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Authors: Doug Dandridge

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The third goblin tried to fumble at his pants
with one hand, draw a sword with the other, and scream an alert.  He failed at
the first two, but was able to get out a yell before his own windpipe was
flooded with his lifeblood.

“Crap,” she mumbled, sheathing one of her short
blades in an instant and drawing her sword, sure that she would need it. 
Grunting speech let her know that she was correct, and the sound of clumsy
footfalls rushing through the brush told her there were many of them.  A couple
of steps and she was away from the scene of death, hidden again in the brush.

A half dozen goblins ran into the battleground,
staring at the bodies on the ground with an explosion of their barbaric
speech.  She could hear others moving through the brush.  She stayed in a low
crouch, balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to strike in any direction.

A goblin came out of the brush and into her
view.  She sliced out with her sword and that goblin fell to the ground minus a
head.  She stepped to the side and disappeared again, then came up behind
another, finishing this one with her dagger.  The Assassin faded back again, her
ears queuing her in on where the enemy was.  A report came through from one of
her other assassins, then another, and she saw that they were also bleeding the
enemy.  Now, if only the scouts would come up and hammer them before she lost
someone.

Grunting speech erupted from several places,
where she had left the bodies.  She could smell the fear on the creatures, and
hear the quiver in their monstrous voices.  She smiled, knowing that she now
had them.

Another two kills and she stumbled into the
situation she was hoping to avoid.   She moved on another lone goblin, and had
just pushed her blade through him, when three more came bursting from the brush
and ran at her.  She knew this was not good the moment they appeared.  All had
leather armor that would not do much to stop her enchanted weapons.  But they
did have wooden shields with metal strapping, and barbed swords.  And she could
hear more coming her way.

The Assassin decided to do what they didn’t
expect, and ran toward the goblins, taking four short quick steps while her
sword licked over the shield of the middle goblin and plunged into his throat.  A
barbed sword was swung at her shoulder, and she had to twist furiously to make
it miss.  She continued the twist, her blade slashing across the face of the
third goblin.  She continued the motion and leapt into the air, flying back
five meters, recovering facing the two goblins, one coming at her, the other
holding a hand over eyes, the blood flowing from between his fingers an indication
that his vision was gone.

Two more goblins appeared, these with spears,
pointed at her as they moved ahead, jabbing with their weapons. 
The hells
with this
, she thought, taking two steps back and turning in a spin,
stepping into a run as soon as she faced the right direction.  One spear came
flying over her shoulder, the head slicing through her clothing and scratching
her flesh.

Shouting and the clash of arms sounded from
behind, and she knew the Ellala scouts had finally entered the action, taking
advantage of the distraction the assassins had provided.  She turned, waiting
for her pursuit to catch up.  After some moments she realized there was none
coming, and she started walking back the way she had come.

“Down with that bow,” she told the Ellala scout
who was pointing a crossbow at her.

The soldier gave her a suspicious look for a
moment before he lower the bow and the bolt was no longer pointed at her.

“My Lady,” said the officer in charge of the
scouts.  “We didn’t lose a man, thanks to your people.”

“You took your time,” she said in an angry tone
to the officer.  “Don’t allow so much time to pass before you come to our aid. 
Not if you want to survive this mission.”

She turned her back on the dumbfounded officer
and walked away, feeling the sting of her shoulder as she moved.  It was not a
major wound, but it was still uncomfortable.  And any injury was to her a
slight to her prowess.  To allow such as these lowly creatures to injure her. 
And she laid part of the blame on the sluggards who didn’t come to her aid in
time.  Glassini was not a forgiving sort, and she was already thinking about
her revenge.

*     *     *

“The prisoners say they have no knowledge of
such a place,” said the Death Priest to the Marshal.

He was about to ask the Priest if he were sure,
then thought better of it.  Of course a lowly creature like a goblin couldn’t
resist the will of such a powerful Priest of Bothar.

“Then we will move on, and hope we can catch
others who have a better idea.”

“And these?” asked the Priest, looking down at
the trio of cowering goblins.

