Windsprint circled higher and higher, his eighteen-foot wingspan stretched wide over the unseen column of warm air. The sun was spread low over the western mountains, sending hundred-mile shadows to blanket the forest of autumn colors, but his eyes were blank as the whirlwind of the past few days swirled thickly through his mind. Finally he shook as if waking, the cold air whistling through his feathery blonde hair. He had been staring down for a long time, and as the sun dropped below the mountain peaks he realized that he had to find out what remained under the leafy canopy. He unclenched his jaw and took a deep breath, then folding in his wings he began to dive toward the thin column of twisting grey smoke, grimly realizing that this cold reality was far worse than the nightmare he had imagined only weeks before.
* * * * * * * * *
"Windy, sometimes you can be such a drag."
Windsprint was stung by Benokil's remark, and he felt the last of his good humor dissolve. Fists on hips, he tried to look defiantly into the elf's eyes, but his gaze flicked to the faces of the three others standing on the grassy hilltop. The fire died within him, replaced by a rising tide of despair. Dhavic's mouth was a tight line on his dark face. Glancing away from Windsprint's searching eyes, the heavily muscled warrior squatted and began to aimlessly poke at the weeds with a dagger. The others looked sympathetic, but Windsprint could tell by the set of their bodies that they would travel on regardless. His shoulders sagged, and he actually allowed his feathered wingtips to droop to the ground.
"So you force me to travel through there,” he said dully.
Angrok spoke quickly. "Hey, nobody's forcing you to go into the woods. You could fly over them, you know that!"
Windsprint glared back at the dwarf's wide eyes. "Fly? Sure, I could fly over the trees and let you travel under them, and then what? Meet you in Miding's Gap? I won't be able to rejoin you until you get there, and that'll take you two weeks!" His wings beat angrily. "What am I supposed to do for two weeks? Aerobatic shows again?" He whirled and stomped away, only to halt after a few steps, his brown feathers ruffled across his trembling pinions. He reached up to rub his temples and breathed in shakily, feeling on the verge of tears.
Soft footsteps moved through the dry grass as Cyrella approached to his right. She gazed at him with steady eyes even though Windsprint was obviously embarrassed by the moisture in his. She reached out to brush back his thin pale hair, then busied herself carefully repositioning a group of ruffled feathers on his wing until their satin sheen was smooth and straight. The preening relaxed him and he felt a cool breeze stroke his brow. He looked up at her and sheepishly smiled. She is so beautiful, this human one, he thought. She could have been one of my race, her fiery hair an electric plumage. He let out a slow sigh, then glanced quickly at Dhavic. The warrior's cool eyes met and held his for a moment, then looked down at the dagger impaled in the soft dirt.
Windsprint swallowed and looked away, then at Cyrella again as she stepped back to consider her work. He saw now how her arms were too big, her body too squat for graceful flight, and it always surprised him that she only looked properly in balance when she was dressed, as now, in her battle armor. He felt a fleeting regret that he was not a hulking man with a sword like Dhavic, instead of a fragile quivering half-creature, deerskin jersey hanging loosely upon pipestem limbs. Why did she even pay attention to him, unless out of pity... His thoughts began to pile upon each other, threatening to break the dam of his emotions. With a mental shout he scattered them, then gave a weak laugh.
"It's always the same, isn't it? A big scene, then you calm me down and I wind up going with you all anyway. I don't think I'll ever get used to it." He looked above Cyrella's head and had a sudden urge to lose himself in the deep open sky.
"Hey, look kid, I'm sorry you feel this way." Angrok's gravelly voice startled Windsprint; he had not heard the dwarf approach. "But you know you've always come through for us before. Remember when we went through the Black Mountain Forest? Seventy-two miles we traveled through that, and then you even went into the druidic ruins with us. Four hundred and ninety-seven feet below the surface of the earth! Eyes of stone, that was an amazing place, all those big dark caverns carved out of living rock so long ago..." The dwarf's eyes had focused elsewhere, and a smile played on the edges of his bushy moustache.
"Grok," Cyrella cautioned, looking at the dwarf sharply. She had seen the tremor that passed through Windsprint at the mention of the ruins.
Angrok grunted. "Uh, sorry, Windy." He continued earnestly, "All I'm saying is that you did it before, you can do it again. We all knew when we formed this courier company that we'd have to travel through all kinds of terrain, and anyway, you're usually flying ahead checking things out. The forest isn't that big. And, hey, I know what it's like to be... nervous around strange places. I don't like the forest any more than you do. Heck, all this open space out here gives me the creeps too, I feel like I'm buck-naked to the world. Give me something good and solid to lean against, yes sir, that's where safety is..."
