Chapter 43: 43. Heric

Heric stalked.

He crept through the undergrowth, his blade ready.  He felt his route through the mesh of vegetation.  Only a few twinkling stars, peeking through the clouds, offered him any light.  The moon had not yet risen. 

Midges feasted on the exposed parts of his body, as a chorus of frogs, crickets and waterfowl drew his attention.  It competed with the buzzing in his ears, which grew louder and more persistent. A legacy of his fight with the Hobgoblin.  It became more pronounced whenever he was weary.

Likewise, his ribs ached again.  He had carried too much.  He felt the twinge as he tried to lower Fahesha to the ground.  A sharp pain, not as intense as the Hobgoblin’s strike, but still annoying and worrisome.  

He hid it from Ifonsa and Fahesha.  The others depended too much upon him.  He couldn’t let them down, or allow them to find out he wasn’t at his best.  That would unsettle them.  He’d seen what happened when companies lost their captains.  He would not allow that to happen. He’d wait until they were safe in Lord Fastri’s Keep before he sought help.

On the return journey, Ifonsa had found a place where the water wasn’t so deep, only up to Heric’s thigh. A ford, of sorts.  It would make it much easier for the others to cross.  Even Fahesha could have waded.  Yet it was far away from their original launching point.

Once back on the near shore, Ifonsa pushed ahead, disappearing into the shadows. Meanwhile, Heric plodded through the undergrowth, using the water’s edge as a guide.  Never before had he experienced such tiredness.  All he wished to do was sleep.  He found himself dozing even as he walked.

Abruptly he heard a cry from the others.  It pierced the night and silenced the chorus.  He halted, listening.  Yet only silence lingered.  He pressed forward, initially picking his way through the brush, as the buzzing loudened until he could hear nothing else.

Fearing the worst, he plunged toward where he believed the group was located.  He hacked at the vines that got in his way, slashing them with his sword. Leaping over a rotting log, he darted between the trunks, then lunged through a dense thicket, to find himself in a narrow clearing...

And the others all staring at him.

 

Later, Lera spoke to him.  However her words were drowned out by the buzzing sounds.  

He nodded anyway.  They needed to be packed, and away over the water as soon as possible.  They couldn’t afford the time for Lera’s ministrations.  He must have given her the answer she was seeking because she left to join the others, as they continued loading up the kit.

Heric gazed around, keeping an eye out for any danger, not that he could see much in the darkness.  He peered out across the water towards where Fahesha was waiting.  

He expected she must be worried by now.  They had been gone for perhaps a quarter hour.  Maybe more.

Ifonsa touched his arm.  He concentrated on her lips, trying to work out the words.  She gestured in the direction of the ford.  A quick glance told him the others were ready.  He nodded.  

Together they moved off as group, moving down to the ford. Even in the darkness, they found it easily.  Ifonsa led them across, with Heric at the rear just in case any of the others ended up in difficulties.  It also meant that they walked in front of him, so he’d recognise when they spoke to him. However they crossed without incident, reaching the desolation on the far side.

While not everywhere was burnt, there was enough blackened patches, evident in the starlight, for it to be worrying.  It looked as though a dragon patrolled the area, burning everything before it with its breath.  Yet sprigs of grass sprouted from the earth, even in the burnt areas.

Heric had never journeyed to The Ardúnfær before.  He’d been warned away from it, especially by Sir Helmund. Yet his former lord had died within its midst, within sight of Frileah itself (if rumours were to be believed). He wondered if the same fate awaited him and his company.

Heric notice a commotion unfurling about him.  Everyone was spread out, and it appeared as though they were seeking something...someone.  Fahesha, he realised belatedly.

They found her curled in in one of the burnt out logs.  At first Heric believed she was dead, but when Tegalie reached out to shake her, she opened her eyes.  Her lower face was still covered, but even in the dim light Heric saw Fahesha’s smile. She had been asleep.  Heric envied her that brief nap.

As Tegalie helped the goblin woman out of the stump, Heric turned and climbed the rise they had seen from the far side.  He probably should have done this earlier, but he’d been too tired before.

