Chapter 1: Something Wicked Is Near

 

If I had known what awaited me in the days ahead, I could not have faced them. A foreboding rode the harsh autumn breeze as it drifted down out of the snow-covered Towering Peaks looming above me beyond the woody canopy.

Few things last forever. Empires bud, grow, and unfurl to greatness, only to fade and fall like autumn leaves, scattering in the wind and returning to the dust from whence they came. Even high mountains slowly crumble away, and stars burn into oblivion. But there is one thing I have found that endures when all else fails.

Truth.

It will remain even after the foundations of the earth have crumbled away.

Truth is unwavering. Those who are mighty weave their cunning words to build magnificent monuments to their ideals, some able to last even for a multitude of lifetimes, yet always on rickety foundations of false hopes.

So taught my Qoholet gnomin mentor, Maistren Lilke. “To know what is true takes patience sometimes. Wait and see what does not change. All that is false will tumble away to be scattered. The foundations that remain cannot fail.”

The Towering Peaks looked down from their lofty heights as I leaned against a rocky backdrop among the trees. Nearby lay a scattered pile of rocks that had been an altar to the forsaken god. The more brazen followers did not even hide them anymore. I saw too many of them as I traveled in Lageheim these days.

Night crept into the sky and seeped among the trunks. In my hand rested a small stone. It came not from the altar, but was the one that I carried in my pouch. It seems I pondered it every night since I found it, hoping to discover its secrets.

“The stone is ordinary. Lady Valda confirmed its lack of enchantment. However, the markings are not.” The conversation with Lilke from a few weeks ago replayed in my head. On the stone were ancient runes, four vertical lines with various diagonal lines marked across the vertical ones.

I could not disagree with my gnomin mentor. “Yes, I do not sense any magic either, but I saw the letters glow just before the celestial appeared.”

I found this stone in the lair of a shape-changing gnoll monster. The monster had been terrorizing the Protectorate of Wynchell while eshkin raiders burned homesteads across the region this past summer. The cave had been some type of ancient hideaway, covered with markings from a long forgotten era. After killing the monster, the markings on this stone chip glowed like embers just before my encounter with a celestial being.

“They appear to be letters of an ancient language, no longer written.” The gnomin copied the markings on a scroll and gave back the stone. “My curiosity stirs me just as yours has been. I will see what I can discover.”

It takes humility of heroic proportions to lay hold of what is the truth. A whispery voice invaded my head, bringing me back to the present. You need to hone such traits. Now put your toys away and stop your daydreaming.

“All the stories about griffins leave out how rude they are,” I countered out loud as I looked over at my companion.

We are without guile, which the foolish mistake as rudeness, Rafnir replied. Rafnir, a griffin familiar, came to me as a ranger’s companion after I defeated the gnoll beast and spoke with the celestial being. You prove my point.

Before I could answer him, his thoughts burst into my head again. Be alert! Something hunts overhead.

A low, rumbling roar filtered down through the overhead branches. I leapt to my feet, grabbing my war bow. My sword, Angedon, emanated a silent but intense vibration against my hip. It had never done that before, but somehow I knew what it meant. I remembered what the angelic being had told me in the gnoll’s lair.

Something wicked was near.

The cat-sized griffin flew out of sight as he projected his words into my mind. Yes, just what I feared it might be.

“What do you fear? What is it?” I demanded, but there was no answer, for he was already out of range. Gazing up through the leaves, I tried to get a glimpse of something but was without success. Griffins feared nothing, not even ancient dragons, so it was just a figure of speech; but between the sword and Rafnir’s reactions, I assumed it was something from which everyone else should flee.

Another growl came from farther west. A piercing scream of terror reverberated through the forest from the same direction.

With bow in hand, I raced toward the high-pitched sound.

***

Another scream reached my ears, drowning out a deep roar. What followed was the sound of a horrendous battle, like two mighty beasts tearing each other apart.

A hippogriff. Taken out of the air. Rafnir called. I do not see the rider.

That was the eagle-like screech I heard. But what creature would dare to attack a hippogriff … in the air?

The sounds of battle ended, but now a man’s voice carried through the woods. Deep and growling.

Rafnir! What is happening? What would attack a hippogriff? Was it one of your larger kin? Full-sized griffins will prey on hippogriffs, but no one had seen one in Lageheim in decades.

Do not be foolish, Galieb, Rafnir replied, but said no more.

Rude and irritating. What is happening!? What is it? I screamed in my head as I continued towards the sounds.

Stop! Rafnir planted in my brain, and I froze, dropping to the ground in a crouch. Act like a ranger. Slink up and put an arrow into it. I will claw its face as a distraction.

