Chương 47: Chapter 34: Dravak - The Hunt Begins

The Scouts returned around midday the next day. The cavern had already settled into its daily rhythm when Kesh slipped through the entrance with three Scouts at her back. Their steps were quiet, but the tension clinging to them wasn't. Dravak was sitting on his stone seat, waiting. Kesh approached, and didn't waste words.

"They've settled," she said.

"Not close, but they're moving through the forest as though it already belongs to them." Dravak gave an irritated grunt.

"We didn't find the den," Kesh continued, tapping one finger against the edge of her slate.

"But the signs are everywhere. Tracks in soft ground. Scat. Bones stripped clean." She paused.

"We also saw several hunting groups from a distance. Six to eight wolves in each. Sometimes more." She crouched and sketched quickly on the stone with a nub of charcoal. Lines for tree trunks. A jagged cut for a drop in the land.

"They're dragging kills northward," she said.

"We saw where they pulled a stag through a narrow gulch. Steep sides. Stone on both ends. Only one clean path through." Throk leaned forward, his attention fixed on the marks across Kesh's slate.

"They've used it more than once," Kesh added.

"The ground is torn up. They already trust the path." She looked up at Dravak.

"It's the best place to bleed them first." Dravak studied the rough sketch. Stone narrowed the approach. The wolves would be forced into a line, with no room to circle wide or strike from the flank. Good ground. He lifted his gaze to Kesh.

"You did well," he said.

"You found their habits and brought me ground worth fighting on." Kesh inclined her head, accepting the praise. Dravak lifted his voice to carry across the cavern.

"We have our first killing place. We leave at first light." His gaze moved through the gathered goblins before settling on Grub.

"You will remain here." Grub stepped forward.

"You and the four who stood beside you in the tests will guard the cavern," Dravak continued.

"The wounded. The children. Everyone who cannot march." A few goblins glanced toward the rear of the cave, where the tribe's youngest and weakest had gathered close enough to hear.

"If the wolves slip past us," Dravak said, "or something else comes while the warband is gone, you hold this place until we return." Grub inclined his head once.

"Yes, Chief." Dravak stepped down from the platform and stopped before him.

"You have kept my tribe breathing," he said, low enough that only those nearest could hear clearly.

"Now you keep its heart beating while we cut out its enemies." Grub held his gaze.

"I will." Dravak nodded and turned away. The cavern began moving again, but with greater purpose than before. Kesh's Scouts gathered food and water for the march. Warriors adjusted what they'd already prepared, adding rope, spare spearheads, and heavier wraps for the nights ahead. Grub returned to his supplies, collected the cloth-wrapped Quickleaf bundles, and carried them to Kesh.

"Quickleaf," he said as he handed it to her. Kesh opened the first bundle and examined the narrow leaves within.

"The reason Throk marched half a warband into the forest this morning?"

"Dravak chose the escort, not me."

"Throk has already complained about it several times." Grub shrugged.

"He returned alive enough to complain." Kesh's mouth twitched faintly, then her attention lowered to the leaves in her hands.

"What does it do?"

"Chewing it pushes back tiredness and makes it easier to stay alert. One leaf is enough for a small goblin. Two have a stronger effect."

"For how long?"

"About half an hour." Kesh glanced toward the Scouts arranging their packs.

"And afterward?"

"The tiredness comes back harder. Some nausea too, but only for a few minutes. Don't give it to anyone unless they're about to fight, stand a difficult watch, or need to keep moving when exhaustion becomes dangerous."

"And no more than two?"

"Probably. At least not until I've tested it more. Just don't let anyone take another dose before the first has completely worn off. I have no clue what happens then." Kesh snorted softly, then wrapped the leaves again and divided the bundles among the supplies she would carry.

"You make strange weapons, Grub."

"It isn't a weapon." She tucked the final bundle away.