"Good grief, Grok! What lunatic drivel are you babbling at poor Windy now?" Benokil squatted on the other side of Windsprint and shook his head at the dwarf. "Can't you see that every time you try to soothe Windy's fears you only wind up adding to them?" He gave a sudden laugh, more like a shout, and then cried out, "You keep forgetting that it's not the forest itself he fears, nor strange places! It's only when they seem too close to him, when they make him feel confined, penned in, unable to move!" He gestured widely with both arms. "It's the freedom of the great open areas like this that he craves, not your freedom of black scrunched tunnels and granite roofs."
Angrok rested one hand near the gleaming axe at his belt and raised a meaty fist before the elf. "Benny, some day I'm gonna shove a timber down that tiny throat of yours...," he rumbled.
Benokil crinkled his forehead in mock astonishment, then sneered and said haughtily, "I told you I don't like to be called Benny, you scurrilous cretin!"
"My what?" Angrok took a step forward and his finger jabbed towards the elf. "If that was anything about my mother again I'll throw you in a mudhole an' shave off that pretty yellow hair of yours and use it to wipe off my boots!"
"Ha! You and what other worm-kisser?"
"That's it!" Angrok roared, tearing off his gauntlets and throwing them to the ground. "I'm gonna pull your liver out of your nose, you flitting chipmunk eater!" He stomped towards Benokil, who was dancing back and forth on his toes.
"Oh ho! The chase again? Come on, my squat friend, lumber on!" he beckoned playfully, bouncing back a few steps. Then the elf stopped, balancing on one foot as he looked in amazement over the dwarf's head. Angrok nearly closed on him before he heard it too. With clenched fists he turned to see Windsprint nearly collapsing with laughter. His high-pitched whooping and snorting infected Cyrella too, and she began to laugh as Dhavic grinned at them. Benokil calmly lowered his other foot. Angrok cleared his throat and mumbled.
Windsprint held up one hand in pleading, and stammered, "O-Okay, guys." He swallowed hard and tried to regain control. "You...you win. I'll go." He slowly straightened up and grinned widely. "The forest couldn't be any more of a torment than continuing to listen to you two! I'll go." He shook his head in wonder, then looked sideways at Cyrella. Her arms were folded, and she was attempting to hide her smile behind a hand.
Dhavic grunted as he stood and stretched. "It'll be dark soon," he said to no one in particular. "I'll look in at the stable." He began to walk down the hillside towards the village nestled beside the dark winding river. Cyrella looked from him back to Windsprint with a sympathetic smile and started down the slope also. Windsprint stared at her back as she followed Dhavic, his humor swept away by a sense of futility. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the evening breeze, then breathed out sharply and began to walk down the hill.
Angrok picked his gauntlets out of the weeds and gazed after Windsprint, then looked disdainfully at Benokil. "See? A real warrior knows how to face his fear, and not back away from it."
Benokil slung his quiver over his shoulder and snorted. "'Twasn't fear, short one. I just discovered you missed your seasonal bath."
* * * * * * * * *
Windsprint had forgotten how much of a strain it was keeping his wings continually folded tight. Vines and bushes snagged feathers easily, forcing him to hold his wings closed instead of in their normally relaxed position, and now a painful knot had formed between his shoulder blades. Underneath it all was the horse. He had never been able to get accustomed to the rolling gait nor the uncomfortable feeling of his legs stretched wide around its broad barrel. He sighed, wondering why he never remembered afterward how thoroughly he disliked being forced to ride.
The first few days he had performed his duties as always, flying high enough to keep his friends in sight and spot any potential trouble ahead. He had been able to reroute the group away from a washed-out bridge and save them twenty miles in backtracking. Then they had entered the true forest and Windsprint found that not only was it impossible to see either the group or the trail from the sky, but that getting in and out through the tangle of the uppermost branches had become a real trial. It was decided that he would do better remaining on the ground, resuming his reconnaissance once they reached the hills where the forest thinned.
