Authors: Flank Hawk
“Now, into the water,” said Lilly. “With the current, it’ll get deeper. Along the bank, there’s a big cottonwood, overhanging. Under it some animal dug a burrow. Right now the hole is under the water.”
I nearly slipped on the slick bottom. The water rushing past my thighs pushed me along. Lilly, although shorter, appeared steady, using my spear for support.
She pointed. “See the tree?”
In the moonlight I did. “Yes.” It grew at a dogleg turn in the river’s course. The hounds’ baying sounded closer.
“Okay, it gets deep here. Swim. Grab the roots below the water.”
I wasn’t sure why I trusted the girl. She was young, no more than fifteen.
“Here,” she said, holding onto a stringy root.
I grabbed a thicker one and hung on against the river’s pull.
“You might have trouble with your crossbow fitting through.”
“I’m not giving it up.” I said and unslung it. “I’ll push it in ahead of me.”
“It goes in about ten feet then angles up. You go. I’ll follow and leave your spear in the tunnel.”
The hounds were close, their baying hardly more than two hundred yards away. They must’ve reached where we’d run parallel to the trees. I held my breath and went under. The burrow’s hole was easy to find, but harder to squeeze into. The slick mud and tight fit tugged at my protruding sword hilts. It was pitch black when I came up, thankful none of my equipment got hung up on the dangling roots.
I slogged forward using my elbows and forearms. Pushing my crossbow slowed me. The tunnel was too small to crawl on hands and knees. Away from the river the soil went from slick to damp and clingy. The tunnel angled upward and to the left before opening up. I felt around and sat hunched under the low ceiling. Only then did I wonder what I’d have done if the creature that dug this burrow had been inside. I shook my head, knowing that certain death hunted me outside.
I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Lilly came in right behind and pressed up against me. “Hold still,” she whispered, climbing around of me. “There, I plugged the air hole for now.”
“What?” I whispered back.
The burrow was a tight fit for both of us. “The hole leads up into a dead tree,” she said. “But your scent might escape. Shhhh. They were back where you pushed the log in.”
A musky scent hung in the damp air. The burrow’s owner had stacked reeds, roots and dried fish along the wall, or so my nose and hands told me. I thought I heard muffled baying and felt vibrations of pounding ogre feet pass overhead.
I began to shiver, more from being cold and wet than anything else. I wasn’t sure if Lilly was cold, but she shivered too when the ogres stomped overhead.
After about five minutes, Lilly removed the mud-patch plug, letting in fresh air.
“What kind of animal made this hole?” I asked. “And how did you know it was here?”
“My father fished along the river. I sometimes went with him. Last fall we saw a giant river rat. The tree made it easy to remember where its burrow was.”
“How did you know it wasn’t in here?”
“The men of the village caught it this spring.”
“Only one rat?” I asked, thinking it unusual.
“I ran and hid here when the zombies and goblins came.” She couldn’t see my face in the darkness, but must have guessed at my skepticism. “Wouldn’t you?”
When I didn’t say anything she said, “I guess you wouldn’t. You’re a mercenary-enchanter.”
After a long moment of silence I replied, “Not exactly. But our hiding here kept you alive.”
“I have a lean-to shelter on the other side of the river,” she said. “Now that the goblins watch the bridge it’s harder to get back and forth. With the dragon earlier, I decided to stay on this side tonight and not cross back over through the shallows.”
As I listened I realized how exhausted the day’s flight had left me. Thinking about sleep reminded me of the Blood-Sword. The prince said it could possess people. Did it try to take control of me? While trying to decide what to do, I dried and oiled my short sword. It wasn’t easy in the confined burrow with Lilly leaning against me in my soaked armor.
I decided to wedge my helmet under a root near the floor and jam the Blood-Sword’s hilt under it.
When it sounded like the hounds were gone I said, “Thank you for helping me. We should get some sleep.”
“Will you tell me your name?”
I chuckled at her insistent voice. “My friends call me Flank Hawk.”
2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee
Two aging freighters, one in Los Angeles Harbor and one in Boston Harbor, rested quietly, each tied to their assigned pier. Packed beneath cargo pallets of cheap plastic dinosaurs and stuffed Easter bunnies, digital timers counted down until they read 00:00:00. The two chain reactions commenced within the hydrogen bombs, adding their thermonuclear explosions to those of the sub launched missiles. Within an eighteen-second timeframe, four mushroom clouds plumed skyward while heat, radiation and electromagnetic pulses radiated outward.
I slept on top of the Blood-Sword with my back against the root-lined wall. Wet armor combined with the stuffy air made it even more uncomfortable. Lilly slept tucked up against me, murmuring and whimpering. I knew the magnitude of my worries and couldn’t bring them down upon her. Only once while laying and pondering now to reach Sint Malo did I hear an ogre bellow in anger. I put off worrying about finding Belinda the Cursed and getting the Blood-Sword across the ocean. If Road Toad were here, I thought, he’d have translated what the ogre had said.
After several anxious moments wondering if the hounds would pick up my scent, I dozed off, trying to decide what Road Toad would do if he were in my place.
I awoke with a start. Lilly wasn’t lying against me. She’d left the burrow. Hunched over, I wondered how long she’d been gone while I pulled on my damp socks and boots. Bird songs filtered down through the air hole, telling me I’d slept past sunrise.
In a way I felt relieved that Lilly was gone; I could strike out on my own without argument. Climbing out meant getting soaked again, but I’d have to find my way across the river anyway. I’d settled on traveling south, away from the guarded bridge. With any luck the night underground set my pursuers on a false trail. Still, there were dragons.
I chewed on a cattail root left by the river rat. I considered removing my armor and wrapping it tightly to avoid soaking it through when I crawled out the water-filled exit, but the possibility of an ogre patrol made me unwilling to risk it.
