could be.
“What?” Delin asked before drawing his own short sword.
“I don’t know,” Fennic whispered, “but I feel it too.”
Norgen’s deep voice rumbled in the dark. “There is a Gnaal close. We are being hunted. Prepare yourselves.”
“A Gnaal!” they exclaimed in unison. “What does it want?”
“Death.”
Delin’s stomach rose to his throat and he felt sick. He absently fumbled through his pocket. The purple stone offered courage and hope just from a touch. The next scream ended that feeling.
“Death is the only way to satisfy them. Cold and overpowering, they continue their hunt until their prey lay broken at their feet. Whether it comes for me or you I cannot say,” Norgen continued.
“That’s not reassuring,” Fennic said.
“We must flee. Now!”
Delin hesitated. “Shouldn’t we find some place to hide and let it pass?”
“Gnaal’s do not pass and there is no place to hide. They will hunt us until they die or their master calls them off.,” Norgen growled. “Quickly. Pack up the camp and let us be away before it finds us.”
A horrible, high pitched wail broke through the tree only a few meters away. Fennic strapped his pack on as a huge shape burst into the tiny glade. The odor was overwhelming. It stank of rot and decayed flesh, disease and malice. Worst of all, it stank of death. The beast drew darkness unto it, stealing definition from the writhing limbs and grotesque flesh riddled with boils and lesions. The Gnaal hissed a noxious gas and bellowed loud enough to frighten the gods asleep in their ancient halls and mountain thrones.
“Run!”
Norgen shoved them away and took a mighty swing towards the Gnaal’s midsection. The axe blade hit the hardened flesh and bounced off. Norgen was slapped to the ground, barely managing to roll away before the Gnaal punched down into the ground. Fennic’s shout drew its attention away long enough for Norgen to escape. The Dwarf dashed forward while Fennic stepped toward the Gnaal with Phaelor in hand. The Gnaal cringed and retreated a step before lashing it’s tail at the boy. Fennic ducked. The scaled appendage whistled over his head to strike a maple tree.
The tree exploded with a loud crack and sent splinters flying. Norgen scooped up the boy and carried him into the night. Phaelor’s golden light somehow wounded the beast. For perhaps the first time it became aware of its mortality. The Gnaal knew fear. The creature of darkness clutched the wound and folded back into the night. Norgen wasn’t about to trust to luck. He pushed them harder and faster, and easily out ran them both.
“Hurry lads,” he ordered between deep breaths. “You’re sword hurt it, but there’s not much time before it’ll be back.”
Delin dropped to his knees from sheer exhaustion. “We can’t run all the way to Paedwyn. Fennic wounded it. We should stand and fight.”
“Have you learned nothing this night? Nothing we do can kill them,” Norgen spat.
“But you said I hurt it,” Fennic said. “And if it can be hurt, it can be killed.”
“Not by any of us. Do you have the courage to look into Death’s eyes?” He sipped from his canteen before adding, “I do not, not a second time. Both of you are too young to know such horrors. We’ve run half the night. Let us find a place to rest for a spell. Pray the demon does not return. Once dawn comes we head south for the road to Paedwyn.”
“How can you be so sure of where we are?” Delin asked. “I’ve been lost from the moment we set off this night.”
“My people have long looked to the skies to show us the way. Each star has its place in the night sky, as does the moon. See that bright one up to your left? That is named Gru in the Old Tongue, and always points the way north. Once you find her she will guide your way.”
Fennic decided the theory went beyond his working knowledge and let the matter rest but for one question. “What happens when there’s no moon to guide
“What?” Delin asked before drawing his own short sword.
“I don’t know,” Fennic whispered, “but I feel it too.”
Norgen’s deep voice rumbled in the dark. “There is a Gnaal close. We are being hunted. Prepare yourselves.”
“A Gnaal!” they exclaimed in unison. “What does it want?”
“Death.”
Delin’s stomach rose to his throat and he felt sick. He absently fumbled through his pocket. The purple stone offered courage and hope just from a touch. The next scream ended that feeling.
“Death is the only way to satisfy them. Cold and overpowering, they continue their hunt until their prey lay broken at their feet. Whether it comes for me or you I cannot say,” Norgen continued.
“That’s not reassuring,” Fennic said.
“We must flee. Now!”
Delin hesitated. “Shouldn’t we find some place to hide and let it pass?”
“Gnaal’s do not pass and there is no place to hide. They will hunt us until they die or their master calls them off.,” Norgen growled. “Quickly. Pack up the camp and let us be away before it finds us.”
A horrible, high pitched wail broke through the tree only a few meters away. Fennic strapped his pack on as a huge shape burst into the tiny glade. The odor was overwhelming. It stank of rot and decayed flesh, disease and malice. Worst of all, it stank of death. The beast drew darkness unto it, stealing definition from the writhing limbs and grotesque flesh riddled with boils and lesions. The Gnaal hissed a noxious gas and bellowed loud enough to frighten the gods asleep in their ancient halls and mountain thrones.
“Run!”
Norgen shoved them away and took a mighty swing towards the Gnaal’s midsection. The axe blade hit the hardened flesh and bounced off. Norgen was slapped to the ground, barely managing to roll away before the Gnaal punched down into the ground. Fennic’s shout drew its attention away long enough for Norgen to escape. The Dwarf dashed forward while Fennic stepped toward the Gnaal with Phaelor in hand. The Gnaal cringed and retreated a step before lashing it’s tail at the boy. Fennic ducked. The scaled appendage whistled over his head to strike a maple tree.
The tree exploded with a loud crack and sent splinters flying. Norgen scooped up the boy and carried him into the night. Phaelor’s golden light somehow wounded the beast. For perhaps the first time it became aware of its mortality. The Gnaal knew fear. The creature of darkness clutched the wound and folded back into the night. Norgen wasn’t about to trust to luck. He pushed them harder and faster, and easily out ran them both.
“Hurry lads,” he ordered between deep breaths. “You’re sword hurt it, but there’s not much time before it’ll be back.”
Delin dropped to his knees from sheer exhaustion. “We can’t run all the way to Paedwyn. Fennic wounded it. We should stand and fight.”
“Have you learned nothing this night? Nothing we do can kill them,” Norgen spat.
“But you said I hurt it,” Fennic said. “And if it can be hurt, it can be killed.”
“Not by any of us. Do you have the courage to look into Death’s eyes?” He sipped from his canteen before adding, “I do not, not a second time. Both of you are too young to know such horrors. We’ve run half the night. Let us find a place to rest for a spell. Pray the demon does not return. Once dawn comes we head south for the road to Paedwyn.”
“How can you be so sure of where we are?” Delin asked. “I’ve been lost from the moment we set off this night.”
“My people have long looked to the skies to show us the way. Each star has its place in the night sky, as does the moon. See that bright one up to your left? That is named Gru in the Old Tongue, and always points the way north. Once you find her she will guide your way.”
Fennic decided the theory went beyond his working knowledge and let the matter rest but for one question. “What happens when there’s no moon to guide
Similar Books