In the few short months of getting to know each other, we had bonded enough to annoy one another regularly. I followed instructions, seeing the movement of sizable creatures through the trees. And what exactly am I putting an arrow into? What do you suggest? A broad tip? Bodkin? Something on fire?

As I projected my thoughts, the beast came into view over the top of a small hillock. Cords of muscle rippled across its legs and back. My sword gave off a silent vibration again. I crept up behind a tree trunk and pulled a broad-tipped shaft.

Do you not hear its boasting? Now do you see it? Is your ranger training lacking?

I know what it is! Watch its tail!

“Come now, why so faithful?” A growling taunt came from the beast’s throat, speaking in simple Common as it paced around the hippogriff at a safe distance. Its face looked almost human, except for the pale fur and broad lion nose. The mouth stretched wide across the face and seemed filled with needle-shaped teeth.

Both beasts dripped blood from the tears in their torsos. Several long quills stuck out of the hippogriff’s white feathered neck. The hippogriff’s right wing also hung at an odd angle, the bone broken.

“Leave your master,” the beast continued its negotiations. “No one is here to see. Why perish with the human? Look at him. He will not live. Let me feed on his heart, and I will allow you to escape. Maybe you will survive my venom. He certainly will not.”

A low moan came from somewhere behind the hippogriff, which did not move but continued to stand its ground, glaring at its enemy.

A manticore! Here in Lageheim! The idea surprised me.

Another screech escaped the steed’s beak in response to the manticore’s words. Rafnir dove out of the treetops and tore at the wicked creature’s face, avoiding the long, sharp spikes hidden within its heavy lion’s mane.

The shocked beast roared in anger, snapping its jaws and swinging its barbed tail at the small griffin.

My arrow tore through the skin of its bat-like wing before it sank into the manticore’s shoulder. The trees made for a limited target as it paced among the trunks. If not for my elfin blood allowing me to see in the dark, I would never have hit it. I had hoped to take it down in one shot like a deer, aiming for the heart and lungs, but this beast did not die so easily.

The manticore leapt into the air, flapping its wings to gain height. Rafnir went after it as I moved in to find the source of the moaning. I notched another arrow, eyes searching through the leaves and starry sky above me for movement.

Shapes moved about the canopy, but I could not keep track of them. I craned my neck, looking in every direction. Another moan came from behind the feathered hooves of the hippogriff. I turned towards the sound and saw the rider lying in the grass. He faced away from me, his dark hair and beard matted with sweat. Great rents crisscrossed his gambeson. His sword lay unsheathed beside his outstretched right hand. His bow and quiver also lay on the grass.

The hippogriff would not let me near him.

“Easy, my friend,” I cooed. “I am here to help him. The bond with your rider must be strong.”

Watch behind! Rafnir warned.

The manticore swooped down upon me, its furry paws the size of my face missing my head by a hand’s breadth, its fierce, curved claws fully extended. I rolled away with an arrow still nocked in my bowstring, just in the nick of time.

Its tail swiped at me, and I rolled again, coming around into a kneeling position, resetting my weapon and releasing. The beast leaped up, leg muscles bulging as it pushed off the ground, its flapping wings stirring up the crisp brown leaves. My arrow just nicked some loose hanging skin, passing under him to splinter against a tree trunk. I immediate snatched another in my hand and nocked it.

The manticore landed on the other side of the moaning rider, staying out of the reach of the hippogriff. The predator’s front left leg faltered as it landed, my first arrow still embedded against the shoulder blade.

“Foolish man!” It cursed at me. “You are no match for me. My venom and my claws will overcome you all before this battle is over! Already it works its way through the blood of my victims.”

Despite its boast, a massive paw stretched forward in an attempt to snag its victim and flee. The hippogriff screeched in protest, but with less strength than before. It hopped forward warily and snapped with its beak, but avoided the sharp claws of the manticore.

The miniature griffin attacked again, dodging the dextrous swipes of the barbed tail as Rafnir tore at its wings.

Rafnir! Did it hit you with a barb? Move back! I don’t want to release with you there.

Now ranger! Rafnir yelled in my mind.

Rafnir circled away as my arrow sunk deep into the mane of the manticore.

A roar of rage escaped, telling me the point pierced the neck. Blood slowly soaked the long dark fur, matting it together in clumps.

The beast faltered, muscles bulging and tense as if ready to pounce, hatred in its eyes.

