Roar, page 14
Thorm considered his options. He could, he realised, fan the flames back into life, create a new region of darkness and then send the inferno backwards, into it, to burn the soldiers alive. But something about that didn't sit right with him. Burning trolls was one thing. They were next to mindless and completely savage. But people? Even enemies? He couldn't do that. Killing them was one thing. That was something different. Something far too terrible to contemplate. It wasn't righteous – and he always tried to follow the teachings of Zara.
He needed a new strategy.
Fortunately he had a way of buying himself some time to come up with one. And no sooner had he thought of it than Thorm brought the darkness back over the soldiers. Unable to see which way they were going, he knew the soldiers wouldn't advance. They would hunker down and hope that the blindness would pass as it had before. Because the fact was that they had no idea that they were blind because there was no light around them. They all surely thought it was because their eyes had failed. After all who would believe that there was no light left in the middle of the day when the sun was shining down on them? And if they were blind they would ask themselves, how could they fight?
And then something occurred to him. He was a wizard. He didn't need light to see. Not when he had his wizard's sight.
Thorm quickly looked around to check on the escapees, just to make sure that none of them were advancing on him. The last thing he needed was them getting involved. But they weren't. Instead they had set up a perimeter and were preparing to defend themselves if the enemy attacked. But they weren't advancing. Satisfied that they weren’t going to pose a threat, he trotted across the grasslands towards the flames and the darkness beyond.
It took a good ten minutes for him to cross the distance between them and then to make his way around the fire which was burning lower still. But the time was good. It helped him to focus his thoughts. He knew he was going to have to be focussed for what he was about to do. Wizard sight was nowhere near as precise as normal vision.
He just hoped as he crossed the line where the darkness began, that it would be good enough.
Once inside he stopped quickly. It was hard to be blind he discovered. More so than he'd imagined. It took a moment for him to steady his nerves. But once under control he concentrated on using his wizard’s sight, focusing only on what it was telling him. But at least he knew he wasn't actually blind.
The soldiers weren't so lucky. They thought it was their sight that had gone. And as the darkness went on, more and more of them had begun thinking that their blindness was permanent. He could see the panic growing in their hearts.
The closest soldier was very near to him, and Thorm went for him first. He lashed out with a paw at the spot where he thought the man's body should be. Unfortunately to his wizard sight the man was more a glowing ball of thoughts and emotions than a physical being. He had no true shape.
Thorm missed his body, catching the soldier's head instead since he was sitting down. But that was good enough as he knocked the man the rest of the way to the ground causing him to scream in shock and fear, and then jumped on him. Then he grabbed at the back of the man’s uniform and dragged him away, out of the darkness. The man screamed of course, not quite knowing what was happening, and he did his best to strike at him with a knife. But being dragged along on his back the man was unable to turn around to reach him with it.
Once he was outside of the darkness, still screaming in terror, Thorm simply cut the man's belts off him, and his pack, and then tossed him back in the direction of the trees.
Despite the fact that he didn't use all his strength, it was a good throw and the man flew at least twenty feet, before landing awkwardly and bouncing along the ground. He screamed all the way. He had reason for that as even as he was flying over the ground, several musket balls came flying his way. The soldiers inside the darkness were shooting at the sound, thinking that even blind they might find their target. Not that they even knew who their enemy was. Thorm wondered if they'd be able to reload their weapons while blind.
“Filthy beast!” Unexpectedly the man got up with a knife in his hands and then ran at Thorm obviously thinking he had a chance. He didn't.
Thorm met the soldier head on and knocked him to the ground, savaging the hand holding the knife as he did so. After that he started tearing the man’s uniform off him, not worrying if his claws scratched the soldier. Not worrying either as a few more musket balls came flying in his general direction. All that mattered was that the soldier was soon nearly naked, disarmed and completely at Thorm's mercy. The moment Thorm took his paw off the man’s body and roared, the man bolted, darting back into the darkness and toward the tree line. Thorm knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Once the man was a good hundred paces from him, Thorm turned and headed back into the darkness, searching for his next victim. Then when he found the next soldier he did exactly the same thing to him. Dragging him out of the darkness, stripping him, and sending him running.
And so it went on as one by one he dragged out, disarmed, and crippled the soldiers, sending them running back naked into the forest. Many of them were bleeding as they ran. His claws had struck deep into their flesh as he'd ripped their uniforms off them. But that didn't trouble him. In fact it pleased him. He figured it meant they would run harder. And in the end they were troll hunters. At least some of them were. The worst of all soldiers. They should suffer a little. And he didn't like the blue they wore.
It took a the best part of an hour to disarm all the soldiers. But by the time he was finished there wasn't a single clothed soldier left in the darkness. Some of them he could see had taken to the trees three or four hundred paces from him and were staring at him in fear from the branches. No doubt they were terrified that he might attack. But he suspected they were also hoping that he'd eventually leave and they could then climb down and go and collect their belongings.
