The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (28 page)

"Pwillypwynt," replied the bard with a smile.

Carym laughed, knowing there was no way he could pronounce the word. Genn scowled, thinking herself the victim of a joke. Thunder rumbled in the distance perhaps to herald rain, something which none of the companions wanted.

"A sleepy little farming community?" asked the knight, eying the white cottages topped with thatch roofs. The smell of wood burning in hearths and stews cooking over fires drifted out into the night air and stomachs rumbled hungrily.

"Aye," said the bard. "Though the farmer says there's been trouble with strange wild dogs lately."

"Wild dogs," Carym repeated grimly. Carym assumed that these wily farmers would know the difference between a dog and the giant wolves that had been hunting them, but for some reason he felt a sense of foreboding.

"Sheep stealers, nothing more."

Bart flashed Carym a warning look. They would likely be turned away if the villagers learned anything more of the trouble that followed the companions everywhere they went. "With fiery eyes," the bard whispered softly. Carym nodded grimly; no ordinary dogs had been plaguing this town. He wondered briefly if the companions ought to move on, but reconsidered. If the dogs were minions of Umber they would find the companions wherever they went. They were all just too bone-weary to consider moving on.

By the time they reached the small farm, the air had become a bit warmer and a bit more damp, everyone knew it would rain soon. The old man led the group through the village to his own small farm. A white-walled cottage with a thick roof of thatch stood warm and inviting with the flicker of a warm fire visible through cracks in the shuttered windows. The farmer led them through a gate in a long stone wall that framed a large pasture, too large to see its width and breadth in the dim torchlight. Finally, they reached a small barn, barely large enough to house all the horses and themselves. Much to Carym's chagrin, there were no stalls in the barn, just hitching posts to tie the horses. The old farmer would not hear of them leaving the horses outside with the threat of wild dogs.

"This is outrageous!" hissed Genn after the old man left. "He expects us to sleep in here with horses milling about? They will step on us while we sleep!"

"Or drop something on us," said the knight, laughing aloud. Genn scowled and Ederick just laughed harder. Carym had to suppress his own laughter, he was in enough trouble with her as it was.

"If you don't like it, sleep outside," snapped the bard. It was clear to Carym that Bart didn't find the matter at all amusing and seemed ready send the woman out. Ignoring Carym, Genn stalked over to a corner and piled up some hay, spreading out a cloak to make a bed.

"You might want to make sure your bed isn't lumpy!" quipped the knight, laughing again. Carym couldn't stop himself from laughing then and realized, ruefully, that he had probably driven deeper the wedge that was growing between them.

A peal of thunder roared and a light rain began to fall, silencing them all. There was little sound save for the horses shifting or snorting, mercifully there was no sound of water leaking in through the roof; a testament to the quality of the building skills of the hardy Myrnnish farmers.

Carym lay on a pile of hay, so weary he was immune to the pieces of straw which managed to poke through gaps in his clothing. He had taken off his light armor and was more comfortable than he had been in days. He was weary and wanted to sleep very, very, badly. Yet something nagged at him.

Did we set a watch?
 he wondered to himself, his eyes very heavy. He remembered another time when he and his companions had overlooked the setting of a watch with disastrous results. But that seemed so long ago, and so far away, that he could scarcely recall the incident in his sleep-fogged brain. Finally, Carym drifted off to the gentle sound of the falling rain and the stomping of horses' feet and the snoring of his friends When the thunder had quieted and the rain stopped, the howling began. Carym knew they were in trouble. 

Bart was the first to awaken when the baying of the hounds broke the silence.

"Up!" he shouted. "Everyone up!"

"What's the matter, Bart?" asked Genn, irritation in her voice.

"Get up and get ready," he said grimly, the sound of baying hounds could be heard in the distance. Bart whispered quiet Sigil words and cast a spray of tiny balls of light into the air. They hovered near the ceiling of the barn and cast them all in light. "I pray we haven't just brought destruction to the good folk of this village."

"Don't you think you are overreacting? Aren't these just wild dogs, as the farmer said?"

"Lie there if you will, woman," he growled. "But you'll die there if you don't prepare yourself, so you will!"

"Damn!" Carym swore softly, the sound was growing stronger by the minute. "How could there be so many?" Had they brought more of the terrible killers with them? He hoped the beasts would leave and there would be no innocent lives lost, but it was a false hope. The horses began stomping and snorting as the sound grew louder, they knew that fierce predators were approaching.

"I agree with the bard," said the princess. "We must prepare. Wherever these creatures have struck, they have not been alone. This isn't the first village that has had trouble with
 wild dogs
. We must assume that the dark creatures have returned and in greater numbers."

"Shouldn't we go outside and look?" demanded Genn. "I don't want to be trapped in here!"

"If we go outside, we lose the advantages we have. In here, we have light and obstacles that the enemy must overcome. Out there, they have the advantage."

Genn did not respond, nobody did. Each person had quickly readied themselves to fight. The sounds of the baying dogs had finally tapered off and quieted. Everyone strained to hear in the near-silence; even the horses had stilled themselves. Carym prayed they were overreacting.

After a few moments had passed and nothing happened, Carym hoped the companions could began to relax. 

"All seems quiet," commented the knight softly and Carym was relieved. Hala nodded, but she was ready to fight anyway. In a flash of soft amber light, she transformed into something that was part jaguar and part human. Her muscles rippled under her skin and a sheen of soft but incredibly strong fur shimmered in the magical light. Carym truly felt sorry for anyone or anything that found itself on the receiving end of her dagger-claws; what a good feeling it was to have her on his side.

