By Volk-Oboroten'
Herman waited by the stables for Lowenherz to return, still unnerved by the odd smells he sensed there. Nearby he saw a band of lutins carrying torches for light, as twilight had ended long ago. As they headed for Caralore's forest gate, he heard heavier footsteps approaching.
"Lord Bertolf," said a crafty, sycophantic voice, "Our village was honored by your presence today. It is unfortunate you arrived on a day when we were attacked by Nasoj's minions, but at least they have done nothing else. Perhaps they were too frightened to act again, terrified of Pryftan's draconians."
Herman heard a growl for a moment and then another voice answered the first speaker, "Burgomaster, I appreciate your words, but I'm not a lord or even a commander. Valaric just sent me to make a report on conditions along the road from Caralore to Politzen. He won't be happy when I tell him about what happened here."
"So, you're heading directly back to Lik?"
"No, I'm going to proceed to Politzen, as instructed. Then, I'll go to Starven, where I hope to receive word as to whether Valaric is in the Dark Keep."
"A great deal of travel," muttered Tolvin. "But what about these lutins who came with you from Lik? They do not wear the Queen's badge! Are you going to dispose . . ."
"The lutins have already left the town as you requested," snapped Bertolf. "They will camp in the woods tonight and then head for Politzen in the morning. But I really believe that you are quite mistaken about them. Just because they don't wear the ankh . . ."
"Well, it's not really my problem," said Caralore's burgomaster. "The villagers are so upset about what happened that they are convinced those lutins serve Nasoj. They also fear that the wizard's sorcery has created new hazards in the woods, ready to strike at dawn."
"I doubt if Nasoj had anything to do with the dire bears."
"Perhaps you're right. But you'll be able to find out for yourself. Over by the stables, there's a fine steed ready for you. I'm going to head out of the gate soon, to inspect the defenses of Caralore. They've become run down over the last decade, so weak that they might not deter lutin raiders. You really should join me, as I'm certain Valaric would want this information. We'll find out if Nasoj has anything hidden . . ."
"I suppose you're right," grumbled Bertolf, as he walked over to the stables with Tolvin. Herman quickly slid to the side, using the darkness to ensure that he wasn't seen. Rounding a corner, he nearly ran into Lowenherz, who was running quickly in the other direction.
"By Artela," swore Herman, startled by the near collision. "Why are you in such a rush? You shouldn't even go in there. Lilith's dog is in the stables with the burgomaster, plotting some foul deed."
"Perun sent me as soon as he identified the Malachite monster in the stable. They've created a thing that only looks like a horse, but is actually something far worse," said Lowenherz. Then, handing a pouch to Herman, he added "Perun gave me this stuff to repel Gorthaur's creation. It's only effective if you throw it directly at the bayard's chest."
After peering inside the pouch, Herman remarked, "It looks just like ordinary flax seed. But I'll trust Perun, as he's been collecting information on the Malachite Order for months."
"I think they're about to leave the stables, so you better move quickly," advised Lowenherz, "I must return to Perun, for he wants me to gather other items, things that could be even more powerful wards against far fiercer fiends, like those dire bears. But for now, Herman, you must stop the bayard! Throw the seeds straight at the equine demon, and the beast will be forced to flee."
As Lowenherz began to head back into town, Herman noticed Tolvin leading a black steed through the forest gate of Caralore. Bertolf walked beside him, unwilling to ride within the burgomaster's city. After all, it was the custom not to mount a gift horse until one had gone outside the city walls.
As Herman hurried forward, he noticed that there was no guard at the gate. How strange? Where were the draconians? Soon, he discovered that Bertolf had similar concerns.
"Why isn't Pryftan here? Shouldn't he be watching for attackers?"
"Lilith's soldiers went off on a mission," said Tolvin, moving his hand along the braided green hair on the horse's mane. The oddly colored braids extended far down its neck, appearing like a spiked crest above its withers. "They had to fly, once the draconians heard a rumor that some lutins who were still loyal to Nasoj had come down from up north."
"An unlikely story," said Bertolf, eyeing Tolvin suspiciously. "I also don't understand why you want me to go out into the woods with you tonight. While Valaric rides a horse on occasion, I don't find it comfortable in this form. Lupine feet don't fit well in stirrups."
"But I insist. Would you reject our hospitality?" asked Tolvin.
Bertolf felt strangely drawn by the horse, as if it had some sort of mystical power. If he had to go on patrol, it would be so much easier to ride than to trudge through dark woods. But then, he recalled a warning from Ulthenia, about how the Malachites could disguise their servants as seemingly harmless creatures. Could this be a trap?
Before Bertolf responded, Herman ran out of the gate, clutching the bag of flax seeds. Running past Tolvin and Bertolf, he stopped directly in front of the horse. The enchanted beast immediately reacted to his presence, glaring back at him wide-eyed and grinning malevolently. It started to rear on its fetlocks, flailing its front hooves toward the stoat-man.
"You!" exclaimed Tolvin, startled by Herman's arrival. "We should have eliminated you before, Herman! No one rejects a gift from the Malachite . . ."
