T Lain - Treachery's Wake

Lidda shook her head. What kind of trickery is this? she thought.

She looked around the room, unsure how long she’d been held in thrall by the phantasms in the trunk. The gnoll slept on its cot, snoring quietly, and the embers in the fire pit still glowed a dull orange-red. She had been staring for only a few minutes at most.

As her hand hit the top of the thing, the swirling patterns stopped. Curious, she thought, as she lifted the box gingerly from the bottom of the chest. It was not as heavy as she expected it to be. The wood alone should have weighed several pounds, yet the whole thing was as light as a single crossbow bolt. Everything about the item was wondrous. The rogue couldn’t imagine the worth of the container, let alone what rested inside. She cleared the lid of the trunk and turned to go.

As she moved away, a single, clear chime sounded. It was not loud, but in the silence of the tent it was a clamor. Lidda jumped to her feet. She noticed a small piece of delicate string running from the bottom of the treasure to a silver bell suspended in a corner of the trunk.

“Damn,” she cursed her own stupidity under her breath.

On guard for a much more ingenious or perhaps magical trap, she’d been betrayed by this simple and elegant mechanism. She heard the gnoll stirring behind her. Holding her prize under her arm, she darted for the entrance flap.

Krusk saw Lidda emerge from the flap of the tent in a sprint. She frantically scanned the camp. A howl went up from within the canvas shelter, where Lidda had just been. The barbarian knew that trouble was on the way.

He hefted his axe. The heady rush of a good fight would be welcome. He looked back at Mialee and Vadania. The women were startled by the sudden sound of the gnoll’s yell. Malthooz stood up beside Krusk. His eyes were wide. He held the quarterstaff in his hand but tossed it aside and grabbed the club from his belt. The symbol of Pelor dangled exposed from the cord around his neck.

Krusk whistled to Lidda, and she started toward the bushes where the half-orcs were hiding.

He turned to Malthooz and whispered, “Now you’ll get your first taste of battle. Keep close to the halfling, and remember what I taught you.”

He heard Malthooz offering up a hushed prayer.

A gnoll near the fire toppled over with an arrow sticking from its chest. Another reeled back as a stone from Vadania’s sling caught it in the side of the head. Krusk felt his blood rise. He wasn’t going to let the elf women show him up. The frustration of the past few days boiled in his veins, and he was going to make someone pay.

Lidda reached the barbarian’s side as the camp erupted.

“There was a trap,” she cursed. “I was careless.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Krusk said, stepping toward the camp. “Keep an eye on Malthooz.”

The barbarian let out a roar and charged into the clearing.

A small, elite band of gnolls reacted to their commander’s alarm immediately. They slipped from the tent nearest his, heavily armored and well armed, and fanned themselves across the campsite. Breaking into three groups, they took positions of cover around the scene. Each of them carried a longbow on its shoulder and had a cruelly curved sword at its hip. One of them sneered at its drunken pack mates, lashing out with its foot. The stricken soldier scrambled across the ground looking for its weapon.

Their commander, Yauktul, had long ago learned the usefulness of allowing his men to let off steam. He held his tongue as they drank themselves into a stupor, realizing that they would do it behind his back if he did not allow them the pleasure. He was tired of the work it took to keep all of his warriors in line, yet he realized the importance of having a solid core of loyal guards who would faithfully obey him at all times and who did not indulge in the foul drink enjoyed by their brethren. These dedicated guards were rewarded for their service, though their payment was kept quiet from the others to avoid unnecessary tension or outright mutiny.

The elite warriors appraised the situation, their superior night vision allowing them to take in everything. As one, they took the longbows from their shoulders and trained them on the startled intruders.

“Damn.”

Mialee heard Vadania’s curse as she spotted the gnolls with their bows trained on them. The wizard dropped to her knees and began casting a spell that would ward herself from attack. A barrier sprang into place in front of the women as she spoke the final words of magic.

Mialee reached for her bow as an arrow bounced harmlessly off the magic shield. She saw Vadania loose a bullet from her sling as a second arrow flew past the druid, within inches of her head.

“Cover me,” Vadania hissed as she let go of her sling and began casting a spell of her own.

Mialee fired with abandon, more interested in keeping the gnolls off guard than in scoring a hit. She fired time and again, raining a rapid barrage of arrows on the creatures. Gnolls scattered for cover as the hail of arrows whistled and clattered all around them.

Mialee heard the familiar scrape of a blade being drawn as Vadania stepped forth, brandishing the scimitar that she favored for close combat. In the center of the camp, a pair of wolves appeared. They burst into a tangle of gnolls, tearing through the creatures with their fangs.

Vadania ran toward the camp. “Lets go,” she hollered, “the wolves are a strong distraction, but they won’t last long.”

She raised her weapon and charged into the fray.

Mialee fired a volley of magical bolts at the nearest gnoll. The glowing spears burned through the creature’s thick fur and bit the soft flesh beneath. She watched as Vadania advanced, distracting a gnoll with a jet of flame from her palm before catching it across the cheek with her sword. The creature fell back, caught between its fear of magic and the harsh reality of steel. Vadania grabbed its arm as it turned, sending the blazing fire up its length. The gnoll fell to the ground screaming as its fur burst into flame.

Mialee plunged into the battle, loosing another round of magical spears as she went.

Malthooz heard the dull thud of arrows striking trees. He leaped to the side as one grazed past his ear. All around him he heard the buzz of missiles passing through the air.

“You’ll be cut to shreds up there,” Lidda said.

She grabbed his leg and yanked him down.

This was not at all what he expected. Things were happening too fast for him to deal with. He watched Krusk sprint from the edge of the forest. The barbarian moved directly on the closest pair of gnolls. The monsters dropped their bows and drew long swords as he rushed them, but before the blades could clear their sheaths, Krusk was upon them. The first gnoll went down soundlessly, sliced nearly in half at the waist. The second, having a moment more to react, squared off with Krusk, its sword raised against the barbarian’s blows.

The woods filled with the sound of combat. The clash of steel on steel rang in Malthooz’s ears as more arrows sailed over him. He held his club at his side. Sweat from his palm made the weapon hard to grasp. Beside him, Lidda was training her crossbow on the melee. Malthooz searched the woods for more danger. Shadows from the trees seemed to move and shift, taking on the appearance of moving foes.

Back in the clearing, Krusk and the gnoll were locked in combat. Malthooz watched as the two shifted back and forth. He winced as he watched the monster’s sword cut a gash in the barbarian’s leg.

Mialee and Vadania joined Krusk, moving into view from their spot at the edge of the clearing. Malthooz’s head spun with the fury of the scene. It was hard for the half-orc to tell his companions from his enemies. He had no idea where to begin.