Rose Estes - Master Wolf

The air was filled with a fiery rain as the brightly burning bushes pelted down on the unsuspecting kobolds, showering them with explosive bursts of hot burning pitch.

The night was rent with screams of pain as the burning pitch burned the kobolds' scanty raiment and continued searing their horny skin. Writhing in anguish and rage, the kobold leader, an ugly brute half again the size of his followers, turned and scanned the rocks behind his ragged army, seeking the origin of the unexpected attack.

Mika-oba knew that the element of surprise was over. The kobold would soon spot them and direct his followers to attack the attackers. Rising to his feet at Enor's signal, Mika shrieked a hair-raising wolf cry, and waved nomads and wolves onward down the slope toward the kobold army.

Suddenly, just as the last of the men had passed him, a hard shove from behind pushed Mika off balance and he was forced to run downhill as fast as he could go in a desperate attempt to remain on his feet. With utter horror, he found himself overrunning his companions and plunging well ahead of the front line on a course that would soon place him squarely in the middle of the kobold lines.

A shriek of terror lifted from his throat and his comrades, taking it as a cry of courage, increased their strides and closed behind him in a solid wedge, propelling him on, their own wolf calls drowning out his piteous bleats of fear.

Axes, swords, pikes, and javelins raised above their heads, screaming madly, the Wolf Nomads, terrifying in their blue war paint with their ravening beasts beside them, caromed down the hill and slammed into the rear of the kobold army.

Ululating wolf wails rose from the throats of the Wolf Clan as they slashed their way through the astonished kobolds. A chorus of elated wolf cries answered them from the wagons. Hasteen and several of the younger nomads perched on the lip of the arroyo and continued firing flaming grease bushes into the churning ranks of the kobolds.

Mika, finding himself suddenly alone but surrounded by kobolds on the rocky slopes, seized his battle axe and began whirling round and round, while screaming like a madman. Blood flew-kobold blood-and hope grew that if he could just keep swinging, the wretched creatures would not be able to get close enough to hurt him.

Tam crouched at his feet, just below the arc of the blade, snarling, ready for any kobold foolish enough to venture within reach of his open jaws. Some did, and Tam feasted on their blundering bodies.

A short distance away, the kobold leader roared in anger and beat out the fiery sparks on his orange tunic with his horny palms while urging his followers to stand fast and attack the newcomers. A few did as he directed, but the majority were too confused and frightened by the flames, which continued to rain down on them. Those few kobolds that did manage to reach the attacking Wolf Clan did not live long enough to regret their mistake.

Emboldened by the presence of their rescuers, twenty-odd survivors emerged from behind the wagons and joined their comrades.

The battle was long and fierce, but the advantage had been tipped in favor of the nomads, and as the first light of dawn crept over the eastern edge of the hills, its cold bright light so painful to the kobold's sensitive eyes, the nomads seized the initiative and pressed the creatures into a total rout.

Screaming their wolf cries, the nomads moved about them with axe and sword, hacking and slashing, killing kobolds in large numbers.

The wolves and the few tigers that remained alive were charged with a maniacal blood lust. Their eyes glittered crazily and their open jaws revealed sharp teeth that drooled with dark kobold blood.

The crazed animals seemed to favor prey that moved, and they brought down one fleeing kobold after another. A few kobolds, more clever than their unfortunate companions, took advantage of this tactic and dropped to the ground and played dead, crawling off after the bloodthirsty animals had passed them by.

Toward the end of the bloody battle, Mika-oba, who had grown both weary and dizzy, found himself face to face with the kobold leader. Its rusty brown hide was burned and bleeding in a dozen places, but fury still glowed in its orange eyes.

"You have won the day," the kobold growled in a guttural voice as it circled Mika-oba wielding a broken shortsword, searching for an opening, "but you will lose in the end…"

Mika-oba responded in a cool, doubting tone, "It is you who will die, and we who will dance in your blood…"

But the kobold was smarter than Mika-oba thought, having survived more than a few battles and learned from them as well. He opened his muzzle as though to speak further. When Mika-oba hesitated, the kobold lashed out with his sword and slashed Mika-oba diagonally across the chest. Only his fast reflexes saved him from a fatal blow.

Mika struck out with his axe and the kobold ducked low, letting the heavy blade swish harmlessly overhead. He used the opportunity to cut at Mika's knees with his bit of broken sword. Mika felt the blade nick him and leaped back, wishing that Tam had not abandoned him to join in the frenzied killing of the kobolds in retreat.

Mika and the kobold drove back and forth on the rocky slopes, neither able to gain the advantage. Mika was tiring, his muscles stiffening and trembling with fatigue. He knew he had to kill the kobold before he grew too tired to lift the heavy axe.

Giving a loud shriek, he raised the axe above his head and swung it in short, tight circles, driving the kobold back. The kobold could only retreat and soon found itself plastered against a stony outcrop.

As Mika raised his axe for the final blow, the kobold's brutal face snarled up at him with unremitting hatred. Then suddenly, before he could bring the axe down on the kobold's horny head, something sped past him with a harsh exhalation of air and thunked into the kobold.

The kobold shrieked and clutched its chest. Black blood erupted through its scaly fingers as did the shaft of a spear. As it sank to its knees, the kobold's face contorted, and Mika realized with a shock that it was smiling!

"… Iuz… will…" gasped the kobold, struggling to form the words, but they did not come, and with a final shudder, it toppled onto its face and died.

"Iuz will do what? What about Iuz!" screamed Mika-oba as he grabbed the dead kobold and shook it violently. Enor materialized beside him and with some effort extracted his spear from the kobold's dead body. Then the chieftain noticed Mika's wild expression and grasped him firmly on the shoulders, intending to calm him.

"What are you doing?" Enor asked. "The creature is obviously dead. It has gone to its ancestors, if there is a place for such as these after death."

"Enor, it said something about Iuz right before it died," said Mika.

No Wolf Nomad could help but be disconcerted over the mention of the evil demon, lord of the Middle Lands in whose name untold acts of horror had been committed, and whom even the Wolf Nomads, whose lands bordered his, had cause to fear. Iuz had been ominously quiescent for generations. There were rumors about his presence from time to time, and there were unfounded reports of his foul deeds, but nothing certain or reliable. Why would Iuz be aligned with lowly kobolds?

"Iuz," Enor muttered uneasily, prodding the dead kobold with his toe. "I hope you are mistaken, Mika, or that the creature was lying. Let us pray that it is so. The demon lord has not been heard from in years, and I would have it remain that way."

Enor stood up beside the dead kobold and stared around him. The field was littered with dead and dying kobolds and a few injured wolves and nomads. Enor gazed off in the distance, where the main body of kobolds, perhaps forty or more, had gathered together for a last stand at the edge of the river. But it was a doomed affair, for the sun was rising, growing in strength and brilliance. Its bright rays shone down, blinding them to the flight of arrows and the final slash and cut of sword and axe. Soon, the last of them were dead, their black blood flowing into the rushing waters of the River Fler.