The moon hung in the sky like a great godly eyeball winking at the mortality below as Lars trudged down the side of the mountain covered in a black soup of night. Everywhere about him, the sounds of the creatures of night echoed and screeched to one another as his feet crunched each fallen leaf, and the faint glow of firelight from whence he came faded slowly with his descent down the mountain. His keen dwarven eyes grasped the surface of the round looking for traces of the horses which he quickly found as he spied an abundance of overturned earth and leaves. However, to his dismay, the tracks split into two separate directions away from the campsite at the mouth of Monmüth. Lars stood in place, glancing at the beams of moonlight that penetrated the forest canopy, and sighed with his hands on his hips. Thinking to himself that he would rather end his search in the direction of Altendon, Lars quickly chose the path that headed in the general direction of where he believed Gr'Valdth to lie far in the distance, jostling his axe in his hand to reassure himself of his ability to defend himself against the unknown.
It was only a few moment when Lars began to pick the scent of blood from the forest aromas of wood and earth, and he began to frown. Telling himself that the blood trail upon the soft breeze did not necessarily mean that he was smelling the blood of horses, he persevered, pushing the dense limbs and vines away from his face. As he cautiously stepped through the low lying branches of the shorter evergeens, the smaller denizens of the forest scurried out of the way of his stubby footsteps. For a strange moment of the time, Lars took notice at the tiny mice running into their hidden burrows, softly musing in attempt to maintain his spirit, "That's right! There be one master of this wood tonight, sirs." As Lars' voice paused, it was not his voice that echoed from the trees at that moment, but rather a more familiar sound. His momentary lapse of self-awareness, indeed, had awoken a stirring in the forest, and a eerie breeze blew harder than the rest before this time sending a quick shudder through Lars' spine as he stopped and listened. Suddenly, there was a loud screech echoing through the darkness catching Lars off-guard, and his mind listened more intently to determine direction. Quickly following the ominous blurt was the familiar sound of a leathery flapping noise. Lars' mind raced back to the encounter with the Berbalangs. He knew this sound he thought to himself as he heard the sound once again. Lars licked his lip as the sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He peered into the forest ahead as he slowly crept forward, cautiously easing the branches aside to allow for himself to adequately view what lay ahead of him. The odor of blood rang out across his senses as he pulled the thistled branch aside to behold the open sky above a glade where the moonlight bathed the ground. At once, he drew a deep breath as he gripped his axe tighter in his hand, and his eyes fell upon the two Berbalang feasting on the corpse of the horse.
Remembering the toilsome encounter of the last four Berbalangs, Lars held his breath as the oblivious demons bent over ruptured carcass of the horse. The grotesque delight at which the beasts tore strips of meat from the fallen creature was as Hellish as any nightmare of unfortuante climax. Lars' heart raced as the the toothy maws of demon chomped on the strands of sinew, clicking and screeching to one another in delight and satiation like demonic children around the campfire. For a moment, Lars saw these unholy creatures as they were: hunters trying to survive in a world that gave them little regard. But Lars was quick to remember his friend and the tales of the old man in the valley just two days before. He knew these things were evil despite their child-like semblance at this moment. Lars gritted his teeth and lowered his eyebrows. He slowly changed hands with his axe as he reached behind him to unsheath his smaller hand-axe. Raising the smaller axe into the air slowly, Lars repositioned his stance to account for the impending toss. And with one great motion of his arm, the hand-axe was sent forth through the air, whistling as its blade turned over and over through the air. As the singing blade of the axe rang out, the two beasts immediately snapped their heads around to face their attacked, strips of bloody sinew and flesh dangling from their maws and their glowing eyes pulsing with light. At that moment, the axe had met its mark as the blade came around to face its target, and buried itself through the skull of on the Berbalang. Blood splashed from the carcass of the dead horse as the fallen Berbalang's corpse struck the demonic dinner table. This time, the remaining Berbalang screeched a horrible screech of surprise and vaulted its body into the air as its wings flapped furiously towards the great orb in the sky bathing them both with light. Lars peered into the sky at the beast that stopped its ascent, hovering there as it waited for Lars to make his next move. Lars, more confident now that the numbers were more even, changed his axe to the other hand again and stepped out into the glade. Lars grasped the long handle of the axe with both hands across his body, and stared the beast in the eyes.
"Allright, ya' bastard! Ya' wanted to see the devil who slew yer' friend? Well, tonight, you get your wish!" Lars yelled at the Berbalang. The Berbalang, now apparently much larger than the other Berbalangs he had encountered, was highlighted by the moon behind it. Lars, furious with battle rage, still managed to shudder once again having now been able to see the beast in all its glory. This one was a great deal bigger, and noticeably so, and the familiar, albeit faint, stroke of fear ran through his body. But Lars stood his ground. He had the blood of dwarves in his veins. He was of the stock of soldiers and warriors. He had seen greater foe and more enemies than this lowly creature of foul domain. He would not be deterred. The beast hovered in the air for a moment, and as its huge wings spread apart before its dive, the moon disappeared behind it along with much of its light. Lars' eyes grew wide in anticipation as the beast tipped its head down, and its body fell like an arrow on a rope at Lars. The light from its eyes streamed behind the beast's head as it tore through the air, its two front massive claws glistening and outstretched to grasp its enemy. Lars shifted his stance, and prepared for a the mightiest of swings, but then he got an idea. As the gigantic Berbalang furiously approached Lars' position on the ground, Lars relaxed his stance. He let down his guard, striking his broad axe's handle into the ground and stopped down behind it completely covered by the wide breadth if its double-bladed span. Lars braced himself for the impact and gritted his teeth in anticipation of the force. He closed his eyes tight as the monstrous beast, unable to slow its dive in time, plowed into the wide, flat mithril side of Lars' axe with an immense metallic ringing.