They were out of luck on that. Because while he was a lion and had no thumbs to grab things with, he’d long ago learnt to offset the problem by practising the spells that allowed him to carry things without hands. Thorm cast a simple spell and immediately the packs and clothes and weapons and everything else of value the soldiers had lost was suddenly rolling along the ground, coming together to form a central pile. A second spell hoisted that pile into the air, and then let it follow him as he returned to the hamadryads.
The party should be pleased he thought as he trotted slowly back to them. Thirty more muskets, many other assorted weapons, packs full of supplies, and even some spare clothing that had been stored in the packs. It was a good haul. And he had also defeated another party of soldiers.
But then it occurred to him that they still might try to shoot him. After all, it hadn’t yet seemed to occur to them that he was helping them even if they kept thinking he might be the sphinx. Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t get too close. With that thought in mind Thorm deposited the supplies close to where they were and remain hidden.
Sphinx or lion, he still terrified them and they still wanted to kill him. There was no justice in the world.
Chapter Fifteen
It was late and Thorm was tired. Not just physically tired but drained of vitality. His hope was fading.
He had spent three more days on the trail – actually on the grasslands – and in that time had learned little more of any use to him. A minor spell, a little more gossip about the sphinx, but nothing that would help him in his quest to return to his own form. He was starting to think that his efforts were pointless. The hamadryads knew little and what they did know they weren't going to say. And what they say they said it in their own tongue, Doranic.
But then it had always been a faint hope. He had known that from the moment he had decided to free them. And nothing had really changed. He was going to remain as he was for the rest of his life. Trapped in this damned body.
If only the escapees were grateful for what he'd done for them, it would be at least something. But they weren’t. They'd stopped shooting at him thankfully. But when they spotted him – and they kept watch these days – rifles were still pointed in his direction. It was a clear threat. And while they probably didn't know all he'd done to keep them safe, they had to know some of it. Surely they had seen him battle the mammoths and bring them the weapons? And yet they still didn’t trust him any more than they would any other wild animal. He was dangerous. He suspected he always would be to them.
Maybe it was time to go home? There didn't seem to be much else he could learn from the prisoners. And it had been three days since the last attack. Perhaps the worst of the danger had passed? Perhaps he was no longer needed? He felt sure he wouldn’t be needed after they reached the border with Erisen – and they had to be close. Perhaps he should leave then.
But then again, what had he been learning from his studies before this? Nothing. So what was there to gain by returning now? The same. So though he had learnt little in his time with the escaped prisoners, it was still more than he had learned before. Almost nothing was better than absolutely nothing.
It was as he was considering the relative merits of different sorts of nothing, that he felt the approach of someone with magic – a lot of magic. It sent a warning shiver running down his spine. He'd only felt that sort of magic once before and it hadn't ended up going well for him. But this wasn't the hag. With her the magic had been chaotic and barely contained. This was nearly as wild but better controlled.
Thorm still didn't like it. He braced himself for what was coming, readying all his defensive spells – what few he had – and tried to spot the visitor.
He saw nothing. Not with his normal eyes. Not with his wizard's sight either. Somehow whoever it was, had hidden themselves from him. And he hadn't thought that was even possible.
“Well, well. I was told they had a kitty problem!” A woman's voice came from out of the darkness, mocking him. “Pretty kitty! But such big teeth!”
Thorm panicked a little when he heard that. When he realised that someone was watching him. And when he had no idea who by or even where the woman was. Her voice didn’t come from any particular direction but instead seemed to come from all around. And no matter how hard he looked he still couldn't see her, not even when he spun around and checked the skies.
“But problems can be solved.”
Instantly Thorm felt the magic grow around his feet, and then watched in disbelief as the ground itself rose up around him. But he had been in enough battles by then to know not to allow his shock to slow him. He roared angrily and leapt over the rising barriers surrounding him, and was soon on safe ground.
But safe only for a moment. Thorm tensed, waiting for the next attack.
Why had she attacked him? He tried to ask but forgot he couldn't until a roar came out of his mouth. And that he knew was no help at all.
Suddenly a blinding pulse of brilliance blazed out into the night, turning the night into day, and threatening to blind him. But again he was quick. Quick enough to close his eyes and turn aside as he raised his own barrier spell. One that blocked both fire and light. Or at least diminished them.
“Green eyes and spells! Fascinating.” The woman laughed as if it was nothing but a day out in the sun. “But not fascinating enough kitty cat!” Her tone changed as she suddenly became serious.
A blast of force struck from out of nowhere and hit Thorm full in the face, sending him flying backwards, tumbling out of control. He roared in shock and fear as he bounced and rolled on the hard ground, smashing down hard again and again and hurting each time before he flew again, and trying to work out how she was doing it. How he could stop her.