For the past several days Windsprint's nerves had been more on edge than usual, causing him to jump at the least noise. Yet when the elf riding in front of him suddenly whirled in his saddle, an arrow ready in his upraised bow, he could only stare stupidly and wonder what Benokil was up to now. Then the elf fired and Windsprint's heart nearly leapt from his chest as the arrow shot past him and a roaring howl filled the forest. His eyes cast wildly about as the hairy black beasts hurtled from behind the trees, iron and wood swinging from their huge paws as the horses screamed in terror. The battle instantly surged around him, and as he gaped at the manlike creatures he realized that these things were armored, hardened leather wrapped over their chests and around their powerful arms. His horse reared as one creature nearly ran into it, and Windsprint half-dove, half-fell into a thorny bush. He scrambled upright and peered out, seeing Angrok swinging his axe like a windmill as the beasts tried to grab at his horse's reins while pawing at his legs and saddle. Cyrella had leapt off her panicked mount and now had her back against a tree trunk, her shield raised against one attack while her sword clanged furiously off another's weapon.
"Windy, get your wings down!" Benokil yelled from behind him. Windsprint hadn't been aware that his pinions had extended, and he fought down his instinct to intimidate the opponent and lowered them. More arrows flew, both from his friend and from other beasts crouched behind the trees.
Dhavic pulled his broadsword out of the creature before him, and with a circular blow brought it down on another's crown while the first beast was still falling. Hurling himself out of his saddle, he smashed his shield into the rear of one that had cornered Cyrella. Back to back, the two warriors gathered their strength and hewed at the beasts with renewed vigor.
Windsprint looked about helplessly, feeling something rancid begin to crawl up his gullet. He glimpsed the tail of Dhavic's horse as it raced away through the trees, following the other riderless mounts. Benokil crouched to his right, shooting arrows as fast as he could pull them from his quivers. Already two of the other archers had taken lethal shots and tumbled out of sight, but he could see more movement beyond them. Windsprint clenched his dagger and sling, but the entire forest seemed to shake from around and above, and he couldn't keep his eyes still long enough to find a target. Everything was moving in different directions, and then his eyes locked as he saw Angrok's horse scream and collapse, sending its rider sprawling. The dwarf rolled quickly to his feet with a roar of rage, but it was cut short as a blow from behind crashed into his helmet and Angrok dropped like a stone.
Horror crawled over Windsprint's shoulders as he saw the largest of the beasts snatch up the axe from the dwarf's hand and wave it overhead with a savage howl. Then Benokil gave a cry of warning, the long bow dropping as he reached for his sword. Windsprint turned to see another creature roaring down at them both, a huge mace swinging wildly over its head, lips pulled back over ferocious canines that filled his vision. A prickle of fire rushed up his spine and out through his arms. Then the beast and Benokil were gone, dropping swiftly below him.
He thought he heard his name called, then felt the twigs raking at him as he hurtled through the branches. An arrow whistled under his right wing and bounced off a limb just overhead. He banked hard to the left, then pulled up sharply as a trunk loomed. He dove right, then left again, spotting an opening wide enough to allow escape. Beating his wings furiously he rose nearly straight until his body had cleared the top branches. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the treetops spreading in all directions under a wide-open sky. Then two arrows shot past him from the unseen ground. Although they were nowhere near enough to have been a danger, he gave a start and began to skim the treetops.
His powerful wing muscles pumped steadily for a hundred yards or more as he began to rise into the open air. The clang of sword upon shield vanished quickly behind him, the cries and shouts of battle lasting a little longer before fading. Then Windsprint was alone and flying swiftly, gaining altitude to put as much distance as possible between himself and the horrors that had come from the woods; the terrible creatures that had leaped out of the trees and attacked him and his companions. His friends...
* * * * * * * * *
Windsprint glided in a slow circle. The trees had merged into a continuous rolling field of brownish grey with splotches of yellow and orange, broken only by an upthrust ridge several miles to the southeast. A dark line of clouds lay over the northern horizon but he flew in a sunny blue sky, unbroken except for a wedge of geese far to the south, even higher than him. Below him the black spot of a hawk sailed over the forest. It was a scene that Windsprint had dreamed of often as he had traveled, a vision of peace and security that he had longed to see for nearly two weeks. But now, as he moved through the cold air on motionless wings, he saw none of it. He only stared at the woods below him, his thoughts frozen, the only sounds being the wind roaring smoothly over his feathers and the blood pounding with the frenzied beating of his heart.
A sudden updraft tumbled him momentarily, rousing him from his blank reverie. He looked about for the first time, wondering how long he had been circling. Glancing down, he tried to locate the spot he had escaped from. He wasn't sure, thinking it could have been from the grey area just beyond an irregular patch of yellow-leaved trees. It all seemed so quiet now. It always was, up here. His heartbeat had slowed to its normal pace and as his mind began working again a rush of shame struck.