“Take their life force, or behead them, or burn
them alive,” he told the Priest.  “I don’t care which, but just get rid of
them.”

The Priest smiled and started toward the
goblins with his staff in the air.  The goblins started squealing in terror. 
The Marshal turned away, not interested in watching the gruesome deaths of the
creatures.  He knew that the Death Priest was enjoying himself, and that too,
made him sick.

I know I’m not a good man
, thought the Marshal,
climbing into the saddle of his horse. 
I serve dark people, and the dark
Gods they serve.  But even I am not that dark
.  He wondered if that would
mean anything when he died, and his soul was consigned to the hells of the
Death Gods.

Chapter Ten

 

 

The sun was high in the sky by the time they
got their party ready to move.  White Paw was scouting ahead, a better point
than any Kurt had ever seen.  Not only was the neowolf blessed with sight as
good as any Ellala or Conyataya, but his ears and nose were an order of
magnitude more sensitive.  There was nothing the wolf would miss.

Listening to the men moving with them along the
path he was happy to have the wolf ahead.  There were sixty-two former rowers
and seamen along with them, as well as the twenty-one Nord knights and the
companions Kurt had brought along.  The knights moved well enough in their
chain armor, their plate left behind as unsuitable for movement cross country
on foot.  But the seamen and rowers were not very good marchers.  They made too
much noise, even in light armor, cursing every step of the way and calling for
frequent breaks.

“I don’t know if it was a good idea bringing
these men with us,” said Fenris, walking next of the Immortal.  “We will never
get them to this temple, or whatever it is.”

“I would rather have the fighting men along
until we get to a point where they can’t go,” said Kurt.  “We don’t know what lies
ahead.”

“But, we may be leading them to their deaths.”

And I know that’s a shit thing to do to these
men
,
thought Kurt, looking away from the Ellala warrior. 
I have done it before
in a bad cause, leading men for that ass Hitler.  And I will do it now, in a
good cause.  And I will have nightmares about it, and see the faces of these
men in my dreams, just like the men I led in Russia.

“We need them, my friend,” he told the Elf,
looking back.  “And I will do penance in whatever manner the Gods demand.”

Fenris did not look happy with the answer, but
he gave a human head nod of acceptance.

He’s led men into danger as well
, thought the
Immortal. 
He understands, even if he doesn’t like the consequences.

“And just how do we find this thing?” asked
Jackie, striding easily in her chain armor just behind the pair.

“We depend on our thief,” said Kurt with a
smile, looking at the Halfling who was walking with quick steps to keep up with
the longer legged companions.

“And how will he find out?” asked Jackie,
raising an eyebrow.

Xenonodes looked back at the humans and Elf
with a smile in his eyes.  “Finding it just means finding someone who knows
where it is.  Once we know that, we’ll ask him”

“You’ll just ask, whoever his person is,
wherever he is?” asked a disbelieving Jackie.

“Why, yes,” said the Thief.  “When we find
them, I will ask them, and then we will know.”

Jackie shook her head in disbelief.  Kurt
smiled at the irrepressible Halfling, who seemed so sure of himself. 
Does
he have reason to be so confident?  The Goddess would not have put him in our
path if he couldn’t deliver, would she.

[Friend Kurt.  I have people ahead,] came the
mind link from White Paw.

[What kind of people?]

[Humans, my friend.  The same kind as many of
those who accompany you.  Including females and cubs.]

[Keep them under your eye, my friend.  But do
not let them harm you.  When we approach, send thoughts of calm and friendship
their way, so at least their mind speakers won’t react with haste.]

“Hold up,” he yelled  out to his men.  “White
Paw says there are Nords ahead.  Obviously natives to this region, and most
likely survivors fled from our enemies.  And we may find allies.”

The seamen and the knights all stopped in
place, and the noise of walking died to an occasional rattle of equipment, though
the sound of conversation increased.

“Jackie, Fenris, Master Xeonodes, if you would
please follow me.  Let’s go meet our hopefully new friends.”

“Told you,” said the Thief to Jackie, winking. 
“It always happens when you are looking for something.  They just seem to come
from nowhere.”