"Do you sense something?" asked Carym of the Jaguar Knight. Hala's senses were far superior to the senses of the other companions while the magic had control of her body. A low growl from her throat was his answer.

And that's when the wooden planks that comprised the side door of the barn, near where the horses had been hitched, exploded in a shower of splinters. Two vaguely human forms with long arms and pointed ears stood amidst the wreckage of the door while red eyes leered in from behind them. The sense of dread in the pit of his stomach left no doubt in Carym's mind that these were the same werewolves that he had confronted in Obyn--and had barely escaped.

The horses, themselves animals of prey hunted by others, gave in to their natural instincts when the two arch-predators entered the barn and began pulling frantically against the lead ropes that held them. With a great CRACK, one rope after another snapped and loose horses created havoc as they reared up in fear or bolted around with eyes wide open inside the small barn.

Bart crouched down as though ducking from an attack, but his eyes closed in concentration for a moment. Carym sensed the air in the barn beginning to crackle with energy, the hair on his arms seemed to stand up of their own will. Then with a crack like thunder Bart surged into the the air above the chaos and began to fire arrows
empowered
with magic at the two werewolves. Each missile fired with a clap and crackled with magical lightning. 

One of the werewolves leaped onto a horse and wrapped its great arms around the horse's neck, then raked the claws of its feet across the creature's flank and flayed it wide open. In seconds the horse fell to the ground, dead, and the monster now had an open path to the companions. The hideous creature crouched low, eyes aflame with hatred, and leaped into the air to attack the bard. But the bard was the quicker of the two and he managed to fire a bolt into its chest. The beast let out a yelp as the arrow pierced its thick fur covered hide and loosed a spray of blood. Just as the beast hit the straw-covered floor Hala bowled into the creature with unstoppable force. The two rolled around in a tangle of vicious teeth claws, snarling and growling like two savage animals fighting.

Ederick kicked open the larger back doors to the barn allowing the other horses to escape. That gave them a larger area from which to fight and keep themselves from becoming trapped. Just as the remaining horses escaped into the cold night, two more monsters stalked in through the open door with fire in their eyes and blood dripping from their claws. To Carym, these two new arrivals seemed vaguely female, and each was carrying a long serrated blade. Ederick charged and engaged the two monsters simultaneously. Sparks flew and steel rang in the air as the powerful knight attacked and whirled and struck out at the abysmal creatures.

That's when the evil dogs with eyes of flames crept in. Two of the dogs charged right at Genn, but the woman was prepared and fired spells at them. Carym was glad to see the first one go down easily, he had no time for anything else. Two of the nasty ensorcelled creatures were upon him and he was forced to beat them back with the magical fire of his 
enflamed
  fighting sticks. In seconds he felled them both and moved closer to the werewolves. These foes would be hard to kill, Carym knew he would have to use all the power he possessed. He took in all he could handle of the magic of the Flames and bashed wild dogs to death as he gained Ederick's side.

Carym attacked the nearest werewolf with a powerful baton strike to the shoulder and another to the creature's calf. Though the creature buckled momentarily from the blow, the werewolf turned on him after regaining its balance and it was all he could do fend it off. The werewolf had supernatural strength, every attack seemed to brutally jar the bones of his hands. When the creature leaped high into the air, coming down with an overhead strike, the force of the powerful attack almost knocked him to the ground. His fighting became purely defensive and he barely deflected a few of the creature's savage blows, earning himself a few graze wounds on the thigh and shoulder. He tried to open himself up to the Tides, to use the raw savage power he had learned while in the Realm of Flames, but he could not stop fighting long enough to do it.

He was in trouble and he knew it. The creature's foul breath was nauseating and it was harder for him to concentrate on keeping his weapon's
enflamed.
The werewolf swung its blade in a vicious arc that was meant to separate Carym's head from his shoulders and it almost succeeded. Carym managed to step to the side and duck at the same time, the blade whistled over his head and he thought the blade might have taken some of his hair with it. As he recovered, the werewolf pounced on him and took him to the ground in a terrible bear-like hug. One of his arm's was pinned to his side while the other was pinned up, allowing him to block the savage fangs that snapped at his face and throat. Even with one arm up, however, Carym found that he was having trouble breathing and he was losing strength. He felt the monster bring her legs up, looking to rake his abdomen with the wicked claws on her feet. Carym recalled what had happened to the poor horse that now lay with its side flayed open, its blood soaking into the dirty barn floor and pulled his own legs up to try covering his abdomen. The werewolf snarled as she tried to eviscerate him but managed only to injure his legs. Carym didn't feel the pain of the attack, but he felt weaker as his own warm blood flowed down his legs.

His struggles became more and more futile; it seemed that he was merely prolonging his inevitable end, fighting to extend his life by a few seconds at a time even though he managed to land a few blows with batons. The fangs were dangerously close to his neck now, and one of the creature's very human looking eyeball's leered at him, mocking his pitiful efforts to stay alive. He found it difficult to even concentrate enough to use the Tides to save his own life. 

And then there was a glowing arrow protruding from the monster's eyeball and hot blood dripped down onto his own face. The creature went limp and the magic that held it in is lupine form faded, it changed before his very eyes. He shoved the bloody and battered body of a once beautiful human woman from him and got to his feet. He quickly opened himself up to the Tides and let the power flow through him, giving him the strength of the magic. He knew that the strength was only temporary, and the wounds that were healed from the ancient power were slight; it could not do more in so little time.