"Anything that helps me kill a wolf before it kills me is close enough." At first light the following morning, the warband set out, thirty-five goblins stretching into a narrow column that disappeared into the mist. Dravak led from the front with his axe resting across his shoulders. The hills stood gray and silent around them, but direwolf howls drifted between the trees ahead like a warning, closer than they had been the night before, one call overlapping another before fading into the distance.

He kept the warband moving at a hard pace. Wet grass whipped against their calves, and each breath clouded briefly before their faces in the cool autumn air. By the time the sun began burning through the mist, another warning had reached them. Musk. Old blood. Wet fur. They'd entered ground the wolves already considered theirs. Kesh ranged far ahead of the column, appearing briefly between the trees before vanishing into the undergrowth again.

Silent Step swallowed the rustle of brush and the scrape of loose stone beneath her feet. Whenever she returned, her reports were brief. Tracks crossed and recrossed through the softer ground. Droppings found beneath a stand of pines were still warm. The wind carried the wolves' scent from somewhere north of them, though the uneven terrain made the distance difficult to judge. They were getting closer. Throk stalked several paces behind Dravak, shield hanging loosely from one arm and sword in the other.

A thin grin had settled across his face, widening whenever another howl carried through the trees. Dravak knew that look. The wolves were dangerous, the ground uncertain, and any mistake could cost the tribe dearly. Throk had never looked more at ease. Give him an enemy ahead, a weapon in his hand, and a fight that would end in victory or death, and the rest of the world became simple. The killing ground lay exactly where Kesh had promised. The warband approached it from above.

A narrow gulch cut between two stone ridges below them, its floor worn smooth by old floods and years of passing animals. The walls pressed close on either side, leaving only a thin strip of ground through the center. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Anything entering would have to come straight through. Dravak studied the gulch from the ridge, following its bends and the broken shelves of stone overlooking it. Then he nodded.

"We wait here." The Ironfang descended and spread into a rough line across the throat of the gulch. It wasn't a true shield wall. Their shields were scavenged and mismatched, some round, some long, several cracked and held together with rawhide. Only a handful of Warriors carried one at all. Those goblins took the front where they could, shields angled outward while spear points crowded through the spaces between them at uneven heights.

The rest filled in behind, close enough to drive their weapons forward without tangling the shafts. Kesh walked the line once the formation had settled. She stopped beside the four goblins in the front and handed each of them two Quickleaves.

"Keep them dry," she said.

"When you hear two whistles, chew and swallow both. The effect takes time." One of the shield bearers eyed the leaves skeptically.

"This is Grub's herb?"

"Yes," Kesh said.

"What if it makes me sick?"

"It will," she replied.

"After it helps you." The goblin looked even less reassured. Throk glanced over from nearby.

"The mad little bastard ate it first. Then he stood there watching while the others tried it." He bared his teeth in a grin.

"No one died." Kesh held the leaves out again.

"For a while, you'll be more awake. Faster to notice what's coming. When it wears off, the tiredness returns harder, and your stomach may turn." The shield bearer took them reluctantly.

"Two whistles, then chew." Kesh kept two leaves for herself, then climbed with several Hunters into the broken shelves overlooking the gulch. They carried their bows and spears with them, along with stones large enough that two goblins were needed to drag some of them into place. From the highest ledge, Kesh could see nearly the entire approach. She settled behind a spur of rock, bow resting across her knees, and waited. The first hour passed quietly. Then another.

The warband below shifted only when cramped legs or stiffening fingers demanded it. No one spoke above a whisper. Every scrape of stone seemed loud enough to carry through the hills. A breeze entered the gulch from the north and brought the wolves' scent with it. Several goblins raised their spears, but nothing appeared. The tension eased by a fraction, then gathered again. It was well into the morning when Kesh finally saw movement among the trees beyond the far entrance.