What had happened to his companions? He had no idea. They could be dead now, or captured. What would those armored beasts do with prisoners? A vision of horror flashed through his mind and he shivered and looked down again, a low moan escaping from his throat as he saw a thin column of smoke twisting briefly before being scattered over the spot where he had abandoned his friends.
He wanted to rush down there and call to them, to see if they lived or not, but that brought back the terror of the half-human beasts with their weapons and teeth and the arrows which seemed to fill the air in the dense confining woods. He gasped for air as his wings pushed down and he rose a bit higher, his heart hammering again, the wind stinging his eyes as his vision blurred.
Then remorse and anger filled him, and with an almost physical effort he shoved aside the terrifying implications of his decision. Tucking in his wings, he dove for the forest. The force of wind rushing into his face was like an icy splash of water, and as he slowly pulled out of his plunge to race along the treetops his mind felt clear and alert. A pale flicker of red had been the only guide in his descent, and as he neared the target he cupped his wings to slow his pace. He could smell it now, burnt wood and roasted meat, a strange sickly sweet smell, and then he saw the glowing coals through a break in the treetops. He circled silently once in the darkness, looking for any movement on the ground. Seeing none, he began flapping furiously until he was nearly motionless, and then descended until he could grab hold of a steady branch. He settled, and keeping his wings spread for balance he waited until the tree stopped creaking under his weight, and then listened.
Naked branches creaked and scraped as they were stirred by the breeze. A soft rustle of dead leaves mingled with a background of buzzes and chirps, but he ignored the insects and listened deeper, trying to make out movement, footsteps, maybe metal clanking or low voices, but there was nothing except the occasional pop and crackle from the glowing pile of wood below him. It had been a large fire but was nearly burnt out, its dim light casting the rest of the twilit woods into blackness.
The limbs were uncomfortably close to Windsprint, but he had to get closer. Carefully he lowered himself until he was about ten feet above the ground. Taking another look around and then peering at the dark ground beneath him, he dropped and landed noisily, his foot slipping and knocking him to one knee. He sat still and looked quickly about, his heart beating rapidly as he saw how the forest had suddenly drawn nearer. He glanced behind and then jumped to his feet with a soft cry as the black shapes came rushing silently through the trees. His eyes rolled wildly, then his shoulders sagged as he saw how his shadow was distorted by the tree trunks, outlined in a dark reddish haze. He put both hands to his eyes and gave a nervous giggle, then stopped as he saw the broken shield.
It lay a few feet away, half buried in the trampled leaves. A mace lay nearby, crude and battered, obviously belonging to one of the monsters. Moving around the coals he discovered more signs of battle; a broken bow, another shield, arrows in the ground and embedded in trunks. He reached the shield again, and bent to examine it. In the dim light he saw the intricate design carved around the edge, and the familiar pattern of bronze studs that blackly reflected the fire's glow. Dhavic's shield, now a bent and cracked ruin.
A crash of splintering wood sent him leaping to his feet as a shower of sparks flew up from the coals. His blood pounded savagely in his ears as he looked about wildly, seeing how close the trees were, feeling their nearness as the blackness closed in, clawed branches reaching to block the night sky. Shadows danced between the trunks, and branches moved as he edged closer to the glowing ashes. He glanced at the pile again, then stared as he saw the oddly shaped piece of blackened wood which suddenly was not wood but bone, a shoulder blade, and next to it a skull, ashes still glowing redly in its blackened sockets.
Then Windsprint was up, clawing into a tree, pulling himself up the branches, his wings beating uselessly as he blindly scrabbled for handholds. Branches swayed and bounced painfully on his wings, tearing at his feathers and the leather straps over his tunic. His breath was ragged as he neared the top, the branches becoming too weak to support his full weight. His wingtips crashed repeatedly against sharp twigs as he finally cleared the tops and felt the cool movement of clean air, and he hurled himself away from the forest with a gasp, away from the horrifying bonfire and the death and the suffocating darkness, up into an empty sky wide open to the world.
* * * * * * * * *
Windsprint squatted on a boulder, head and wings drooping as he glumly surveyed the sunlit trees. He had never hated a forest before, but the peaceful beauty that surrounded the rocky bluff only filled him with loathing and despair. Yet he couldn't leave, for where would he go? He had left his northern homeland for friendship and a little fortune, but suddenly it was all gone. He felt like he was at the bottom of a funnel with the world wheeling overhead, threatening every moment to crash down and bury him alive. The whistles and chattering from the forest that once filled him with joy now seemed to be accusing, haunting noises. The occasional cry as some animal met its fate or brought an end to another served only to make him shiver and pull his arms tighter about his shoulders. For two days he had sat here, feeling no desire to move.