Drawing a short sword from his cloak, Bertolf said, "Malachite? So, you're finally being honest, burgomaster? It's a good thing Valaric sent me here."
Dark shapes began to approach from the trees as Tolvin laughed maniacally, "A good thing? Hah! I serve the infernal powers! Powers that own you, Bertolf!"
"No one owns me!" Bertolf exclaimed, grasping the hilt of his weapon.
"You will get on the horse now," ordered Tolvin. "The Black Claw sent one of his bayards here to transport you back to Cirith Morgul. There, you will learn a new meaning of pain. As his slave, you start a pack of werewolves, all sworn to obey the Nameless One."
Meanwhile, the bayard continued to threaten Herman, its red eyes glowing like fiery coals. In the dim light shed by the nearby lutin encampment, Herman could see that the beast did not have true hooves. Instead, its pasterns ended in things that looked like dark green claws. Claws that were elongating as each second passed, becoming sharper every moment. Tongues of smoke curled from between its talons, shining with the unholy light of infernal flames.
"You think you can defy us, Bertolf?" asked Tolvin, gazing contemptuously at Valaric's friend. "I have karuvati in the woods, ready to attack at my command. You will either come with us voluntarily, or we will force you to heed the Black Claw's commands."
"To the ninth hell with Gorthaur!" swore Bertolf, jumping to one side, pivoting away from Tolvin and his demonic horse. He could smell the approaching karuvati, sensing their foul feline stench getting ever closer. How could he fight an army of cat demons alone?
Meanwhile, Herman wondered what he should do about the monster which confronted him. The beast had already spit the bit out of its mouth, revealing lionlike fangs instead of equine teeth. It continued to buck and rear, forcing him to back away. As Herman retreated, the bayard pursued him into the shadows. Darkness seemed to rise behind it, blotting out the stars. Were those wings, stretching out from its huge, distended back?
"As for you," gloated Tolvin. "The Malachite Order determined your fate weeks ago, but I was restrained from acting. Don't kill him until it's convenient. But now, the stars are right!"
"It won't be that easy," said Herman, drawing a short dagger from his vest. "By Artela, I'll give you a good fight."
"Fight me?" snorted Tolvin, as three karuvati emerged from the trees. "Why would I fight a mere weasel when my servants can handle you with ease. But it might be better to let the bayard kill you. Once it feeds, the bayard will be fully energized, ready to fly quickly back to the Black Claw with Bertolf."
"You'll never take me alive!" declared Bertolf, dodging the karuvati.
As the feline Malachites tracked him, using their uncanny night vision, Tolvin grinned, enjoying their hunt for Bertolf. "It doesn't matter," commented Caralore's burgomaster. "Dead or alive, you belong to us. Valaric will never find out either. I'll just say that it was an unfortunate accident; you were waylaid by lutins at night and we never recovered the body."
At Caralore's gate, Lowenherz watched, feeling great anguish. He must help Herman! But just as he prepared to run, Lowenherz heard Akkala's voice, "Refrain from acts of war, Lowenherz. You must see Perun now, so the Malachites can be defeated."
"But Herman will be killed! Just like the dire bear killed that boy this morning!"
"You will fight again, but not this year, Lowenherz."
"Shouldn't I at least alert the villagers?"
"The bayard will not feed tonight. But you must hurry, for Herman and Bertolf will need your help soon. You need Perun's aid, for only magic can prevail against Tolvin's treachery."
Reluctantly, Lowenherz proceeded into the town, obeying the orders of his goddess. As he left, Herman did not notice, for he was fully occupied with avoiding the thick forearms of the bayard. What sort of dark sorcery had spawned this monstrosity? It was dreadful to behold, worse than any nightmare conjured in a dream sent by Nocturna.
The creature arched over him, acting as if it would trample him were it a true horse. But this was no herbivore, for its thick tongue licked over the edges of its sharp teeth, as the bayard greedily anticipated making a full meal. Herman then hurled the contents of his pouch.
Leaping backward as if it had been pierced by arrows, the bayard moaned with great pain. Fire burst from its nostrils as it clutched its mighty arms to its chest, which glowed yellow where the flax seeds had struck. Rising from the ground, the bayard spread its wings and fled south, racing toward a nearby pond. It dove into the water, leaving behind a billowing trail of smoke.
"How dare you!" shouted Tolvin, aghast at Herman's victory over the Malachite monster. The magical horse-demon did not reappear, for the water had apparently canceled its eldritch power. "Do you have any idea of how difficult it was for Fortinbras to procure a bayard? Well, I guess I'll just have to kill Bertolf, since I can't fly him back to the Emissary's fortress."
Hearing Tolvin's comment, the karuvati soldiers closed in on Bertolf, eager to attack. He fell back toward the light of the lutin camp, aware that darkness presented a great advantage to his catlike foes. Herman joined Bertolf's flight, also hoping to find refuge there.
Onward came the karuvati, jaws athirst for blood. They cared nothing for the lutins, as those pitiful creatures were so beneath them. Mere beasts, sheep led to the slaughter by Nasoj, or held in meek flocks by Queen Lilith. No lutin was a mighty hunter like the fierce karuvati!