If there were ogres above, did Lilly evade them? Only one way to find out. Helmet donned, swords strapped on and crossbow in front, I crawled out to the river and into the sunlight.
My heart sank upon seeing a dragon circling about a mile to the north. I held my breath and floated underwater downstream before scrambling up the bank and into the trees.
Lilly stood with my spear under the cottonwood above the burrow’s entrance and waved to me. Her short brown hair was far darker than her stained sackcloth clothing. Somewhere she’d found a tattered wool vest.
I signaled Lilly over to me. I didn’t want to leave my scent any closer to her hiding place than I already had.
She leapt through the undergrowth, keeping beneath the cover of nearby trees. “Did you see the dragon?” she asked, pointing. When I nodded she offered my spear. Her deep brown eyes and weak chin stood out on her round face. “Here. Good thing you didn’t come out fifteen minutes ago. It was right overhead.”
I took my spear and nodded. “I agree. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“When I whispered to you, you didn’t answer.” She looked southwest, across the river. “They tore up my shelter. There wasn’t much to steal.”
I checked the sky for the distant dragon before examining my spear for signs of rust. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You risked your life and lost what you had.” I concentrated on my spear, not wanting to meet her eyes as I spoke. “I know this won’t repay you for the risk you took.” I reached under my breastplate to the pocketed fold in my dripping armor where I kept my coin pouch. “Here’s four silver.”
She gasped, then said, “You keep it. We’ll need it.”
“We?” I asked. “We part ways here.”
“You don’t know where to cross. And I can help you.”
“Where I’m going it’s too dangerous. Just tell me where, and when the dragon’s gone I’ll cross.”
“It’s just as dangerous here,” Lilly said. “Goblins and dragons.” She pulled her stout-bladed dagger. Although the blade appeared well oiled, someone had neglected it in the past, leaving it pitted with rust. “My father showed me how to use this.” Grim determination shined in her eyes.
“Against a goblin, yes.” I shook my head. “A mudhound, ogre or dragon? Maybe even souled zombies and sorcerers?”
“I’m not afraid,” she said, standing straight.
I knew she was strong, like anyone that labored in the fields. “Then, Lilly, you don’t understand the danger.” How could I get her to understand? I simply said, “It frightens me.”
She started to laugh until she saw I was serious. “You’re a mercenary. An enchanter with a magic sword.”
I looked around and spotted a thick stand of brambles that offered better concealment. I signaled with a flick of my head for her to follow. “I’m no enchanter. But I am a mercenary. And a sword with a ruby that glows is little use against a dragon’s icy breath.”
“Why didn’t you draw your magic sword against me last night? You were going to but didn’t.”
“Look,” I said, again offering Lilly the coins. “I intend to travel fast, into certain danger.” I couldn’t bring myself to admit I’d probably die before reaching my goal. I rested my palm on my sword’s pommel. “You can’t go with me.”
“I can keep up with you,” she said, insulted. “Are you going to war? Mercenary camps have followers.”
“You’re no camp follower,” I said. “You don’t want that life.”
“I can serve only you,” she offered. “Cook, clean your weapons and armor.” Her voice took on a pleading tone. “I know how.”
“I’m not going to war.”
“Why do the hounds track you? Did you steal that magic sword?”
“You can’t go with me,” I said, trying not to shout.
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I have nowhere else to go.”
The Necromancer King’s forces would only increase as his hold on the Faxtinian Coalition grew. Eventually the goblins, ogres or worse would catch Lilly, and I didn’t want to think what would happen then. Maybe she could carve out a life for herself in Sint Malo. That’s what I told myself. That, and the fact that she would follow me anyway. Deep down I feared I accepted her company because I wanted someone to share the burden of the prince’s quest and the Blood-Sword.
An hour later, after hiding from two goblin patrols, one on foot and the other in canoes, Lilly led me across the river. When Lilly demonstrated she could more than keep pace, some of my guilt subsided as we trotted west.
“How did you get that scar?” Lilly asked me as she severed another frog’s leg and skinned it. Her dagger was old and abused, but sharp. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Guzzy’s dirk.
The fire heated the flat rock held above it by two other rocks. As Shaws taught me, I selected wood that burned hot without giving off smoke.
Travel during morning and early afternoon had been slow, avoiding occasional farmers in their fields and travelers hurrying down the muddy roads like mice watching for snakes. We even passed through the remains of an enemy camp. I told Lilly it looked like a brigade of goblins and ogres spent a week on the hillside overlooking the now ravaged village.
“You sure are good at spearing frogs,” I said, watching the dozen pairs of legs cooking. Lilly’s lightning reflexes left the spotted croakers no chance. She made my efforts appear bumbling.
“The one on your cheek,” Lilly said, pointing. “Did you get it in combat?”
She was persistent. I knew the conversation would eventually get around to my magical sword. “A goblin’s spear,” I said. “I was trying to get past him to reach the officer I was assigned to protect.”
“Did you?”
I turned the legs with a flat stick. “I reached him.”
Lilly wiped her dagger across her skirt before sheathing it. “Is he still alive?”
I scratched my neck and listened. The stand of evergreen bushes offered concealment, but didn’t allow me to watch for danger. “Last I saw him, he was.”
“Did he sew up your wound?”
“No, Road Toad did.”
“The mercenary veteran.” She nodded, looking at my face. “He did a good job. Is he dead?”
“Not last I saw him.”
“Why do you have the magic sword and not him? Or your leader?”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked, turning the frog legs once more.
“One brother. My father sent him off when it was time.” She stared at me. “I don’t know where he is.”
“When it was time?” I asked. “Time to apprentice?”
She shrugged. “What’s the most dangerous foe you’ve faced?”