I don't care if I ever leave, he thought. I deserve to die here. He lowered his head between his arms and remained motionless for a long time, only the feathers on his back ruffling occasionally in the breeze.
He jerked suddenly awake, aware that something was coming up the hill. Willing himself to be still, he slowly lowered his pinions until the wings lay nearly flat. Two figures moved toward him over the tumbled rocks below. With a cold shudder he recognized the lumbering shapes of the beasts from the ambush, a lifetime and two days ago.
They followed me! Then he berated himself, Stupid! They aren't looking up here, and they sure aren't trying to sneak. Then his heart sank and a whispered moan escaped him as he saw one of them carrying a shining axe, gleaming with chips of blue and gold. He would know that weapon anywhere.
He watched as they moved partially uphill, then breathed in sharply as they quietly walked under the rock face below him and vanished. He sat still for a moment, then an almost physical rush of energy struck him as he realized that just as he had sought this place for a rocky shelter from the forest, so those creatures must have chosen it too.
He sat up straight and blinked rapidly at the implications. The axe. That's a family heirloom. Angrok comes from a proud family. He deserves to be remembered better than... That axe should go back to his family. He absorbed this for a moment, then sprang to his feet and flexed the great muscles between his shoulders, his feathers rippling as he stretched his wings wide. He felt stiff, and he moved carefully about fifty yards to the left before launching himself off the craggy peak. Turning, he passed in front of where they had stepped into a cave, seeing how the walls inside immediately disappeared into blackness. Remembering suddenly how big a target he was, he quickly rose higher above the hill. He watched the cave for any movement or other hint that he might have been seen, but nothing emerged from the hole. He circled a few more times then landed again nearer the opening. He slowly advanced over the loose rocks, never taking his eyes off the entrance. After endless minutes he reached the side of the cave, and breathing deeply and quietly he listened, then peered carefully around the corner. The reckless grin, which had been frozen on his face, melted slowly as his excited heartbeat seemed to stop, then come thudding back hollowly.
He was looking at nothing. Absolute blackness yawned before him, a great void dropping into the mountain, a narrow crack between thousands of tons of crushing stone that burrowed into a place that only lived in his nightmares. Windsprint's mouth went dry, and his breath shuddered as he beheld the cave.
How can I go in there? I could barely fit! If I got trapped I couldn't fly out, I couldn't even flap!
He turned and leaned back into the rock, eyes staring out at the forest. I can't do this. I'm sorry Angrok, oh I'm so sorry. Cyrella...
A cry sounded. He raised his head in disbelief. That was a human voice! Was it female? But it came from... He slowly looked back at the cave, afraid of what he might see. But the blackness was as empty as before. Then it came again, a thin wail echoing out of the hillside, a cry of fear and pain. A child's cry.
Windsprint gripped his hair in his fists, staring madly at the cave. A child! In there?! He recalled his vision of the beast's prisoners and a wave of dizziness passed over him. He put out a hand to steady himself and tried to let his head clear. But nothing was moving through his mind except that echo, sounding over and over inside his skull, but unlike an echo growing louder with each heartbeat. The impulse seized him, and before he could think about it, he stepped into the cave.
Its shadow washed over him, and the echo vanished as if a hand had been clapped over his ears. Total blackness lay before him. He stared for a moment, seeing the dim walls at his side slowly recede as the tunnel emerged from the darkness. He looked over his shoulder for reassurance from the daylight, then back into the cave. Well that was dumb, he thought. He waited a few moments for his eyes to readjust, then slowly began moving forward.
His hands trailed along the dry walls as he advanced. It wasn't nearly as narrow as it had first appeared. Of course not, how could those big things have gotten in here? He moved carefully through the twisting tunnel as the darkness closed in, stepping high to avoid kicking anything hidden on the ground, his wingtips tracing the walls as he felt ahead with his hands. A fit of trembling suddenly washed over him and he stopped, giving in to the urge to look back again at the entrance. He turned around slowly and caught his breath, his heart sinking as he saw how the blackness stayed the same everywhere, even fooling him as to whether his eyes were closed or not.
Oh Windy, you've done it now. What if I passed a tunnel and didn't notice it? I might take the wrong turn on the way out, or I might have missed the right way in! Oh no, I could be trapped... He felt his stomach heave as a cold sweat broke out on his neck and palms. What am I doing here? Get out now...
