The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag (20 page)

“How many do you think there are?”

“Back home wolf packs were known to be as large as twenty or more,” Potbelly replied. “But I think this one is smaller. Ten maybe?”

“If they figure us for food, ten would be better though two would be best.”

Potbelly chuckled. “I could go for that. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll take first watch.”

“Very well,” Scar replied. He settled down between the fire and the bole of a large tree. “Make sure that fire stays lit.”

“Count on it.”

Just then a howl came from not very far off.

Scar sat up and looked in that direction. His swords lay on the ground next to him. He gripped the hilt of one. A second later, the howl sounded again, this time farther away. Letting go the hilt, he laid back down. “This is going to be a long night,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Potbelly kept to the shadows just beyond the reach of the firelight. His gaze remained on the darkness surrounding their camp to avoid ruining his night vision.

Hours passed and the sound of wolves continued drifting close only to again move off. Each time they drew close, he contemplated waking Scar, but then they would head deeper into the forest and he left his friend undisturbed.

When it came time for Scars’ turn to stand watch, he woke him and appraised him on the activities of the wolves.

“They’re still out there. The last few hours they’ve been coming closer.”

“Getting up their nerve to brave the fire?” Scar asked.

“Possible.”

He buckled his sword belt on and got to his feet. Then a few branches tossed on the fire for good measure and he started his first circuit of the campsite.

Potbelly’s snores had continued for some time when the first set of eyes appeared out in the dark. Scar had paused by the horses that had grown skittish and was working to calm them when he saw the pair of yellow eyes watching him. He drew his swords and waited. A moment later, the eyes vanished.

“Easy, boy.”

Scabbarding one sword, he used his free hand to gently rub the horse’s neck. Both were on edge and that only heightened his sense of unease. Moving to the pile of wood, he tossed several more branches on the fire; he soon had a mighty blaze raging.

Shadows moved along the fringe of light. He counted six though there could be more.

“Hey,” he said, nudging Potbelly. When his friend stirred, he said quietly, “We have company.”

Potbelly snapped awake. He drew his knife and got to his feet.

“How many?”

“Six, maybe more.”

One wolf passed through the light near the horses causing them to rear and whiney. It was larger than the wolves back in Madoc, at least a hand or two taller at the shoulders.

“Keep an eye on the horses,” Scar said.

Potbelly moved between them and they settled down.

Scar removed a burning brand from the fire and with it in one hand and his sword in the other, he moved several paces from the fire. He held the brand up high.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Potbelly asked when he saw Scar move deeper into the forest.

“No,” came the reply. “Just keep those horses safe.”

Finding a tree with two limbs nearly intertwined within reach, he slid the burning brand into it like a torch sconce, then drew his other sword.

“Come on!” he shouted. “Anybody hungry? Scar’s nice this time of year!”

A gray wolf stepped into the light emitted by the burning brand. Its head was low and a growl rumbled from deep within.

“Well, there you are, puppy dog.” He motioned with a sword for the wolf to approach. “How about you come and give old Uncle Scar a big…fat…kiss.”

The wolf took a step toward him.

“That’s it,” Scar said. “A little closer.”

Growling more deeply, it took another step.

Then motion from the corner of his eye caused him to dance back as a second wolf shot for him from the side. Teeth clamped where he had been but a second before.

Years in the pit had honed his skills well. Lashing out with a sword, he scored along its side; fur and the skin beneath parted.  Howling, the wolf fled into the night.

The wolf that had stood before Scar was no longer there.

“That’s it?” he hollered. Turning slowly in a full circle, Scar laughed. “You ain’t nothing! Come on and show me why I should fear you.”

The shadows remained quiet; the wolves that had earlier been seen were no longer present.

He waited for another few moments, then took the burning brand from the tree and turned to head back to the fire.

“Look out!” Potbelly hollered.

Scar turned and dodged to the side while at the same time lashing out with the brand. An explosion of sparks erupted when it struck the side of the wolf’s head.

“Stay with the horses!” Scar shouted as he backed up; brand in one hand and sword in the other.

The wolf twisted in mid-air, came to land facing Scar and then sprang forward.

“Hyah!” Scar shouted as it shot for him. He thrust with the sword and landed a glancing blow along the wolf’s jaw, then followed through with a blow to the beast’s neck than shattered the brand.

Fur smoldered and drops of blood beaded along its chin.

Scar backed up another step and drew his other sword. Out of the corner of his eye he saw shapes moving in the shadows. Realizing he needed to end this quick, he pressed forward.

  A lunge with one sword slightly to the right of the wolf’s snout caused it to dart left just in time to feel the tip of Scar’s other sword pierce its chest.

Snarling and yelping, it twisted off the blade and darted back into the forest.

Scar only had time to see that blood covered only the first two inches of his sword indicating the wound hadn’t been fatal before two wolves launched themselves from the shadows. One had blood-matted fur along its jaw; it was the one from before.

He kept one at bay with a swipe while he thrust at the second that took it in the neck. Blood spurted and Scar kicked the wolf away.

The first wolf closed again and he dodged to the right; one blade spinning a wall of steel while the other poked through and scored shallow hits twice in quick succession. It backed off beyond the reach of the swords, snarling and growling. Its eyes locked onto Scar.

“Had enough?” When the wolf failed to respond, Scar said, “Well I haven’t. Let’s end this.”