At first it was only a flicker of gray between two trunks. Then another. Large bodies slipped through the forest beyond the gulch, still distant enough that the trees hid more than they revealed. Kesh raised two fingers. The Hunters beside her gripped their stones. She gave two low whistles. Across the gulch, the four chosen Warriors pulled out their Quickleaves and began chewing. Their mouths twisted at the bitter taste. Kesh placed her own leaves between her teeth, chewed, and swallowed.

Nothing happened immediately. Below, Dravak watched the trees while the warband settled into silence again. The wolves slowly drew closer. They paused often, sniffing the ground or testing the air before continuing. A prickling sensation spread across Kesh's tongue and gums. Her heartbeat quickened. The weariness left by the long march and longer wait began to loosen its hold, not disappearing so much as retreating somewhere beyond immediate notice. Small details became easier to follow.

A gray ear turning among the trees. A paw passing through pale grass. The slight movement of brush where another body followed. Along the center of the line, Dravak saw the four Warriors straighten. Hands that had begun to cramp around spear shafts flexed and closed again. Their attention remained fixed upon the mouth of the gulch. Six direwolves emerged from the trees. Unease passed through the warband at the sight. Most of the Ironfang had never seen one so close.

The wolves were massive, larger than any common forest wolf, their shoulders rising nearly five feet and towering above the goblins waiting before them. Thick muscle crowded their necks and ribs. Their paws struck the stone with slow, heavy certainty, while steam curled from their jaws with every breath. They entered the gulch at a confident lope. Their bodies remained loose. Their ears turned toward every small sound, but they showed no fear. Dravak lowered the axe from his shoulders.

He waited until all six had entered the narrow stretch and noticed the waiting goblins. Then he roared. Rallying Cry surged through the gulch. The sound struck the warband like a rush of heat. Backs straightened. Grips steadied. Fear remained, but it no longer ruled their hands. The front rank drew closer together and raised their shields. The wolves hesitated, their confident pace breaking for a single heartbeat as dozens of goblins answered Dravak's roar with voices of their own.

Before they could charge or flee, Kesh cut one hand downward. The stones fell. One particularly large rock struck the leading wolf directly on the skull. Bone cracked audibly beneath the impact, and the beast dropped without another step. A second stone slammed into the back of another wolf. Its spine folded beneath it, hindquarters crumpling as its chest struck the ground. The remaining four surged forward. They hit the Ironfang line in a rush of fur, teeth, and weight. Shields jolted backward.

Spear shafts bowed between hands. One shield bearer lost his footing on the smooth stone and slid half a pace, opening a gap beside him.

"Hold," Dravak snapped. Battlefield Command carried the order through the confusion. The fallen Warrior drove one foot beneath himself and forced his shield upright. Two spears angled across the opening before the nearest wolf could exploit it. The beast lunged anyway. It met sharpened points instead of flesh and twisted aside with a snarl, one spearhead tearing a line across its chest. Another wolf came low beneath the shields. Its jaws closed around a Warrior's calf.

The goblin screamed as the wolf wrenched him from his feet. Spears stabbed into its shoulders and ribs, but the beast refused to release him. It dragged the Warrior away from the line, claws scraping across stone as it pulled him toward the surviving members of the pack. Throk surged forward as another wolf swung a paw toward the goblin beside him. He drew upon Hardskin Focus an instant before the paw struck his shoulder. The blow twisted him sideways, but the claws failed to tear as deeply as they should have.

Throk kept his footing. The wolf hesitated, thrown off by prey that had not gone down as it expected. Spear points drove into its ribs and flank. The beast twisted toward the new pain, exposing the underside of its neck. Throk slammed the rim of his shield into the side of its head, then drove his sword upward through the throat. The wolf shuddered. He ripped the blade free, and blood poured across the stone as the beast collapsed at his feet. Above them, Kesh drew and fired.

Her first arrow sank into the eye of the wolf whose spine had been crushed by the falling stone, ending its thrashing. Her second struck the foreleg of a wolf pressing against the shield line. The limb buckled, ruining its balance and forcing it sideways into the waiting spears. The next wolf tried to leap past the shields entirely. Kesh aimed and cast her Crippling Shot. The arrow punched into the shoulder joint in midair.