His head snapped about as a whimper softly bounced off the walls around him. He listened, wishing his heart wasn't beating so loud. It came again, definitely ahead, and then rose to a wail as a rough growl joined the echoes. Windsprint clenched his teeth and breathed deep, then forced his legs forward again. A glimmer of reflected firelight unexpectedly shone off a wall as the tunnel bent before him. He stopped and scanned ahead carefully with the faint vision it lent him, then picked his way quietly as he moved to a corner and peered around it.
The tunnel widened to forty feet, but remained about nine feet high. To his right a smooth grey rock sloped from the ceiling to a still pool of water, at the edge of which a small fire crackled. Its smoke drifted out a crack at the far side of the room, over a careless pile of wood and trash. Movement to his right revealed the two creatures, squatting behind the fire in their stained leather armor. He stared at them, seeing them clearly for the first time. Their heads were bear-like, but misshapen, and they muttered to each other as they pawed through the contents of two rotted cloth sacks.
Windsprint scanned the rest of the room quickly until he saw the child crouching behind the woodpile as if it were a shelter. Its clothing was torn and soiled, and with the matted hair covering a dirt-smudged face it was impossible to tell whether it was a boy or girl, although it looked maybe eight or nine years old. The wild hair almost hid the rope tied around the child's neck, the other end looped over a protrusion of rock higher up the wall. As he watched, the child rubbed its eyes with grimy knuckles and gave a coughing sob as the smoke momentarily wafted over the woodpile. One of the captors glanced up, then turned its attention back to whatever they were sorting.
Windsprint felt a wave of anger pour over him at the sight of the child. He reached for his knife and carefully unsheathed it, then slowly moved out from his hiding place. All his nerves were focused on his eyes and feet as he crept across the floor, his vision constantly moving from monsters to floor to child to monsters and back again. Then he froze as his eyes locked with the child's, staring back in numb disbelief at the approaching apparition. He quickly raised a finger to his lips, and the child's jaw dropped. For a moment he despaired that it would cry out, but the wide eyes only continued to stare at him. Windsprint turned to check the creatures again, and as he did he saw what he had failed to notice before, the crude beds of straw and wood scattered about the edges of the room, seven, eight, maybe more of them in the shadows. More? His eyes refocused on the child, and he saw the glimmer of hope that showed in its grimy face.
Go! He slipped the last few feet to the child and brought the knife against the rope. It sliced through easily, but as the child began to rise the firesmoke twisted again and blew into their faces. The child brought a fist to its mouth and screwed its eyes shut, but Windsprint was caught by surprise. His cough exploded into the cave and the creatures twisted about, slipping on the rocks in amazement as they saw him. The cough echoed away as they stared open-mouthed over the fire, a prickle of fear swiftly rising up Windsprint's back and down his arms.
"Come on!" The child's shrill voice broke the silence as it pulled on Windsprint's arm, moving him back towards the tunnel.
At that the beasts recovered, jumping to their feet. Windsprint's eyes flashed back and forth for an escape, then froze as he saw Angrok's axe lying next to the fire. Swallowing hard, he leaped towards it as one of the beasts also jumped forward. It showed its teeth in a frightful bellow, then skidded to a halt, its snarl faltering. Windsprint had stopped at the roar, but now he saw with bewilderment that the creature was staring at him, mouth agape. He then realized that his wings had opened, and his feathers were ruffled and standing on end.
Trembling in manic terror, he spread his wings wider and raised his arms like claws as he stepped forward. The beasts took a faltering step back. Windsprint, heartened, breathed deep and let out a roar. All of his frustration, disgust, and anger came booming out of him, bouncing off the walls and rejoining itself in a crescendo of rage. One beast's legs collapsed and it fell to the rocky ground, staring in fright as the other stood still with wide, amazed eyes. Windsprint's yell died away, bouncing into the distance, and his mouth twisted into a wild grin as he leaned forward to grab the axe.
The child's warning cry mixed with the beast's scream of rage. Windsprint looked up as the creature hurtled its bulk over the fire. A wash of pure fear struck him, and in desperation he swung his arm up to ward off the attack. He was unaccustomed to the weight of the weapon and struck a poor blow, the axe twisting in his hand and catching the beast with the flat of the blade, but the momentum of its leap made up for his lack of power. A dull ringing came from the axe as the monster landed heavily at Windsprint's feet, groaning and shaking its head. Windsprint whirled to face the other, but it hadn't moved from its seat, its eyes still wide with fear.
