armed with muskets, and a few more with swords, bows and spears – they would not as easy a target as they had once been.
That was fortunate since they’d just left the forest and were now in open grasslands as they continued on their journey south. These were empty lands save for the wild oxen and deer. It was good land for hunting food, but bad for hiding from pursuers. Here they could be spotted from a fair distance and chased down. Especially if their pursuers had horses. But even if they didn't, trolls were fast out in the open. They had an awkward gallop with their short legs and long arms, but it was still a gallop. And as their defender Thorm was not a good runner. He was quick over short distances. But lion or sphinx he was not built to run longer ones.
There was another problem. As near as he could tell they were somewhere between two cities, Riverton and Timberfell, the two most southern cities of the Volden Plains. He had no idea how far from either one they were. The Eternal King by now had to know by now in which direction they were travelling. South to Erisen. All he had to do was send word – be it by riders or pigeons – and he could have a thousand soldiers from each city out and patrolling these lands in very short order. Soldiers with trolls and dogs, and on horseback! Thorm doubted they would make it to the Southern Wilds without such an encounter. Unless of course the luck of the gods was with them.
Thorm also didn't like being out in the open. His spell of chameleon was still serving him well. Well enough that he could still manage to creep up on the party even during the day and listen to their conversations – as long as the avaryads weren't around. But he still felt exposed. It was why he was still keeping a weather eye on the distant tree line of the forest they'd just escaped.
It was fortunate that he did. Because even as he was listening in on a conversation about the sphinx, he noticed movement in the distant trees of the forest they'd just broken free of, and wondered what it meant. It didn't look like the action of wind on the trees. Thorm focussed on the forest behind them and listened carefully. Even though it was some distance away he thought he could detect the sound of roots and branches snapping. Something large was making its way through the forest. And it wasn't more troll hunters.
Worried, Thorm started making his way slowly back towards the trees, heedless of whether the party behind him noticed the grass coloured lion walking away. But he was cautious. He'd had enough of running into foes without first considering what he might be up against. It was generally in those situations that he got hurt. This time he had the added disadvantage that he was out in the open. Still he was lucky in that his form provided him with excellent eyesight. He could see far enough to make sure that no one got the edge on him. He would not be surprised again.
Unfortunately it turned out that he was wrong. It was more troll hunters. But this group was far larger than the parties of three or four that he had handled up until now. As they emerged from the trees perhaps half a league from him, he counted the group and knew a moment of alarm. There were at least twenty trolls. It seemed that just as the party had grown stronger the King had grown more determined to kill them.
“Shite!” He cursed quietly even if the sound that made it out of his mouth was a small growl. It felt right to say it. This was not like the other hunting parties he'd had to deal with!
But then he remembered that he had magic – and a mind! It was a long range and the beasts were moving fast, the vicious bundles of hair and teeth galloping towards him. But they still burned and they never planned. He just needed to bring them together in a tight group.
Thorm roared, letting out all the frustration, anger and hatred he had in him, and immediately the trolls heard it they came together as they ran for him just as he needed them to. The trolls might not be able to march in formation like trained soldiers, but they still understood hunting as a pack. Thorm would make sure it was their undoing.
He stood perfectly still for a moment as he watched them heading for him, concentrating intently as he called his magic to him. His plan would involve three spells. The first, as usual was the ray of cutting light – a spell he was becoming very practised with. Almost without thought he cast it.
At this distance the trolls were too far away for him to either kill or even blind them. He also couldn't see them clearly enough to make out their faces, or even have a spell that could hit them at that distance with any chance of succeed. But he didn't need to. Instead he aimed the ray at the grass in front of them, hoping to create a fire break. It wasn't easy when the grass was green and still damp after the morning dew. But the sight of twenty trolls heading his way intending to kill him was sufficient to provide all the motivation he needed. Soon he had managed to light half a dozen little fires which quickly grew into bonfires.
Seeing it the trolls made to go around them. But the moment they did Thorm cast a spell of darkness; it had the effect of stealing the light from anything – the fires included – and soon the whole area around the tree line and a couple of hundred feet ahead was encased in such heavy darkness that nothing could be seen. It too was a spell he'd practised over the previous years, though never on this scale.
The darkness stopped the trolls in their tracks. Or at least he assumed it had. He could no more see into the region of darkness than they could see out of it. But even a troll had to be smart enough not to run around blindly when there was a fire nearby. Besides the ground was no longer rumbling with the heavy tread of their feet. It also sounded like they were calling out to each other in alarm. The odds were that they had stopped and were now standing around, trying to work out what had happened. And that would be their death.
Behind him, Thorm could hear the sounds of the escapees shouting in alarm. He hoped they did nothing and remained where they were. It would be the smart thing to do. But whether they stayed put or instead were overcome with a rush of anger and tried to mount an attack he didn’t know. He couldn't watch them.