“I need to come with you,” said Sir Gromli,
running up in his ringing chain mail to catch them.

“I’m not sure if approaching them with too many
people would be a good idea,” said Kurt, looking into the face of the Knight.

“I speak their language,” said the Knight,
standing firm.  “You have no guarantee that they speak any that you know.”

“I don’t converse in the dialect of Nord they
speak in this Gods forsaken land,” said Xeonodes, looking up at Kurt.  “We
better bring him along.  I’m sure we can keep him under control long enough to
talk with the barbarians.”

Gromli shot the Halfling a killing look, which
the Thief returned with an expression of nonchalance.

“Come along, then.  But this is it for the
contact party.”  Kurt turned and walked to where he knew White Paw was located,
the others following close behind.

“We come in peace and respect,” called out
Gromli to the hidden Nords, then turned and told Kurt what he had yelled.

Someone yelled something back, and Gromli
called out in the same language.

[Open your mind to us, Gromli, so we can follow
the conversation,] sent Kurt.  The Nord nodded and everything came through as a
translation from then on.

“How do we know you are not with those who
slaughtered our people?” had been that last call from whatever Nord was the
spokesman for the group.

“There are only a few of us here, to talk with
you,” called out Gromli.  “If we wanted to harm you, we have an army behind us. 
It would do you well to talk with me, and see that we are not like those who
attacked you.”

“Very well,” said the man, and stepped out of
the brush to confront the newcomers.  He was a well-made man, tall and strong,
white hair and beard against white skin, wearing scale mail armor and a helm. 
On his left arm he carried a wooden shield painted in a design like a dragon,
while his right hand gripped the haft of an ax.

“I speak the language of the pointed ear ones
from across the sea,” said the man, pointing his ax at Fenris.  “As a younger
man I learned to speak with the captives we took at sea.”  He hit the hand
holding the ax against his chest.  “I am H’rrut, headman of the village the
invaders attacked.  I was on my farm with my sons when the Ellala cowards came
with their magicians and evil priests and overwhelmed what were left of my
warriors.”

“And you did not stay to fight?” said Kurt,
noting that the man was old, something he had not noticed at first look.

“I thought it would serve no purpose to die
when I had family to protect, and other villagers that had come to me for
protection.  So we fled the village.  And what are you here for?”

“We pursue those who have destroyed your
village,” said Kurt, stepping forward with his hands held up.  “We do not
worship their Gods, and we do not desire your lives.  But they are on the quest
for evil artifacts that could tilt the balance in their favor in a war we fight
on another continent.  If they win, they will also come here, in force, and it
will be the end of your freedom, if not your lives.”

“And what will you do if you find these
artifacts before them?”

“We will destroy them.  Or, if that is not
possible, we will take them back with us and seal them up in the darkest pit we
can find.”

“I am not sure I believe you,” said H’rrut,
staring at Kurt for a moment.  “By the Gods, what kind of a man are you?  You
appear human, but I have never seen one with yellow hair and beard over brown
skin.”  He looked at Jackie and the frown deepened.  “Or one like your woman.”

“We come from another world to this one, with
many of our people.”

“He is the one from the prophecy,” called out
Gromli.  “The noble from another world who will come to free us from the
Emperor of Evil, the men those who destroyed your village, and killed your
raiders, serve.”

“I would like to believe that,” said the big
Nord, giving Kurt a sideways glance.  “But how do I know you speak the truth.”

[Do you mind speak,] sent Kurt, not sure if he
would get a response or not.  Most of his own people had turned out to be
telepathic on this world, to a much higher proportion than all the native
races.

[Aye,] came back the transmission.  [I am one
of the few in my village who could.  And I have never encountered one as strong
as you.]

White Paw stepped from the brush and sent a
signal of his own to the dumbfounded man.  He turned and stared at the big
wolf, who returned his gaze levelly.  [These beasts also came with us to this world. 
I am sure you will agree he is unlike anything you have ever heard tell of.]

