Clayton Emery: Whispering woods

The beast's articulated-cone eyes trained on the woodcutter. Atop, like a child on its father's shoulders, the boy looked frantically at the barbarians about to engulf his hero. Hanging on to the lurching beast's neck, hauling levers, the boy steered for the wave of barbarians, trailing vines by the bushelful. Threatened by the fearsome feet and legs, the blue men and women backed from Gull's pitiful line, retreated around the beast toward the clearing by the altar. One barbarian, ducking the wrong way, was pinned between a back leg and the monolith, crushed so blood spurted from his mouth.

As the beast loomed overhead, Gull fell back against Greensleeves to keep from being crushed himself. Stiggur brought the monster to a thunderous halt on the very lip of the bluff.

Morven and Stiggur shouted hoorays, but Gull shushed them. "They'll regroup and come at us again! They must, the geas compels them! Stiggur, get the beast to lie down! We need a barricade!"

Leaning out and down, biting his lip, the boy frowned, ready to cry. "But, Gull, it can't lie down! There ain't no lever for that!"

"What?" The woodcutter cursed. Of course there wasn't. The beast remained upright like a sleeping horse. Liko and levers had shoved it over. So what to do? "Well… blast! Turn it, then!"

Gears whirring and protesting, Stiggur inched the monster in a tight circle, all the while Gull feared it would sunder the cliff and pitch them all to the rocks below. They ended with their gap shrunk to nine feet or so, the width of the beast's underbelly. The stout legs, thick as wharf pilings, offered shelter like four tree trunks.

But barbarians hooted, chanted to taunt their enemies and egg each other on. They elbowed and shoved and argued, shuffling into rough ranks for the next attack. Gull guessed they used some hierarchy for who attacked first and who second, a function of caste or family or past deeds. It made for much arguing.

In the momentary lull, Gull tried to think what to do. Could they survive a drop to the rocks below? Not without breaking limbs. Was it worthwhile to scale this rock jumble? What lay on the other side? He clutched his bleeding elbow, rubbed slashed ribs, and despaired. They'd all die here, and soon. Could he put Greensleeves up with Stiggur, have him bash through the brambles and get away…?

Greensleeves grabbed his arm, pointing up.

Taking advantage of the pause, the mountain lion gathered its haunches and leaped from the peak of the monolith to the heaped rocks. Though it dropped twenty feet or more, the big cat landed without a sound. Hissing at them, it bounded over the rocks and out of sight. Yet a great snapping and snarling welled up, another scrap, and Gull recognized the snattering of an angry badger. So that was where the giant badger had gone.

"We get more catfights," muttered Morven. He plucked and yanked at a boulder, trying to free it, roll it down for protection, but it stayed put. "Handy. Why not fire-spitting dragons?"

Gull rubbed his brow, pressed his bleeding ribs. He could have screamed in frustration. If only Greensleeves could control the damned animals, turn them against the barbarians, compel them to fight. Or conjure something that could think…

He barked so suddenly his sister jumped. "The giant, Liko! Remember him, Greenie? Call him! And the centaurs! No, wait…" She'd already conjured them, but they'd galloped off, cut off by the blue army. He searched a mental list as jumbled as the rocks. "What about Tomas, the red soldiers-" No, Greensleeves never met them. Who else? The paladin? No. The ant soldiers? No good either. "Get the goblins, even! Remember that little thief, Egg Sucker?"

From atop the clockwork beast, Stiggur called, "They're getting ready to charge, Gull!"

"I want to know, where's Towser?" said the sailor. "I don't like him running loose, thinking up more things to hurl at us!"

But a shout from Stiggur made him pause. The boy behind them.

Burned gold by the setting sun, a lone man stood atop the stone pile. In black leather and plain helmet, he carried a short sword and shield, was scarred down one side of his face.

"Kem!"

The bodyguard scuffed across the rocks, hopped and thumped down alongside Gull.

The woodcutter griped, "What do you want? Come to beg our surrender for Towser?"

Puckered skin sneered high on one side. "I knew it'd be a mistake helping you."

The two men argued calmly as if standing before an ale bar in town, rather than awaiting slaughter. Gull said, "We don't need your help."

"Well, you got it, like it or not."

"Don't expect any thanks."

"I'll thank you!" Morven called, still yanking at rocks. "Thank you! Now kiss and make up and fight the enemy, you codfish peckers!"

Gull gripped his aching elbow. Blood trickled down his forearm and made his axe handle slick. "Sister, can you think of anything to help us?"

But Greensleeves listened to silent sound. One hand against the monolith, she curled the other, raised it…

"Here we go!" shouted Kem. He pushed to Gull's left, his wounded side, and lifted his sword. Gull wiped blood on his tunic, hefted his axe. Morven clanged his stolen sword against his shield, sang a snatch of some sailor's ditty.

The barbarians finally had managed ranks of six. Chanting together, banging weapons, they advanced in step.

This charge was different. After a dozen paces, the main body halted and kept chanting, while the front six launched themselves at the line. Gull guessed they were either a suicide squad, or else young warriors out for their first kill. Or else the barbarians pitied Gull's small force and only sent in their clumsiest warriors.

These proved unblooded warriors, for the defenders killed them outright.

Restricted on either side by Morven and Kem, restricted by the low ceiling of the beast's belly, Gull hoisted his axe, cocked his arms tight, and struck. It was a woman before him, young under her tattoos and berry stain, even pretty despite the tusks. Gull hated to kill her.

But he must. He swung the huge axe at an angle, smashed through her leather shield, and cleaved her shoulder. Blood spurted and she toppled leaking at his feet. Wrenching the axe free, he found the shield tangled around the handle. He lost precious seconds sliding it off -A barbarian whipped in close, stabbed with his sword -and died on Kem's blade.

Having dispatched his two assailants, the trained fighter had spare time to kill Gull's.

"Don't thank me!" grunted Kem. "Again!"

"I won't!" Gull panted. "But we're drawing even!"

"Even? Ha! You owe me-"

Another shout welled from the barbarians. The first line dead, the second peeled off to rush them.

Hopeless, Gull thought. It was hopeless.

Then a green-brown blur rippled in the sunset red air, and another monolith reared into the sky.

Backed against the black monolith, Liko scratched one head with his one arm, tried to fathom the scene around his knees. Fortunately, Gull saw, he'd brought his newly carved club. Slowly, the giant pieced together the picture.

"Hit someone blue, Liko!" shouted the woodcutter.

"Ahhhh…" Both heads nodded.

The giant stumped forward, tangled his feet in the twisted briars strewn by the clockwork beast, and toppled full length.

His crash shook the ground, stunning everyone. Yet he shot out his only hand and caught a barbarian by the leg, as a child might catch a frog. The blue man stabbed his fingers and the giant let go.

The second wave of barbarians struck the line, paired this time. A chunky blue woman pinked Gull's knee. Her partner, probably mate, flicked at Gull's opposite side, flashed a tusked grin to frighten. The woodcutter couldn't slash either with his axe without driving his guts onto a sword. Crowding, hiding behind their swords and shields, they'd crowd and drop and dress him like a deer.