Just as he reached the crest, the first sliver of the full moon appeared behind him in the east. It emerged unusually large, the silvery light revealing the undulating plain that confronted them.  Pools dotted the landscape, and in some places, the moonlight caught traces of steam (or smoke) rising from them. 

He sensed the change when it happened.  Looking back, the others were too busy to noticed it.  It was as though a strong breeze out of the east had suddenly blown away the ever-present miasma that haunted The Ardúnfær.

Peering across the water, he saw the first signs of the attack.  It resembled a dark wave, stretching forth from the forested shore.  It shivered as it reached the water, slowing but not stopping.  Gradually it loomed across the distance, drawing closer and closer.

Heric cried out as he ran down the slope.  He pointed at the water, but he could tell from their expressions the others couldn’t see the approaching wave.

“Grab everything!” he hollered, although it sounded to him barely louder than a whisper. “Up the hill. Go! Go! Go!”

Fortunately they didn’t query his command.  They each grabbed what they could reach, then turned and fled.  Heric slung his pack and a couple of sacks (connected together by a thin cord), then raced after them.  Glancing back he couldn’t see the mass, but he could sense its approach.

It wasn’t until he neared the top of rise that he saw the shadowy cloud again.  Under the moonlight it appeared to wriggle and writhe. 

As it reached the shore he realised why.

“Snakes!” he cried.  Masses upon masses of snakes.  Maybe every snake within a league, perhaps the entirety of Thelna Moor, slithered towards them.

Heric glanced behind, across the forsaken plain.  There was nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run.  He looked around for a spot where he wouldn’t stumble into any of the pools, then settled himself, his sword ready.

The snakes swarmed up the rise towards him.  There must have been hundreds upon hundreds of them, the moonlight catching their glistening skin.

Heric felt a touch on his arm.  Ifonsa.  She pointed to where the others had gathered, crammed together into a circle, drawn in the dirt.  Ifonsa darted over to it.  Heric followed.  He squeezed in, not really understanding what hope was being offered, but it was better than the hopelessness that awaited him outside the circle.

The groove surrounding them filled with a bubbling liquid, thick and black.  Magic, Heric realised.  His gaze went to Falduin, who was in the centre of the circle, everyone else surrounding him. Falduin’s lips moved.  He was casting a spell.

Heric found that Lera was watching him.  She said something to him.  He nodded.  She said something else and everyone, but Falduin, laughed.  Heric laughed along, just for appearances.

Their mirth was interrupted as the black liquid suddenly expanded up, almost forming a dorm around them.  Everything and everyone within was diffused with silver, as though lit by the moon. The liquid abruptly swirled and shivered as if something outside was striking at it.  There must have been sounds too.  The fear on the faces of his companions was absolutely palpable. The threat seemed to be all around them, his companions’ gazes darting about.  All except Lera.

She pushed her way up to him.  She said something, and he nodded again.  She nodded back, slowly, her expression resignation mixed with amusement.  She touched her ear.  Nodded.  The gig was up, he realised.  He nodded.

“Buzzing,” he said, entirely too loudly.  Lera winced.

Lera pointed to her eye, then at his ear.  

He nodded.  He removed his helmet and lowered his head so she could see inside his ear.  Her hands were warm.  Her touch steady, but tender.  She guided his head so she could look into his other ear.  Then she turned him so he could see her.  She mouthed words, as she pointed at his ears, but he couldn’t understand.

Lera turned to Ifonsa.  She asked something to her and Ifonsa nodded.  Lera asked again, and Ifonsa handed over the pointed knife she wore at her hip.  

Lera held the knife up for Heric to see.  She placed it to her own ear and mimicked guiding it inside.  Then pointed at him.

Heric nodded and offered his left ear without hesitation.  He trusted Lera implicitly.

He felt the tip of Ifonsa’s knife enter his ear. A stabbing pain, like a bite.  He jerk his head away, and was barraged with loud booming noises, like thunder constantly erupting overhead. It came from the dome.  The buzzing continued in his right ear.

“Can you hear me now?” Lera shouted

Heric nodded, wiping the blood leaking from his ear away.  Then he saw what was impaled upon the end of the knife.  A bug of some kind.  It still lived, struggling to free itself.

