Dalynia - Nature's Slaughter Page 3

  Chapter 3

  The two Rangers made their way down the steep cliff face. The soil crumbled underneath their feet as their leather boots tried to find purchase. They could hear the sounds of battle rising from the valley below as they advanced closer.

  Namorn looked at the path leading down the mountain and muttered, "It's going to take us forever to get to them."

  "Or we'll die in that mud. The rains haven't been kind this winter," Garos fumed.

  "You know, Dalynia is the village's strongest Druid in centuries and she's only thirty. Not to mention she's pretty hot for a mum."

  Garos sucker-punched Namorn in the gut. "And your point?"

  Namorn rubbed his stomach as it smarted. "Ow! I was just paying a compliment."

  "Sure, sure," Garos laughed.

  "All I'm saying is it wouldn't have been too hard for her to summon some wind to carry us over."

  Garos looked around at the enormous ferns that surrounded them, examining the large fronds.

  "Sure, and everyone including the Rabids would see us coming and use us as target practice. Blowing around like a leaf in the wind isn't what I'd call stealthy."

  "At least we wouldn't be stuck on the side of a mud slope."

  "Stop your whining. It's not mud. See? It's just damp clay. Pass me some of those fronds and follow my lead."

  Namorn reluctantly cut the fronds from the large ferns and handed them to Garos.

  "Leave the top fronds and the pith, Nam. That way they will grow back,"

  "Alright. So what are we doing again?"

  "Weaving. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish," Garos replied, focused on his task.

  Namorn looked confused as he lifted the fern, its silver underside catching his eye.

  "Didn't you pay attention in class? Under, over, repeat. Secure the ends. Tear off some leaves and plait them into rope. We need to make a few of them and then tie them together. Hurry, time is short."

  It didn't take long to weave the ferns into mats, stack them in a neat pile, and tie them together. Namorn looked at Garos, a gleam of excitement in his eye.

  "Your wife is going to kill you."

  "Not if the ride kills me first."

  "You're insane, Gar!" Namorn laughed as he sat down in the makeshift sled.

  "Well, at least we'll get there regardless. Shift back, I'm in front."

  The men pushed off using two large sticks. The sled picked up speed as the slippery clay provided the ideal surface in lieu of snow.

  "You're off course!" Namorn shouted, a tinge of laughter and terror in his voice.

  "No I'm not. The waterfall's to the left!" Garos replied, his hysterical laughter doing nothing to conceal their approach.

  Before Namorn could protest, the small sled broke through the undergrowth and plummeted over the clay bank. The sled fell away as the men pointed their toes and held their arms by their side, their fall broken by the clear water of the lake. Without hesitation, the Rangers swam to the bank and drew their bows, ready for anything they might encounter.

  Garos fought hard to stifle his laughter as he looked at his friend. Namorn shook his head and walked past muttering, "Payback. Yes, I will get payback."

  Garos placed his arm around Namorn's shoulder and squeezed. "Come on, Nam, it wasn't that cold."

  "Cold has nothing to do with it! You know I have a fear of heights."

  Garos laughed and continued walking, his attention on a small bush close by. "I guess you're over it now."

  Namorn took aim at the bush, ready to strike anything that attacked. His eyes began to glow. Smoke wafted from the tip of his arrow as it started to smolder. Garos crept towards the bush. Caution evident in his furtive movements, he pulled the branches apart.

  "What are you doing?" Namorn complained. "We don't have time!"

  "Can't you feel it? Something's frightened in there."

  "Kind of busy at the moment trying to save Aazronians from death and dismemberment, remember? There's no time to empathize with wounded animals."

  Garos smiled as his eyes caught a glimpse of a small pup. Its fur was a mottled mix of black and silver. "It's a silver wolf!" he exclaimed.

  Namorn spun around in fear, bow at the ready, as he scanned the thick brush. "Where's its mother?" he replied, his voice trembling.

  Garos dropped his bow and picked up the frightened pup. It huddled close for warmth. He stroked the long, matted fur and closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts and merging his mind with the wolf. Moments later, he opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face.

  Namorn gave Garos a shove, breaking the mind contact. "Mother's dead then. That's why I don't do that sort of thing; those memories will stay with you forever."

  Garos paused. "It's both our blessing and our curse, dear friend. Druids may communicate nature's will, but Rangers are her guardians."

  "Tell that to the Rabids. Speaking of which, they're closer now. Listen." The flame on Namorn's arrow died down as his magic dissipated. "We have to continue. Bring the wolf. There aren't many left, so I guess we should protect it."

  Garos opened Namorn's pack and placed the cub inside, speaking in a low voice so as not to scare it. "My pack's full, little one. We'll get you home to your new companion soon enough."

  "Come on, Gar. We saved one endangered race. Let's save another."

  As Garos bent down to collect his bow, a small movement from the bush caught Namorn's attention. Namorn stopped without warning and knelt on the ground.

  "Shh, I hear something."

  Garos didn't respond as he stood there, almost blending in with his surroundings. Namorn whispered to him again.

  "Get down. Something's out there."

  He tugged on his friend's hand pulling him down beside him. Garos dropped to his knee, then fell down. A large spear protruded from his chest, splintering into pieces as he hit the ground.