Mikkel!
He ventured down the ravine, bow ready. Another shadowy figure descended on him from above and he dropped his knocked arrow. He clutched after it as the cloaked underling drifted towards him. He was terrified as he watched it touch the ground and crumple in a sagging pile.
Billip inched closer and noticed his red feathered arrow lodged deep in its brain. Shivering at the sight, he marveled that the arrow had somehow found two targets from his single shot. Powerful magic indeed . Did the same apply to the bow? He reached for the arrow, noticing that the feathers were now blackened and dry, its magic spent.
He slid down the ravine and soon came upon Mikkel on the ground; his breathing was shallow and raspy, lips caked with blood. The man groaned as he sat him up. He put his canteen to Mikkel’s lips.
“ How is he?” a hard voice said.
He turned and saw a startling figure of muscle and metal splashed with gore. Vee?
“Not good. I haven’t seen him this pale since his wedding. We need to get him away from here.”
The sounds of battle grew louder all around them. A full scale attack must have begun.
Venir handed Chongo over to Billip and hefted Mikkel over his shoulder.
“Agreed—let’s move … they’ll be on us in no time.”
CHAPTER 19
The thick webs peeled away as Venir’s axe sliced through them. Gasps of pain escaped labored lips from behind him as they treaded back up the ravine. He was exhausted, body wracked with pain. Holes had burned in the mail that covered his belly, singing his flesh to metal. They reached the bottom outpost wall and entered through the same steel storm drain they had been defending. He locked it down as they headed inside the bowels of the outpost.
Three stout Royal henchmen in scale armor guarded their path, but moved aside with wary glances. Venir could see debris falling as heavy activities were in force above. He led the way as they traveled upward through the wide tunnel of rock and soil as the sounds of chaos grew. Dim light filtered in at the far end where a steel ladder led twenty feet up through a man-sized hole.
A lanky figure in pale green terrycloth robes and ankle-strap sandals descended the ladder at a brisk pace, hopping off the final five steps, and rambling towards them. It was a tall man, near seven feet in height, his narrow face light-skinned and boyish beneath short sandy hair. His voice was soothing, somewhat childlike, his light blue eyes showing a wisdom and compassion that was rare on Bish.
“I knew you guys would be here.”
“No surprise you know that, Slim?” Venir said.
Slim was a man that had answers and seemed to know more than most men, despite his youthful appearance.
“I know you guys, you never miss a party,” Slim said raising his eyebrows. “Mikkel looks bad. What’s been going on?” The boyish man began inspecting the brawler with his fingers, motioning his hands downward.
Venir lowered Mikkel to the ground and started to take off his helmet.
“Leave it on, big guy,” Slim gestured. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”
The young man noticed the archers load.
“Ah, it’s my favorite pooch … how sad.”
He laid his long slender fingers over Chongo’s hip.
“Be still,” the man whispered.
Venir could see Slim’s face twist in agony for a fleeting moment before returning to normal. He grunted.
“Ah,” the cleric said with a smile as Chongo licked his face. “That wasn’t so bad, was it boy?” Slim then turned back to the man laid out in the tunnel and said, “Now the big guy. Hold him still, you two.”
Venir pressed down on Mikkel’s shoulders as he watched the young man work. He couldn’t believe their good fortune. Slim always reminded him of a young Melegal, except more friendly, something the thief resented. Billip helped him pin down the listless man’s powerful arms and legs. Here we go .
The long limbed man grabbed the shaft of the small bolt lodged in Mikkel’s belly.
He ventured down the ravine, bow ready. Another shadowy figure descended on him from above and he dropped his knocked arrow. He clutched after it as the cloaked underling drifted towards him. He was terrified as he watched it touch the ground and crumple in a sagging pile.
Billip inched closer and noticed his red feathered arrow lodged deep in its brain. Shivering at the sight, he marveled that the arrow had somehow found two targets from his single shot. Powerful magic indeed . Did the same apply to the bow? He reached for the arrow, noticing that the feathers were now blackened and dry, its magic spent.
He slid down the ravine and soon came upon Mikkel on the ground; his breathing was shallow and raspy, lips caked with blood. The man groaned as he sat him up. He put his canteen to Mikkel’s lips.
“ How is he?” a hard voice said.
He turned and saw a startling figure of muscle and metal splashed with gore. Vee?
“Not good. I haven’t seen him this pale since his wedding. We need to get him away from here.”
The sounds of battle grew louder all around them. A full scale attack must have begun.
Venir handed Chongo over to Billip and hefted Mikkel over his shoulder.
“Agreed—let’s move … they’ll be on us in no time.”
CHAPTER 19
The thick webs peeled away as Venir’s axe sliced through them. Gasps of pain escaped labored lips from behind him as they treaded back up the ravine. He was exhausted, body wracked with pain. Holes had burned in the mail that covered his belly, singing his flesh to metal. They reached the bottom outpost wall and entered through the same steel storm drain they had been defending. He locked it down as they headed inside the bowels of the outpost.
Three stout Royal henchmen in scale armor guarded their path, but moved aside with wary glances. Venir could see debris falling as heavy activities were in force above. He led the way as they traveled upward through the wide tunnel of rock and soil as the sounds of chaos grew. Dim light filtered in at the far end where a steel ladder led twenty feet up through a man-sized hole.
A lanky figure in pale green terrycloth robes and ankle-strap sandals descended the ladder at a brisk pace, hopping off the final five steps, and rambling towards them. It was a tall man, near seven feet in height, his narrow face light-skinned and boyish beneath short sandy hair. His voice was soothing, somewhat childlike, his light blue eyes showing a wisdom and compassion that was rare on Bish.
“I knew you guys would be here.”
“No surprise you know that, Slim?” Venir said.
Slim was a man that had answers and seemed to know more than most men, despite his youthful appearance.
“I know you guys, you never miss a party,” Slim said raising his eyebrows. “Mikkel looks bad. What’s been going on?” The boyish man began inspecting the brawler with his fingers, motioning his hands downward.
Venir lowered Mikkel to the ground and started to take off his helmet.
“Leave it on, big guy,” Slim gestured. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”
The young man noticed the archers load.
“Ah, it’s my favorite pooch … how sad.”
He laid his long slender fingers over Chongo’s hip.
“Be still,” the man whispered.
Venir could see Slim’s face twist in agony for a fleeting moment before returning to normal. He grunted.
“Ah,” the cleric said with a smile as Chongo licked his face. “That wasn’t so bad, was it boy?” Slim then turned back to the man laid out in the tunnel and said, “Now the big guy. Hold him still, you two.”
Venir pressed down on Mikkel’s shoulders as he watched the young man work. He couldn’t believe their good fortune. Slim always reminded him of a young Melegal, except more friendly, something the thief resented. Billip helped him pin down the listless man’s powerful arms and legs. Here we go .
The long limbed man grabbed the shaft of the small bolt lodged in Mikkel’s belly.
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