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“Gerárfe or buzzing bug,” Lera told him. “That’s what happens when you lie on the ground in a swamp.  Bend over so I can get the other one.” 

Heric waved her away, “Later. I can hear.”

“But they might have laid eggs.”

“Is the noise the snakes?”

Lera nodded, “It’s quieter than it was.”

The thunderous noise had dimmed even in the short amount of time since Heric’s hearing had returned.  He wondered what caused the sound.  Were the snakes attacking the barrier or was it just the sound of so many of them slamming into it as they passed by?

Heric’s gaze went to Falduin.  The wizard sweated profusely.

“How long can he keep up the shell?” Heric asked.

Lera glanced to Falduin. “I don’t know,” she said, her tone worried. “Do you have any plans?” she asked Heric.

“No.”

“Then bend over so I can get the other bug.”

 

Only long after the drumming against the protective barrier had stopped, did the liquid lower itself back down into the groove.  The snakes were gone, but they had left a wide blemish by their passage.  It reminded Heric of a battlefield, long after the dead had been cleared.   

Through their sheer weight of numbers they had chewed up the ground around them as far as the moonlight would allow him to see.  It extended from the water, all the way into the distance across the plain. 

Falduin gasped and faltered.  In that same instance, the black liquid dissipated into a cloudy mist.  Ganthe caught Falduin then gently lowered him to the ground. Lera raced to tend to him.

“What just happened?” Tegalie asked.

“Did you not see the snakes?” Ifonsa quipped.

“But where did they come from?”

“Guess!” Ifonsa turned to Heric, “We need to leave,” she told him.

“Once Falduin is ready to travel,” Heric said, “Grab whatever kit you can.  Scout around in case we left some behind.”

Ifonsa nodded and slipped away.  Fahesha followed after her, heading back towards the water.

“What if the snakes come back?” Tegalie asked, her voice surprisingly filled with fear.

Heric gazed across the plain.  He shook his head. “They won’t,” he whispered.

“How can you be so certain?”

“Did you ever meet Sir Helmund?”

Tegalie shook her head, “I’ve only heard about him. My father spoke kindly. He must have been a great man.”

Heric nodded, “He was a master tactician.  The best I have ever known,” Heric said, his voice soft. “He taught me that if you frighten your enemy, you may not need to fight him. This attack was designed to frighten.  To slow, not kill us.  They want you alive.” Heric gazed back across the water, “They are close.  Can you not feel them?”

Below, near the water, Ifonsa collected one of the sacks they had left behind.  Suddenly,  Fahesha raced across the ground towards her, dropping what she was carrying as she ran.

“I can feel something, “ Tegalie began, “but-“

Fahesha slapped the sack from Ifonsa’s grasp as she yelled.  

As quick as a flash, Ifonsa drew her special knife from where she kept it hidden on her back. “Keep away from me!” she screamed.  She waved the knife menacingly.

Heric charged towards Ifonsa and Fahesha, intending to intervene, but knowing it would be all over before he reached them.

It happened too fast.  He missed most of it.  Fahesha kicked out.  The sack went flying.  

“Oh no!” the goblin woman said, as she  stumbled to the ground.  

Ifonsa pounced.  Her knife slicing through the cloth and into Fahesha’s left thigh. 

Fahesha cried out in pain  

Then to Heric’s surprise, Ifonsa lowered her mouth to the wound.

“Get away from her!” Heric cried.

Ifonsa lifted her head, spat, and then returned to her feast.

Tegalie reached them first.  However, instead of grappling with Ifonsa, The Princess moved to cradle Fahesha.

Ifonsa spat again, and only then did Heric see the reason for the furore.

He lifted his sword high, and slammed it down onto its neck.  The black head popped off, as the tiny snake was cleaved into two.  The body continued to writhe and coil, as the head opened its mouth ready to bite whatever came near.

Heric looked to the open sack, disgorging its content of dried fruit upon the ground.  It must have been hiding within.  Fahesha had noticed, and tried to warn Ifonsa.

Fahesha cried out in pain.  Tegalie spoke, tears rolling down her cheeks.   Fahesha replied.  A whispered conversation, hasty and desperate.

Fahesha spasmed.  Tegalie wailed.  Ifonsa sucked.  Lera arrived...but too late.

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