Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

“Here,” Wolfson said, tossing a sapling to Alaan. “We musthave spears. Sharpen that and harden it in the fire. Iron tips are what weneed, but this will have to do.”

“What’s out there?” Fynnol asked. He stood looking on,almost bouncing with fear.

“Perhaps it isn’t us they’re after,” Wolfson said, stillchopping branches away. “We might hope.” And he said no more.

Tam strung his bow and found all his arrows before searchingfor more firewood. The wind continued to howl through the trees, and, overhead,clouds buried the stars. Firelight grew as they heaped on dry branches,lighting the sentinel trees, coloring the apprehensive faces of his companionsa dull orange.

Tam threw another armful of twisted branches on the fire andwiped away the sweat from his forehead and eyes. The call of the horn was heardagain, but this time closer, the sound making the hair on his neck stand up.Wolfson’s pack surged into camp, their own hackles erect. They were frettingand growling, howling sporadically. They gathered about their master but kepttheir eyes on the darkness to the north, their teeth bared.

Tam stood by the fire, his bow in hand, one of Wolfson’smakeshift spears planted in the earth. They all arrayed themselves with theirbacks to the fire, Wolfson in the center, Cynddl,Tam, and Fynnol close to him,Alaan and Crowheart to the outside.

A different sound was carried on the wind now-the sound ofbreaking branches, of something crashing through the trees. The wolves begansnarling and yapping at the darkness. Overhead the crows screeched and flutteredfrom branch to branch.

Whatever crashed through the wood stopped just at the shorelinewhere light met the sea of darkness. Wolfson took up a dead fir branch, all itsneedles turned to brown. He thrust it in the fire, then held it up flaring andcrackling. Whatever lay beyond the firelight hesitated but did not retreat.

The horn sounded again, this time very near, and there was asudden stamping in the darkness, then out of it shot some dark-skinnedcreature, the height of a pony. It went straight for Wolfson, who tossed hisbrand at its face and stepped forward, driving his spear into its neck.

A boar, Tam realized, but huge and grotesque. Wolfson sprangout of the way of the tusks, and the beast charged into the fire. Tam leaptaside as burning logs were thrown every which way.

More creatures thundered out of the trees, some larger thanthe first. Wolves leapt at their legs from behind, and they kicked and threwtheir heads, but kept coming, snouts down, aiming to gore the men. Crows fellupon one, tearing at its eyes so that it veered aside and stopped, trying toshake off its tiny attackers. Crowheart stepped forward and calmly cut itsthroat with a sword.

Tam was struck from behind as he drove his makeshift spearinto the shoulder of the largest of the creatures. He was thrown down on theground and only saved himself from being trampled by rolling nimbly to oneside.

“Go up!” Alaan shouted, pointing at the pinnacle of stonethat leaned over the camp.

Fynnol was already scrambling up, tearing moss away from therock in his efforts. Tam swept up his bow and quiver and tried to follow. Thegiant boars seemed to be everywhere, charging in all directions, chasing afterwolves, trying to shake off the attacking crows. Though Tam didn’t know who hadfallen, he went bounding up the rocks hand over hand, his bow and quiver thrownquickly over a shoulder and threatening to get in his way and cause a fall.

Fynnol reached down and grabbed the first thing that came tohand-Tam’s hair-and pulled him up onto the small summit. A boar tried tofollow, snapping at Tam’s heels, but Fynnol put an arrow in its snout, and itfell away, squealing.

A moment later they pulled Cynddl onto the peak and thethree sent a rain of arrows down into the creatures that ran amok below. Firehad spread everywhere, catching in the dry grasses and in the dead branches oftrees. The scene was chaos, with Wolfson in the middle, surrounded by hiswolves, charging this way and that. Rabal’s crow army lit upon the faces of thebeasts, but Crowheart was nowhere to be seen.

“There must be twenty of them!” Fynnol shouted.

Rabal and Alaan appeared from behind, climbing onto thecrowded summit. They began calling to Wolfson. “Come up! Come up!” though Tamdidn’t know where the giant would stand.

The largest of the beasts threw himself at the little hill ofstone, and the men hacked and thrust with their swords. The pig would havethrown them all off but a rock rolled beneath its feet, and it slid down,landing on its side, where the pack fell upon it.

Wolfson came clambering up the slope then, and the archerstried to drive off the beast that chased him. The giant clung to the stone justbelow them, there being no room for him on the crest. He held on to the stonewith one hand and brandished his sword with the other. Below, among the patchesof flame, the enraged boars gathered, snuffling and squealing, arrows bristlingfrom their faces and flanks. Shadows wavered across the ground and trees, andhere and there fires flared up as some dry bush or grasses were touched byflame.

“They’re going to charge us,” Wolfson said, he lookedbehind. They were little more than a dozen feet above the giant creatures, andto their backs the ground was even closer as the slope of the hill rose up. “Ithink we have no choice but to run into the trees. Down the slope there aresome great oaks and maples. We might climb up and be out of their reach. Theywill be gone by sun-up, if we can stay alive that long.”

The wind whipped the giant’s hair and beard, and blew bitsof flaming vegetation past their faces. They all stood, gasping for breath,sweat running freely down faces turned the colors of sunset by the firelight.Alaan had blood running down his arm and covering his hand, though he didn’tseem to notice.

A crashing in the forest behind caused them all to jump.

“They are behind us now, too,” Alaan said, hefting hissword.

“They’re going to charge!” Wolfson warned, and certainly thebeasts did seem to have worked up their rage, squealing and pawing at theground. Tam could see them in the orange light of the spreading fire. The eyedid not admit their size-the largest the height of horses, but twice a horse’sbulk. Lethal-looking tusks protruded from their snouts, and their small eyesglittered madly in the flickering light.

The wind blew fiercely across the hill, whipping the men’sclothes and hair. It moaned through the trees, tossing branches and fanning thegrowing flames. A horn sounded, echoing down the wind. Wolfson braced himselffor the assault, which he would meet first.

The squealing reached a frightening crescendo, and theterrible beasts charged in a mass.

Out of the trees, at that very moment, plunged riders.

“Hafydd’s spies!” Fynnol cried, pointing.

“Into the trees!” Alaan shouted.

Tam turned to run, but more of the creatures loomed out ofthe dark. He fired an arrow, then another. The dark mass did not falter butcharged through the underwood directly for them.

“Jump!” Cynddl cried, and they all threw themselves from thesmall summit.

Tam crashed through some sparse bushes and scrambled to hisfeet, ignoring the scratches and cuts. His bow was gone, so he yanked his swordfrom its scabbard and crouched low, ready to fight man or beast. From his placein the shadows he stared into the small clearing, and there, lit by burningtrees and patches of grass, he saw a battle, between mounted men and thesecreatures, out of someone’s nightmare. The horses wore trappings that protectedthem from being gored, and the men seemed to know their business, as thoughthey’d fought such beasts before.

To Tam’s surprise, Wolfson leapt down from his perch andwaded into the battle, calling out to the men, who answered him with words Tamdid not know. Alaan ran out of the shadows to guard the giant’s back, and theyleapt upon any animal thrown down by the riders, hacking at its throat orcruelly taking out its eyes.