Darting forward, he lunged at the wolf with both swords. His left remained back a little farther than the right giving the illusion that there was an opening. The wolf took the bait. Its snout lunged forward.

Scar twisted his left wrist and the sword dropped into the opening. The wolf’s jaws closed on the blade and in that instant, Scar pulled back on the blade snapping off several of its teeth. He kneed it in the side, knocked it off balance and twirled his other sword so the blade faced down and thrust with all his might.

The blade deeply pierced the wolf’s ribcage, pinning it to the ground. It flopped about a moment before growing still. Leaving the sword, he scanned the shadows. When he failed to detect the presence of wolves, he stepped back to the dead wolf, put his foot on its side and pulled his blade free.

“Come on!” Scar yelled. “Don’t give up now!”

Two wolves laid dead and he had yet to receive so much as a scratch.

“Got one,” Potbelly shouted in the following silence.

“Good. Two here and wounded another.”

The forest remained quiet. When after a minute no further attempts were made by the wolves, he returned to the fire. Potbelly met him there.

“I think they’ve had enough for one night.”

“I don’t know,” Scar argued. “They might return.”

“With three dead and us not weakened in the slightest? I doubt they will return.”

“Go back to sleep if you can,” Scar said. “I’ll wake you if I hear anything.”

The rest of the night remained quiet. When the forest began to lighten with the coming of dawn, they broke camp and followed the stream. Two hours later they reached the lake.

The lake was of modest size and the break in the canopy allowed them to get their bearings.

“We need to keep better track of our direction from this point on,” Scar said. “We lost time we can ill afford to lose.”

From where the stream emptied into the lake, they looked east across the water and over the treetops. There they saw Crystal Crag rising majestically among the peaks.

“Getting close.”

Potbelly nodded.

It took an hour to traverse the lakeshore. Once beneath the canopy again, they kept better watch on their heading. Potbelly suggested they angle to the north and once they reached where the valley began to rise, keep the rise to their left and they would continue in a general easterly direction. Scar concurred.

The day passed as had the one before and when the world began to darken, they sought a place to camp. Finding a fallen log bordering a creek was a stroke of luck. The log would provide some shelter and defense against the wolves should they return, and the creek might contain fish. Scar set to making camp and gathering wood while Potbelly took his line and hook to see about dinner.

Three small fish later he returned and they set them to roasting over the fire.

The forest darkened while the fish cooked and when they were done, Potbelly laid several sections of thick branches over the fire.

They ate with their backs to the log and fire before them. The horses were again picketed close by in the area between the log and the stream. Though the stream probably would not keep the wolves away, it would at least announce their presence should they attempt to come at them through it.

It wasn’t long after darkness deepened before the howling commenced. Unlike the night before, it began not very far away.

“Think they want payback for last night?”

Potbelly shrugged. “Maybe. Do wolves even think that way?”

“I would if I were one.”

“You do smell like one at times,” he chuckled.

Scar tossed a stone his way good-naturedly and Potbelly easily swatted it aside.

The howls gradually closed in. When the horses grew anxious they got to their feet. Potbelly again took his position with them while Scar brought two flaming brands a ways from camp and set them securely in crooks of trees. There he waited; better to fight them away from the horses than risk losing one.

Yellow eyes again peered at Scar from the night; one pair, then two, then three.

“Think you’ll have enough this time?” Scar taunted. “Come on then.” Drawing both swords, he clashed them together. “I’m ready for you.”

Two pairs melted back into the night while the remaining set moved forward coming within the light of the burning brands. Three points of red-matted fur marred the wolf’s chest.

“Ah,” Scar said, recognizing the beast from the night before. “Want another chance at me, is that it?”

Growls and snarls were all the answer he received.

“Well, come on then,” Scar urged. “Let’s see what you got.”

Remembering the flanking maneuver the wolves had pulled the last time, he kept watch to either side.

Taking two steps forward, Scar roared and waved his swords. The wolf didn’t move.

He stepped back and lowered his swords. As if that had been a signal, two wolves darted out of the darkness; one to his left, the other on his right. Scar was ready for that. His stance allowed freedom of movement in either direction. When the one to his right leapt for him, he threw himself to the ground and rolled toward it. As the wolf sailed over him, Scar rolled onto his back and without pausing, sliced into the wolf’s underside while he continued his roll. Then in a single motion, tucked a leg under, twisted and thrust himself to his feet with swords at the ready.

The second wolf shot for him. Scar thrust with one sword causing the wolf to dodge to the side then brought in the other to score along its foreleg. Snarling, the beast darted to the side but did not withdraw.

He scanned to the left and right; no other wolves were present.

“How are you doing?” he hollered.

“Beat them back,” Potbelly replied. “One won’t be returning.

“Got one too.” Then he grinned at the wolf. “You’re next.”

Stepping forward, he lowered a sword toward the wolf. “Come on, puppy dog. Don’t you want to play?”

The wolf took two steps back.

“Scared?” Scar asked then advanced another three feet.

Again, the wolf backed up to maintain the distance between them.

Scar scanned to the sides out of the corners of his eyes. “You wouldn’t be planning anything, would you?”

Another step forward and this time the wolf held his ground. Growling with head down, its muscles were hunched to spring. Veteran of untold number of fights both within
The Pits
and without, he saw the wolf’s eyes flicker to the left. Then came the sound of a twig breaking from behind.