"Come ON!" the child yelled, and Windsprint turned and ran after it into the darkness. For endless minutes they groped their way forward until the light from the entrance stabbed at them with welcome brilliance. Stumbling out of the cave, they stood wavering for a moment, trying to see in the blinding daylight.
Windsprint still didn't feel safe. He jammed the axe through his belt, and crouched in front of the child.
"Get on my back. Hands over my shoulders, feet around my waist," he ordered. Grasping the little hands with his own, he started to run downhill, beating his wings furiously. His feet finally left the ground, and they swooped just above the rocks as he dove for speed, then they rose and his wings settled into a steady rhythm as they climbed away from the hillside, up over the treetops and into the sky.
* * * * * * * * *
"Don't gimme any more a' that. I don' wannany more a' that slop!"
The bartender grimaced as he cast a wary eye towards the corner table. Since nothing came hurtling through the air towards the imported glassware carefully arranged on the worktable behind him, he just shook his head and gave a half-hearted grin to one of the regulars sitting at the bar. The customer glanced over his shoulder, and then nodded back at the bartender.
"Dwarves," he said, as if in explanation.
Angrok was very drunk. Benokil watched over his cup of mulled wine as Cyrella wiped the dwarf's spilled drink off the table. The dwarf grumbled and fumed, then reached out and grabbed Cyrella's cup.
"Hey now, stop...put that down!" She tried to stop his arm from raising the drink, but Angrok's face twisted into a spiteful grin as he quickly snatched the cup with his free hand. Cyrella sat back with a sigh and Angrok leaned back to drink, but his smirk gave way to a yelp as the chair legs slipped on the wet floor, tumbling him down with the fresh drink drenching his face and shirt.
Benokil coughed and tried to hold back a laugh, but the wine had gone up his nose and he quickly bent over, his coughs joining the groans of the dwarf who was now rolling under the table, both hands grasping the back of his head.
"Oh, he's hit his head again. Benokil, help me get him up, he's making a mess." The elf waved one hand in affirmation and, still coughing, he and Cyrella managed to get the chair on its feet and Angrok back on his seat.
Benokil wiped his eyes and managed to gasp out, "You there, bring us some more ale! And better make it that cheap stuff you save for the pilgrims." The bartender scowled, but signaled for the waitress. She had been looking out of the window, and turned back with a smile. The sounds of playing children could be heard in the distance.
"Let me see, let me see," Cyrella said as she pried apart the dwarf's fingers to examine his head. "Oh, you just bruised yourself. That spot's still a bit tender."
"Yeah, tender," Angrok said thickly. Then his eyes got wide and his lip began to tremble. "It took m' axe. I slep' with that axe." A tear rolled out of one eye.
"Oh, good grief," said the elf disgustedly. "Even Windy didn't let us see him cry if he could help it."
Cyrella shot him a warning look, but it was too late.
"Win'sprin'? Don' mention that chicken's name ta me! Why if he hadn't tooken off like that they might not've got th' drop on me, an', an'..."
"Knock it off, Angrok!" Benokil said sharply. "You know what his leaving did; we told you why he... probably did it." He made a face and looked at Cyrella. She shrugged helplessly.
"Well, why din't he come back then," the dwarf mumbled, his head dropping to his chest. After a moment he began to snore softly, and the other bar patrons sighed in relief as a relative quiet descended over the room.
The shrieks and laughter of children grew louder in the street, and now became joined with the happy voices of men and women. The bar doors flew open as a knot of people surged into the room on a wave of noise, Dhavic's black hair standing tall above the rest. A woman stepped back to the door to shoo away the children that tried to follow. Dhavic stepped out of the group and looked around the room, then reached back into the center to pull out Windsprint by the arm. He pointed to the corner and shouted, "Hey, look who I found!"
Windsprint's smile wavered slightly as Cyrella and Benokil gaped in amazement. Cyrella recovered first and grinned widely as she stepped through the people to give him a long hug. The kids peeking through the doorway giggled and pointed, and the adults gave each other knowing winks. Then Benokil leapt to his feet and grasped Windsprint's arm firmly, giving him a long look of welcome. Dhavic stood to the side, arms folded proudly as he nodded down at the men who were all asking him questions at once.
* * * * * * * * *
"I was really afraid you would start picking up rocks when you saw me," Windsprint said. They were seated at the table and had been joined by four others, including a town elder and a copper merchant with his wife. The others gave a laugh, and Dhavic said, "I told him he had nothing to worry about."