CLANG!
The force of the beast behind the wide blades of the axe sent Lars tumbling backwards with the beast rolling about him. Taking the brunt of the blunt force, the massive Berbalang came to a stop, its arms outstretched to its sides and dazed from the bewildering trauma of the crash. Having prepared for the crash, Lars eventually came to a stop as well a few feet from the beast as the demon's head wobbled loosely on its shoulders from the impact. Quickly, Lars regained his bearings, and gripping his axe in his hands tightly, rolled over to stare the beast through the crotch straight to the bottom of its jaw. It was then that Lars grinned, a trickle of blood escaping his brow where the other side of his axe had struck him, too. Lars drew in a large breath of air as he hoisted himself to one knee, raising the axe above his head. "Say hello to your friends for me! Tell 'em Lars of Altendon sent ya', ya bastard! " Lars said, and the with one powerful strike through the air, Lars buried the axe through the chest of the beast, splitting the demon into two parts with a crack and a spray of green blood.
Lars, certain that no beast dare to intrude upon this scene, fell backwards against the cool grass of the glade and breathed hard for a moment. After a moment, Lars stood back up, placed his foot on the dead beast's corpse and pulled his axe free of the dead Berbalang's body. The crunch of bone echoed through the glade as the axe broke free of the beast's spinal column, and Lars curled his lip and spit into the gaping chest cavity of the dead creature. Feeling rather spry, Lars hoisted his axe over his shoulder and strutted back into the forest from whence he came, taking a moment to spy a few more of the mice from before once again scurrying off to their burrows. "Told you so, ya' lil' vermin!" he said as he wiped the green goo from his upper lip with his sleeve and sniffed accordingly. "Ok, one more to go. We can do this." he said to himself, reassuring himself that the worst of his nightly adventure had come.
Lars, more confident than before, trodded through the forest with less care at this point. Eventually reaching the point of the trail where the three horses split in different directions, Lars' glanced quickly up toward the campfire at the open of the ruined monastery. All looked well to this point. He then gazed at the sky to find the moon had once again began to descend from its zenith in the center of the heavens. Accordingly, Lars took a deep breath and began to walk down the mountain again to the southern portion of the valley from where they entered just a couple of days before. After roughly on hundred meters, the tracks of the scared horse crossed paths with the tracks that he and Dalmar made as they ascended towards the ruins at the peak. As expected, Lars turned to follow these conglomeration of horse hooves of varying direction, and eventually found himself staring across the valley in the direction of the farmstead at the head of the wide valley. Lars paused at the scene as the beauty of the open valley struck him in the moonlight. The green grass of the wide topological trough took upon a soothing blue-green-gray sort of color as the night's light covered everything in sight. Lars took a moment as he pulled his heavy axe off his shoulder and buried its blade into the ground, and promptly sat down besode it at the edge of the tree. Lars sighed. He looked back in the direction of the farmstead towards the wide body of water majestically sitting in the center of the valley. There at the edge of the water, on the same side as the farmstead in the distance, was the horse. Lars chuckled as he rested for a moment, thinking about the long walk across the valley on foot. By the time he got the horse and got back to the top of the mountain, the first birds of the early morning would be chirping. Lars chuckled again, thinking to himself, "Well, we dwarves were never known for our good luck...." Musing at the irony of an easy find of the horse, Lars stood up again, brushing the bits of grass and seed from his leggings. He grabbed his axe, and hoisted it over his shoulder and began the trek across the valley.
In higher spirits and rested, Lars walked with a fairly brisk pace, keeping his eyes on the distance ahead and behind him. He'd had enough confrontation for one night, and the easiness of retrieving the horse at the edge of the lake was a welcomed sight in that respect. Indeed, he was amazed that he was able to locate the two horses after two days, but Lars knew it was far more important to tend to Dalmar. Perhaps he could have avoided the first horse's encounter with the Berbalangs. Perhaps not. Who could tell? Lars quickly dismissed this line of thought. It did concern him that the people of farmstead did nothing to capture the second horse, however. Lars pondered on this for several minutes. Maybe they hadn't seen it. "No, that's ridiculous" Lars thought. Maybe they were waiting to see if you'd come back. "Possibly" Lars answered himself in his mind's voice. Maybe this isn't the same horse. "That, too, is possible I suppose" Lars thought. Lars remembered the old man's attempt to charm he and Dalmar. "Maybe it's a trap" Lars thought as he paused and stared at the farmstead from a distance. "Maybe it is...." Lars said aloud to himself this time. Lars turned to the opposite side of the lake and began walking in a different direction as he eventually met the edge of the large body of water. Rounding the circumference of the lake after a short while, he then approached the horse from the opposite side of the farmstead. His eyes surveyed the horse as it eventually saw its master. Lars recognized the saddle. He recognized his gear. He recognized the horse pattern as it trotted up to him. "Well, there aren't many horses of this breed around here, I suppose...." he said to himself, noting that his horse wasn't fit for men. Patting down his steed, Lars mounted his horse and rode back into the valley. As the wind picked up with the onset of the new day, Lars knew his adventures for the night were over, and he was glad. He reached down into his saddlebag, pulled out the pipe that he knew well and the bundle of tobacco. Looking at the familiar, comforting items, he smiled and packed the bell of his pipe. Finally, signaling the commitment to the night's end, he lit the pipe as the sweet smoke crossed the surface of his tongue with its sweetness, and he drew it in. Holding it there for a moment, he then blew it out slowly with metaphorical resolution.
"Yeah, that's the stuff. Right there." Lars said.
Invino Veritas
5/27/12
EOF
No comments:
Post a Comment