I shifted to my left, testing a new spell my Mentor Devarim, taught me. Known as the ‘marksman,’ a tiny glowing spot formed on the beast as I concentrated, exactly where I envisioned it. My silver arrow of vows sank deep into its ribs at the glowing target as if drawn to it. The manticore stumbled, trying to crawl away as Rafnir raked its wings again.

It snapped at him with its large gaping mouth and needle teeth, hissing curses. It collapsed onto its belly, breathing heavily, blood trickling out of its nose and mouth.

I knew its lungs filled with blood. Within less than a minute, its almost human eyes glassed over as it breathed its last.

Remain alert. Manticores sometimes travel in pairs, Rafnir warned, scanning the tree tops.

Once I confirmed it was dead, I moved towards the rider. “It’s Jarman!”

I met Jarmin this past summer in Wynchell during the battles with eshkin raiders.

The hippogriff protested, stepping closer, its eyes wild.

“Easy, boy! Your name is Bissig, right? Remember me? We fought eshkin together a few months ago.”

I called to the griffin. “I need to help Jarmin, Rafnir!” Turning back to the hippogriff, I coaxed, “Where are your partners? Kean and Heftig?” There was no change in the creature, but it did not snap or claw at me.

Hippogriffs are not the brightest, but taste good. Rafnir commented.

“How would you know?” I answered. “Enough of that. It is not helping. Can you speak to it? Get it to back off?” Rafnir did not respond, but flew up between us, which seemed to unnerve the creature enough to step back.

Jarman passed out of consciousness, so I slipped past his steed and kneeled beside him. The hippogriff let me by this time, but his sharp beak overshadowed my head closer than I preferred. Two quills sat deep in Jarman’s body. I grasped one and tried to pull it out, but the smooth surface slipped through my fingers as it held fast, the minuscule barbs tearing at the skin of my fingers.

“Barbed like a porcupine quill. They won’t come out easily, but we need to stop the venom from seeping into his blood. I need a clamping tool, or perhaps I can cut them out with a knife.”

I unsheathed my dagger, but Rafnir landed beside me and grasped a quill in his beak. One by one, he pulled them out, tearing the wounds as they came.

“Careful! Watch the venom at the tips!” I flicked them away as he dropped them.

Prepare your healing berries. Perhaps it will strengthen him enough to survive. Rafnir said as he finished.

But how will I administer them? He keeps slipping out of consciousness. Paladins and clerics and even some rangers could heal by laying on hands, but I had not learned such spells. The healing pearls brought healing and added nourishment, but is this situation, they may be useless.

Galieb, he will die if you do not find a way. A high dose of the manticore’s venom runs in his blood. Have you considered calling out to the Yett Sorr, who sent you His messengers?

I prepared a comfrey leaf for the spell. Soon, ten bluish-white pearls sat in my hand. I mumbled a prayer to the God who had sent the celestial to the cave. Maybe it will help.

Forcing his mouth open, I fed them to Jarmin one at a time. I crushed them between his teeth and worked his jaws to activate the saliva, hoping to stimulate the magical effects. Instinctively, he chewed some himself as consciousness came and went. Using what herbs and supplies I had in my kit, I cleaned and covered his wounds as well. Part of my survival training as a ranger among the Qoholet included mundane healing arts and herbal remedies.

Some of the claw marks on his body will require sewing if magical healing is not an option. I said to Rafnir. One thing at a time, however. There is nothing I can do about the venom except to watch for swelling. Maybe the magical berries will help to minimize the effects.

Just in case, I loosened his clothing and removed his vambraces. Taking off my cloak, I covered him with it. The chill night air brought goosebumps to my neck.

Thankfully, his breathing steadied, but otherwise he did not revive. As we tended him, the hippogriff’s legs gave way, and it tumbled off its feet.

“Venom weakens his poor steed, too, Rafnir. Can you get out its quills? I will make more berries.” The small griffin landed on the hippogriff’s back, which brought out a small screech and a twisted snap from the beast. This kept Rafnir from reaching the quills. He did not like having a griffin on its back, no matter how small.

Now how will we get the quills out and feed these berries to this creature without getting my hands bitten off?

“See these?” I lifted my hand palm up where its eye could see. “They will help bring healing. Do you understand?”

The left pupil followed me as I stood there, eye to eye with it as it lay on the ground. Its beak opened as if to give what I would call a pant or perhaps a protest, so I popped a few pearls down its throat. The beak snapped shut again. I waited and got a few more down. I ended up eating the last three since I missed supper and did not know what I would still need to do this night. Three will give me the nourishment I need. The quills will have to wait until we figure something else out.

As I knelt to check on Jarmin again, another sizable shape passed overhead above the canopy.

Not another one!