How could anyone be either so powerful or so quick with their spells? He didn’t know. But after another painful encounter with the ground he decided that he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was not getting himself pummelled to death by the ground. Somehow he managed to stop himself from tumbling and to find his footing again. And then to raise another barrier spell. A shield against force. But even as he did so he was uncomfortably aware that it hadn't been much use against the hag, and he doubted it would be any use against this fell witch either.
Of course she used the ground against him again, and once more he had to leap to safety as it tried to grab him. To swallow him whole. But she was ready for that and even as he leapt he felt another blast of force smash into his side and send him flying. His barrier spell provided about as much protection as a wall of spiderwebs against a speeding cannon ball.
Thorm bounced and once more found himself hurled to the ground, completely out of control. It seemed that just as it had been three years ago, a fell witch was seeking to kill him and he was helpless to stop her. Thorm was terrified but that very fear told him he didn't have any time to be afraid. He didn't have time for anything save to defend himself. And that began with fighting back. And even as he was coming to a rest he raised his own counter. He created a small wind funnel surrounding him, that started whipping up all the dirt and dust around him and flung it in all directions. It wasn't a powerful attack. In fact it could do little more than blast dust in peoples' eyes. But he didn't need it to kill her. Only to distract her.
But even that was too much.
“How dare you!” The woman yelled at Thorm, angered by his spell. And a heartbeat later she launched another attack on him. This time a blast of force so powerful that it made everything else seem as if it had been nothing.
Again Thorm was flung high into the air, the wind funnel with him, and this time he didn't come down. He just kept flying higher and higher, streaking through the sky like a musket ball, until finally when he looked down he realised he was so high that the animals below looked like ants. And that was a bad thing, because he knew even as his motion slowed, that eventually he was going to come down. He was going to die! Since he couldn't fly, unless he found a spell to save him, he would likely die on impact. At the very least every bone in his body would be broken. Smashed into powder.
Desperately he started casting, calling more and more wind to strengthen his wind funnel until it was roaring around him with all the fury of a tornado, and using it to slow his descent. And it seemed to work as he felt the rush of wind underneath him pushing him up. But he wasn't the only one who could use the magic of the storm, and even while he tried to keep from being killed in a fall, lightning started flashing all around. Powerful lightning, that he knew would kill him if it hit.
Suddenly he had to raise yet another barrier spell while still trying to keep his wind funnel holding him aloft. And by then he was already holding too many spells at once. The result was chaos.
Lightning kept flashing around him. Occasionally it got through his barrier and one or two bolts got close enough to singe his fur, making him cry out in pain. Thunder roared out of control. Some of it from the storm, some of it from him as he roared in pain each time he was struck by another blast. His wind funnel became unstable and once again he found himself tumbling through the sky, out of control but desperately trying to hold everything together. He was managing, just, but he was juggling so many spells at once and the slightest mistake would send him plummeting to his death. Still he held it, somehow, and though his landing would be bumpy, he thought he might yet survive it.
And then the witch attacked him with hail. Bitterly cold water and large balls of ice that smashed into him, distracting him as he fought to survive. She was trying to stop him thinking about his spells. To make him let them go. But if he did that he knew he would fall to his death. And he knew he couldn't do that.
Desperation ruled and he concentrated on the wind funnel, stabilising it as the ground came ever closer, while ignoring the blasts of lightning and hail that were now slipping more easily through his weakened barriers. He could only pray that his concentrating on the wind didn’t save him from the fall only to be killed by the lightening or the hail.
In the end he hit the ground hard as he had always known he would. Harder than he had hoped but at least he managed to land without breaking any bones. The bruises though, he suspected, would last a lifetime, while the scorch marks from the lightning might take even longer to disappear. But he didn't have time to give in to his pain. Because even as he lay there gasping for breath he knew the witch was coming for him. He still had to protect himself. He had to fight!
Thorm began with his wind storm, concentrating on adding yet more strength to it. It was his most powerful spell. Soon he had a true tornado surrounding him, sweeping up dust from the ground, hiding him, he hoped, from the witch. It also prevented her from coming too close.
Thorm sat in the eye of the tornado, a space only an inch or so wider than he was, while the winds ripped all around him at impossible speeds. It tore into the ground and ripped out grass and soil only to send it flying in all directions. Clouds of filth. If the woman didn't like dirt in her eyes she was going to hate this.
Of course the chance of her being affected by it was small. He didn't know how far she'd thrown him but as best he could tell he was at least half a league away from where he'd been. At that distance he didn't think she would be affected by his storm. But he also knew he couldn't approach her. Whoever this wizard woman was, and even if she was somehow connected to the escaped prisoners as he was sure she had to be, he didn't want to kill them as he battled her.