Finally Thorm called on his wind spell. A simple magic that caused a gentle breeze to blow from behind him toward the trolls. In normal circumstances that would be a bad thing as it would carry his scent to the trolls, perhaps even tempting them to advance again. But that didn't matter just then. What mattered was that the breeze worked to fan the flames in front of them, and then drive them back towards the trolls.
He only wished he could see what was happening. But unfortunately everything including the fires was lost in the darkness. All he could actually see was the smoke as it rose into the sky above it. But the smoke was soon thick and black as it rose into the sky and there was a lot of it. And as he stood there watching he began to hear the sound of the trolls screeching in pain. Some of them at least he knew, were burning.
Thorm waited for a full five minutes before he finally let the darkness lift. Then when he did it was to see a minor inferno burning out of control, and a few trolls running around on fire. As for the rest of them, they were nowhere in sight. Some might have got away. But most, he hoped, had been killed and were now roasting in the fire.
It was a victory. But it was only an opening skirmish. This time the trolls weren't alone. He realised that as he saw the trees behind them shaking violently and heard the distant sound of creatures trumpeting. Thorm felt his heart beat in panic as his blood chilled, wondering what new enemy the Eternal King was sending this time.
Eventually his question was answered as the nearest trees gave way and the first of a bunch of giant creatures broke through the tree line. They had hairy grey hides, trunks and giant tusks protruding from beside their mouths. Thorm knew a moment of true panic then as he realised what they were. Mammoths!
The Eternal King had sent a party of mammoths after them! He hadn't even known that the King had mammoths. And of course there were soldiers with them. Each mammoth had a small wooden box on its back and in each box four soldiers were seated, with muskets at the ready. Suddenly he knew why he hadn't seen the troll's masters running along after their pets. They were riding the mammoths.
“By the Seven!” Thorm despaired for a moment, letting his frustration out in a small roar. How could this have happened? And how could he possibly fight mammoths? It just wasn't possible. His only weapon, the beam of cutting light, would be nothing against them.
At least for the moment though, the mammoths’ progress had been slowed by the fires. They were intelligent creatures; intelligent enough to know that they didn't want to go anywhere near the fires burning in front of them. And no matter how many times their masters yelled and beat at them, they weren't advancing. It gave him time to think while the mammoths' masters continued yelling helplessly at their beasts.
It was that that gave him the answer he needed. He couldn't battle the mammoths. He didn't want to. But most importantly he didn't need to. It was their masters that were his enemies. Left to themselves the mammoths wouldn't attack. They would retreat from the fire and then probably look for some good grazing.
And unexpectedly the spell he needed wasn't a spell of fire or darkness or wind. It wasn't a spell of any sort of battle at all. And it was one he had regularly used over the previous three years. Because it occurred to him that a buckle was no different to a lock. Bigger perhaps in this case, but other than that, completely identical. Rotate a tumbler, rotate a strap on a buckle. He just had to unlock them and the riding boxes would fall off, the soldiers with them.
It was difficult using the magic at such a range. Normally when he cast the spell it was on something just in front of him. But then he had managed to unlock the cell doors in the dungeon using his wizard's sight alone. This would be the same. Given the distance it would just take a little more concentration and a little more time.
Actually it took longer than he would have liked. The buckles resisted his spell more strongly than did tumblers. But it didn't matter. The enemy wasn't advancing, and even if they could see him through the fire, the soldiers' muskets had nothing like the range they needed to hit him. Half a league was far too far for a musket ball to travel.
Finally the spell was ready. Thorm felt it within him and let it go. A moment later he watched with his wizard's sight as the spell did its work and the straps holding the riding boxes on the mammoths' backs suddenly came undone.
The result was almost comedic as he watched the riding boxes began to slide off the mammoths' backs one by one, taking the soldiers with them. That in turn startled the mammoths and they trumpeted in surprise and fear as they felt what had previously been secured to their backs fall. Seconds later the first of them panicked. It started a chain reaction and then the rest stampeded, wheeling round and then running away from the fire and the soldiers toward safety. The soldiers in the meantime were doing their best not to get trampled in the rush. Not all of them were successful.
If he could have Thorm would have laughed at the sight. Both for the comedy of it, and the relief as he knew their enemy had been badly weakened. The trolls were dead and the mammoths had departed. But there were still the soldiers to deal with. With four or five on each mammoth, there had originally been thirty plus soldiers. Some had been injured in the fall and some trampled but even through the smoke he could see quite a few left standing. And even if they had been shocked and confused by the fall from the mammoths’ backs and the animals’ subsequent stampede, these were still trained soldiers. They were disciplined and determined. It wouldn’t be long before they gathered together into a formation and begin their advance on foot. After all, the Eternal King did not tolerate failure and they knew it.
It wasn't long before the fires started dying down. No longer sustained by his wind spell which had gradually died out, the fire couldn’t maintain its intensity. The grass simply wasn't dry enough. At the same time he saw the soldiers coming together as a group, picking up their injured, and preparing themselves for the attack.
