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The Lost Stars ChronicleChapter 33: Shock And Awe
The party was still in shock. Reno lay, Voolmark and Shainya kneeling by him, while Aros and Luxus huddled together nearby. Luxus was shaking, the Amulet still clutched in his hand.
Anardan limped into camp, Bjarn behind him, both men carrying armfuls of wood. The Forestman captain’s left leg was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, leaving red tinted footprints every other step. The two men dropped their loads, Anardan wincing as his leg throbbed horribly.
“Let me help you with that,” Bjarn offered, taking a step towards Anardan. Suddenly, a rope noose yanked taut on the ground, Bjarn’s leg caught in it. The old Forestman pulled out his dagger and hewed at the rope, the cords finally bursting apart. There was a crash as somewhere in the woods nearby a counterweight crashed into the snow, freed from it’s rope by Bjarn’s keen knife.
“That was a close one. Best we stay nearby.” said Anardan.
“I only hope Dractor and Gib are alright.” replied Bjarn.
“Aye.” replied Anardan.
Dractor was now on the incapacitated list beside Reno and Gib, for while gathering wood he had inadvertently triggered another pitfall. Luckily his battered but strong armor had deflected most of the pikes at the bottom of the shaft, but one had entered his armpit where the maille was thin and his left leg had twisted horribly when he had landed at an awkward angle. After ten minutes of shouting, Bjarn had at last stumbled upon Sir Dractor and had managed to get him out with Aros’ help.
Now Bjarn and Anardan were returning from gathering wood while the wizard-turned-medic Voolmark worked frantically on Reno. Gib and Sir Dractor wounds’ were no where near as life-threatening as Reno’s. Though Shainya was probably a better healer than Voolmark, she was too emotionally strained to help.
“I am convinced the fates are against us…” sighed Bjarn.
“I don’t believe in fate…” muttered Anardan, gritting his teeth at he pain that lanced up his leg, “But I do believe in luck, and we certainly have had a nasty streak of late…”
They reentered the camp and Aros greeted them with a tart nod. Besides a pounding headache, he, Bjarn and Voolmark were the only ones not hurt in some way, and he had taken up the duty of guarding against anything that dared approach the camp.
Bjarn and Anardan dumped the wood on the snow, and then Bjarn sank to his knees the build a fire. First he laid several medium branches on the ground to serve as a platform to cover the snow, then he carefully laid more branches and sticks in a rough tent pattern. Lighting the pile was the hardest part. There was very little dry and papery bits that could be used as starting, and Bjarn’s flint seemed loath to spit out a spark.
Gib tossed Bjarn a small pouch that had been tied around his waist and said, “Try this. I always keep some handy.”
Bjarn opened the pouch to find a single coal smoldering away in a nest of damp straw. He tipped the coal into the mass of sticks and soon a fire was crackling warmly. Bjarn tossed the pouch back and smiled at the old hermit.
“Thanks, I’ll have to remember that trick.”
“Just don’t forget to get a new coal from this fire before it dies.” reminded Gib.
Everyone either moved or was dragged closer to the fire and stayed around it for warmth, only leaving to get more fuel. At last Voolmark sat back with a sigh and wiped his forehead.
“Reno’ll live…” he groaned, “I’ve done all I can do…”
Drained from performing so much magic, Voolmark promptly fell asleep. Shainya, her face white for sorrow and chilled, shifted over to Reno’s still body and hugged him tight. Bjarn studied a wicked claw that Voolmark had withdraw from Reno’s flesh.
“Curse those beasts, whatever they are!” he swore, and threw the claw into the trees.
“They were bloodwolves.”
It had been Luxus who had spoke. Everyone who was conscious stared.
“How’d you know that?” demanded Sir Dractor.
Luxus shrugged and pressed up against Aros.
“I dunno, I dunno at all. I think this thing told me!”
Luxus drew out the amulet. It had at last stopped glowing and had unstuck from the boy’s hand, but his palm would forever bare the mark of the wolf like a crude tattoo.
“Why, why did that Swift give this to you?” snapped Aros, “This is his fault!”
Bjarn shrugged. “We can’t know that for sure...I somehow had the feeling Swift didn’t know why he himself was doing it…”
There was silence for a long time, then Anardan said, “Gib, how far away are we from those ruins?”
Gib glanced about, then muttered something to his bird, Griffin. It took off, and disappeared into the trees. After three minutes, it was back. It landed on Gib’s shoulder and screeched and cocked it’s head.
“Less than a mile, walking.” informed Gib.
“We should get there as soon as possible.” said Bjarn.
“But how?’ countered Sir Dractor, “nearly all of us are unfit for walking. The sled’s been destroyed, and even if it hadn’t, it couldn't have gotten much further in this thick forest!”
Curses! Curses! Curses! Curses!
Gib wasn’t cursing out loud but inwardly he was spewing venom.
How had this happened? He was supposed to be the expert here. He was supposed to make sure no one got hurt. Bloodwolves, huh? So they were the creatures behind the howling he heard the last time he left the Neverwood. Elbadar had told him they werewolves. What was that the Dragon Master had said? A pack must have come up from the Fright Knight territories, during the war, or else during the freakish southern blizzard. They have long since been eradicated everywhere else.
A pack? Three is hardly a pack. Gib could only hope that there weren’t more of the creatures running wild in his wood. Looking around, Gib surveyed the damage. There were few who weren’t battered, bruised or bandaged. The sled had been smashed too. Who knew how much of their provisions were gone.
If we could just get to the castle, Gib thought, We could restock there.
Jackal came limping up to Gib.
“Good work Jackal. Grizzle would be proud of you. Here, let me take a look at those wounds.”
The wolf lay down beside Gib as the hermit brought out his little pouch of ointments and oils.
“No magic suave for you Jackal. You’re only an animal after all and Reno might need more yet. I think this will do, though. A few bandages here and you’ll be right as rain.”
Suddenly there was a flash in the sky, within the woods. Lightning. A fleck of wet sleet hit Gib on the nose.
“Speak of the devil. Looks like storm’s brew’n up there.”
Gib had just finished with Jackal when sir Dractor came over.
“How’s the leg?” he asked.
“It could be worse.” Gib responded, “But I’m afraid that we’ll have take the splint off and reset the bone.”
The company was in despair. Three of them were seriously wounded and unable to walk, so the companions did not know what to do. Anardan fashioned a set of crutches for himself out of one of the sled’s boards, smiling grimly to himself.
“These may be sturdy, but I don’t fancy challenging BloodVaine on them, spirit or not.”
Dractor had mended his arm the best he could, and Anardan had retrieved a piece of cloth from the wreck of the sled to make a sling. The knight sat near the fire conversing with Gib, both of them looking extremely worried.
Shainya was still in shock. She sat, cradling Reno’s head in her lap, listening anxiously to his shallow breathing. Aros and Luxus sat together, watching her. Anardan stumped around the camp trying out his makeshift crutches, while Bjarn sat, lost in thought, apart from the rest.
Reno’s body was surging with hot pain. His eyes opened slightly, and he saw Shainya’s face. He then smiled softly, and his eyes closed with sleep. Aros and Bjarn were talkin quietly around the campfire.
“None of us can walk, Bjarn. We are looking for something, yet we don’t even know where it is. There isn’t much hope.” Aros said, glaring into the fire.
“There never has been much hope, Aros.” Bjarn stated.
They were so close, yet so far.
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