The foreleg folded beneath the beast as it landed, and the leap ended in a heavy tumble across the stone. Three Warriors descended upon it before it could rise, spears driving into its chest and belly in a tight, brutal rush. The goblin that had been dragged from the line was not fortunate enough to be saved. The wolf holding his leg jerked him around, exposing his upper body. Another set of jaws found his throat and closed once. His hands rose halfway, grasping at nothing, before falling still.

Dravak reached the killer an instant later. His axe struck behind its skull and drove deep enough that the wolf collapsed across the body of the goblin it had slain. For several moments, the gulch held only the groans of the wounded and the frantic scrape of paws against stone. Five direwolves already lay dead. The sixth broke and ran. It turned and bolted toward the far end of the gulch, claws slipping once in the blood coating the ground.

"After it," Dravak ordered. He was moving before the words had finished leaving him. The Ironfang spilled from the choke point in pursuit. The surviving wolf was wounded, but desperation lent it speed. It bounded over loose stone and tore through the brush beyond the gulch, leaving streaks of blood across leaves and pale rock. Several goblins fell behind. The Warriors who had taken Quickleaf didn't. The herb still worked on them, keeping fatigue at a distance as they followed Dravak and Throk through the trees.

Shortly after, they managed to corner the wolf against a broken wall of stone. It turned before the first goblin reached it. The Warrior came too eagerly, spear extended ahead of his body. The wolf slipped past the point and closed its jaws around his skull. Bone broke with a dull crack. Throk struck the beast from the side before it could pull away. His shield drove into its ribs, pinning it long enough for his sword to sink into its flank. The wolf twisted and snapped at him.

Throk jerked backward just far enough for its jaws to close on empty air. More Ironfang arrived. Spears drove it against the stone and held it there until its struggles weakened, then stopped. For a time, no one moved except to breathe. Dravak looked toward the trees, listening for answering howls or the rush of more bodies through the brush, but nothing came.

"Back to the gulch," he said. The warband returned to the killing ground and began the slow work that followed battle. The Quickleaf remained active while they checked the wounded, gathered dropped weapons, and searched the edges of the gulch for signs that another hunting party might be near. The three living Warriors who'd taken it moved quickly from one task to another. Kesh meanwhile remained alert upon the ridge, bow in hand, watching the trees while the others began cutting into the dead wolves' hides.

The first pelt had nearly come free when the herb finally released its hold. One shield bearer paused, bent over with both hands resting on his knees. Another blinked several times and rolled his shoulders as if his armor had suddenly doubled in weight. Then the fatigue returned in full. The first goblin lowered himself against the gulch wall, breathing heavily through his nose. A second swallowed hard and turned away from the wolf he had been skinning, one hand pressed against his stomach.

Kesh felt it a few moments later. The clarity that'd carried her through the battle thinned. The ache in her legs returned, joined by the strain of holding her bow drawn and the weight of the hours spent crouched upon the ledge. A faint nausea gathered beneath her ribs. She sat back against the rock and drank from her waterskin. Throk glanced toward the goblins sagging along the wall, then chuckled.

"Grub's leaf takes its payment."

"He said it would," Kesh replied. One of the shield bearers retched onto the stone, though little came up. Throk watched him for another moment.

"Still worth it?" The goblin wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.

"Ask the wolf that missed me." Throk barked a laugh. Dravak allowed the affected goblins several minutes for the worst of the sickness to pass. Then the Ironfang finished skinning the wolves and folded the heavy pelts for later collection. The two dead goblins were carried above the gulch. The tribe scraped shallow graves from the stony ground and laid them inside with their hands folded over their chests. Their weapons were reclaimed before the earth and loose stone covered them.

No spear could be buried while the Ironfang still had enemies to fight. When the graves were finished, Dravak turned north once more. The warband gathered its weapons and returned to the trail. The work had only begun.