Benokil said, "Hey Windy, come on. We know how bad it was for you. On the plains or in the air you're great, but under the forest, well, face it, you flipped. But we all know you. We knew the risk when we asked you to come."
A miserable look crossed Windsprint's face. "But I deserted you!" He looked at the men ashamedly and lowered his voice. "I ran away from the battle."
Cyrella said soothingly, "We told you, it's okay."
"But I... When I saw him go down I thought he was dead!" Windsprint gestured at Angrok, whose nose was buried in his elbow, snoring mightily.
"It'd take a lot more than a bugbear's club to split that skull," Benokil observed wryly.
"Bugbears? Is that what they were?" Windsprint said in wonder.
"Bugbears! That makes your feat all the greater, my friend!" said the merchant, copper bracelets jangling as he gestured across the table. He turned to the others. "Have you heard what your winged companion has done?"
The elder leaned forward eagerly. "He single-handedly invaded a nest of those creatures and rescued Torril Nadnia, the son of one of our most respected merchants!"
"My nephew!" cried the woman. Her eyes turned on Windsprint adoringly. "We had thought him lost when the supply train was ambushed. Th-there's been no sign of my brother or his wife." Her eyes lowered.
Her husband placed his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. He looked up at Cyrella and said, "But the boy is alive, thanks to this ma... thanks to Windsprint."
Benokil's mouth twisted into a wry grin as he looked at Windsprint, slowly nodding. Cyrella stared openly at him with a crooked smile, and Windsprint's eyes nervously darted to the tabletop. He blushed so furiously that even his feathers seemed to take on a tinge of red. "It wasn't really a nest of them. Only two..."
"What does it matter?" said the third man loudly. "You have returned with the child. You are a hero, sir! And this town will always remember you."
Benokil's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to point at the others. "You haven't heard the half of it!"
Windsprint stared at him. Cyrella and Dhavic only grinned at each other as the elf continued, gesturing theatrically. "Why, when we were attacked by the bugbears, things quickly looked grim. Then this winged man here leapt into the air, spreading wide those magnificent wings and beating them furiously! You can bet those monsters had never seen a sight like that before. Half of them froze in astonishment while the other half bolted in outright terror! We were able to seize the advantage and save the day, thanks to Windsprint!"
The others had listened in wide-eyed glee, and the third man now jumped to his feet and ran to a group clustered about the bar where an excited babble immediately sprang up. Windsprint, now truly embarrassed, was at a loss for words and could only look at his companions. Dhavic shrugged, and Cyrella softly added, "Well, basically that's true. You certainly put a shock into them."
Windsprint rubbed his chin thoughtfully, remembering the bugbears in the cave. With a puzzled look, he turned to Benokil. "But what about the fire?"
"Hmm? Oh, that was Angrok's idea. He was so unspeakably furious over losing his axe that it seemed the only way to placate him. Savage little beast," he said affectionately.
Windsprint started, then quickly reached down to pick up a bundle from the floor. "I can't believe I forgot this." He carefully unwrapped the axe, and held it up for a moment, unable to resist the open-mouthed stares of his friends. Then he leaned over and gently placed the weapon before the dwarf's sleeping head. Benokil reached forward and shook the dwarf roughly, then sat back.
Angrok grunted and cracked open a bleary eye. It rolled unfocused for a moment, then riveted on the axe blade. The other eye snapped open and his hands clawed forward, grabbing the axe by the haft. Angrok pulled it into his arms, nestling his head over it, and with a contented sigh sank back into oblivion.
Windsprint was grinning from ear to ear. Benokil snickered, playfully slapping Dhavic's arm as he gestured toward the dwarf. Cyrella grinned widely as she reached out to squeeze Windsprint's hand. He smiled back at her, then swallowed rapidly as their hands remained clasped, her green eyes shining at him. He couldn't help it; he glanced quickly at Dhavic. The big man raised an eyebrow, and he looked from Windsprint to Cyrella, then back. Cyrella gently took back her hand, and then turned from Windsprint as the door burst open and a boisterous crowd filled the room. She looked around as their table was jostled, and speaking up over the noise said, "Windy, how about we all get out of here and get some fresh air?"
Windsprint looked about at the sweaty, raucous crowd, then back to her. He shook his head and shouted back, "Go ahead if you want." He settled back, and his body relaxed as the sounds of revelry washed over them. Picking up his mug, he smiled at the others.
"Anybody need a refill?"
* * * * *