The man stood there for a moment, and Kurt
could detect the confusion in his thoughts, then a surge of sureness.  He
opened up his thoughts to the man, and showed him parts of his life on Earth. 
Images of war and peace, life and death, on a world so foreign to the
sensibilities of the native that he had no words to describe much of what he
saw.

“I believe you, King Kurt,” said the Nord.  “We
too worship Life, even if our harsh land forces us to take it from others to
preserve our own.  But we do not take it indiscriminately.  Will you protect my
people?”

“There are a hundred men we freed from the
lives of galley slaves, under the command of a Nord sea captain,” said Kurt.  “Your
people will be safe with them, while we pursue those who attacked you.”

“Do you know where the temple of the artifacts
is?” asked Xeonodes in Ellala.  “A place of great evil, not trod by the foot of
mortals for many ages.”

“Aye, little man,” said the Nord, looking down
on the Halfling.  “I know of this place.  Keep my people safe, and I and my
sons will lead you to it.”

People started coming out of the brush.  At
first it was young men, mostly still boys, gripping axes and bows.  They were
followed by almost a hundred others, women and children, young girls, babes in
arms.  Two of the young men, looking to be just out of adolescence, walked to
stand by the side of the leader.  “These are Srong and Linder, my two youngest
sons.  Their brothers were to go raiding this year, and I am sure they met
their fate in the camp.  They also know where the ruin lies, as they have seen
it on long hunts into the territories of the Grogatha.  If something happens to
me, they will show you the way.”

“Told you,” said Xeonodes, looking at the
taller people around him.  “I seem to be blessed by the Gods to find what I
need.”

“A thief,” said Garios in a scandalized voice. 
“And you think the Gods would aid such as you.”

“Us thieves have gods, Priest, same as the
assassins, though ours are much less interested in blood.  Remember that next
time someone breaks into one of your warded temples and takes some of your
treasure.  In some circumstances, my God is more powerful than yours.”

And with that the Halfling walked off, leaving
the incredulous dwarf to stare after him.

“I’ll take any God we can get,” said Fenris,
his eyes following the dwarf.  “To me, the most important god is the one who is
helping me at the time.”

*     *     *

“We make camp here for the night,” said Marshal
Ellisandra, looking at the flat area in the middle of the valley they had been
marching up, heading west.  “Have your men set up a perimeter around the tents
and set your watches.”

“Aye, my Lord,” said the officer in charge of
his infantry, rendering a salute and running off to get his men working.

“They are tired from walking all day,” said the
Death Priest, Jakisanda Millistara, looking at a group of infantrymen putting
up their tents.  “They did not have enough to eat either.”

“We must ration our food until we can assure
ourselves of another source,” said the Marshal.  “Our hunters will scour the
area for game.  Until then, they will eat what I give them and continue on. 
They’re soldiers, and they will do what is asked of them.” 
And a priest of
life would serve us much better at this time than your ilk
, he thought,
looking at the Ellala in his dark robes. 
But no life priest would serve us,
especially on a quest like ours.  They would rather die, and go to their Gods,
than serve evil like ours.

“What do you want of mine?” asked the Master
Assassin, looking as fresh as she had before the fight against the goblins this
morning.

“One of yours will be on patrol throughout the
night, outside our perimeter,” he told Glassini.  “I expect that nothing will
get past those with your training without us getting us warning.  The rest of
you can get some sleep.  I leave it up to you to set your own schedule.”  He
knew that the Master would take the most odious watch.  It was just her way,
and a caring for her own, something he had trouble reconciling with her
profession. 
But I guess the rumors are true about her guild, harsh rules,
but also family to their members.  She treats her assassins like children,
while she is the disciplinarian mother.

The hunters brought in a trio of deer and a
pair of wild pigs that evening.  Later that night all of the party had eaten
their fill, and those lucky enough to not be on watch were soon asleep with
full bellies.  Unfortunately, Ellala, like all other elves, had small stomachs,
low body fat and high metabolisms, and they would be hungry again by morning. 
And then they would again be on short rations.

BOOK: Refuge: Kurt's Quest
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