As Bertolf approached the edge of the lutins' ring, surrounding their fire, a karuvati lunged forward, slashing at him with his claws. Before the Malachite could strike, its chest was pierced by a short spear. Dripping with blood, it sank to the ground as more lutin weapons pierced its side: well-honed elk antlers, short hatchets, and even darts from blow-guns. The lutins rushed forward, avid to defend Bertolf from their mutual enemies.
More karuvati arrived, plunging into the fray as Herman fought beside Bertolf, seeking to parry their mad assault. Like unfed lions descending upon a crowded sheepfold, the karuvati stormed forward. Leaping head first, one Malachite plunged into a lutin's green neck, rending flesh and sinew with his bloody maw. A nearby defender responded quickly, thrusting his sharp knife into the deranged beast, driving it hilt-deep into the karuvati's neck.
Carried away by slaughter and lust for blood, the karuvati continued to attack. Heedless of danger, they pressed on, determined to crush any who would resist them. "For Ulthar! For the Black Claw!" yelled one, as he hefted a huge battle-axe above his shoulders.
The karuvati swung his weapon down upon an unlucky lutin, smashing the axe down upon his head. Powered by wild rage, the Malachite's stroke split open the lutin's skull side to side, like a melon, splattering all nearby with green hair and bits of brain. Dripping gore, the karuvati triumphantly strode toward the fire, sure he could defeat any who dared to face him.
Bertolf and Herman soon proved that he was mortal. Bertolf's blade, thrust hard, stuck straight into the feline demon's ribs. As he reeled, dropping his axe next to a flaming log, Herman grabbed a thick spear which lay next to a fallen lutin. Herman hurled his weapon at the karuvati like a javelin, making sure his aim was true. Soon, the cat demon's neck belched forth blood, as his head collapsed onto his shoulder.
Once he pitched forward in death, thrown flat onto the ground, the Malachites retreated before the emboldened lutins. Now they felt fear, as the Black Claw's soldiers did not expect determined opposition.
"Artela has preserved us," declared Herman, brushing bits of blood and brain off his cloak. "But we must not let down our guard, for the Malachites may return."
Bertolf merely growled, as he searched the ground for the amulet he'd dropped during the battle. Herman spotted the stone next to his foot and handed it by its chain to Bertolf, recalling that the wolf warrior had worn it around his neck. As Bertolf carefully held the magic device to his throat, Herman stared at the emblem emblazoned on it: a triangle with three lines intersecting in its center.
"Where did you get this? I need to know!" demanded Herman, who immediately recognized the sacred symbol of the goddess Artela. "Is it from Valaric?" Perhaps Lilith's servants had stolen this amulet, defiling something which should only be held by one loyal to the true Mistress of the Wild.
"It's from Ulthenia," coughed Bertolf. "I can't talk with a muzzle unless I wear it."
Several lutins crowded around, looking at both Bertolf and Herman. One addressed Herman, while he wiped bits of karuvati flesh off his spear, "The magic rock saved us from bad lutins tonight. They all turn into cat demons in Lik and try to kill us. We ran here with wolf guide, left Lik because we spat on Lilith's ugly needle."
"Needle?" asked Herman. "The ankh of Lilith?"
"Not slaves! We hate goddess!" exclaimed another lutin. "Must flee from Queen's men."
"Took spears with us to fight," said a third. "Black Claw's soldiers pursued us to Caralore. Wants to drag us back to the bad place. Make us into cat demons 'cause we ain't like moon dogs."
"There are other goddesses," explained Herman. "Artela is the rightful ruler of all creatures of the forest. She wants to help the lutins now, to save them all from Lilith."
"I have not heard of Artela," said Bertolf, carefully watching to see if the karuvati were coming back, "but I'm willing to fight for anyone who opposes the Malachites."
A lutin stepped forward, looking up at Herman, "We never heard of Artela neither. If she fights for us, then Artela will be our queen."
"How touching," said a taunting voice out of the darkness. "I always thought lutins who refused the ankh were traitors, but now I'm certain."
"It's Tolvin!" shouted Bertolf, warning Herman and the lutins to be careful. "The burgomaster must have come back with more Malachites."
"A stunning observation," sneered Tolvin. "I'd expect Valaric to have sent someone with more intelligence. But it doesn't matter now, as you'll soon be dead."
"Artela will protect us," declared Herman. "We do not fear your empty threats."
"Let's see what the lutins think," continued Tolvin. "You're hopelessly outnumbered and can't possibly prevail against us. No one will help you. The villagers are sure you are working for Nasoj and Pryftan's draconians are out hunting for lutin rebels."
"We all fight cat demons," replied a defiant lutin.
"If you fight, you will all die," warned Tolvin. "Or you can turn over Bertolf and Herman to me, so I can execute the Black Claw's will. Then you will be spared, taken by the karuvati so you can be reformed, changed into beings fit to serve the Nameless One. Some day, soon, all beasts will obey the Black Claw. Even the Metamor demons will become his slaves"
"Never," swore another lutin. "None of us fight for second Nasoj."
"It's your choice," sighed Tolvin. "Your last choice. Join the Malachite Order or die."