Chapter 45: 45. Falduin, Tegalie, Ganthe, Ifonsa, Heric, and Lera

Falduin prepared.

He placed Fahesha so that she covered the small pool. Fortunately she had stiffened, the blanket forming a tight shroud.  Behind him, Tegalie sobbed quietly.

“This the only option,” Heric told her.  “There are too many.”

Falduin felt someone approach:  Lera.  She held out a wad of soiled rags to him.  They were tightly bound with strips of cloth, that might have been white originally.

“Place this on her body,” she said.

“What is it?” Falduin asked.

“My blood.  It will help attract them.”

“”You cut yourself-?” Falduin began.

“No, I did not!” Lera interjected. “You and I really need to have a talk-.  Don’t look inside them!”

Falduin stopped unwrapping  the rag layers. He glanced at Lera.

“Just place them inside the blanket,” she explained, gently.

He nodded and complied, slipping the bundle in-between the outer folds.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You need to step back,” he told her.  He turned and addressed the rest of them. “This may not work.  It is for the best that you all leave. Get away from here as fast and as far as you can.   I will catch up if I am able.”

They all looked at him, but he only had eyes for Lera.  Even in the moonlight he could see she was trying to hold back tears.  

“Go,” Falduin said.  “You’re wasting time.”

“I will stay,” Ifonsa said.

Falduin was about to protest, but the look Ifonsa gave him stilled the objection in his throat.  It wasn’t up for negotiation.  Instead, he just nodded to her.

“Follow the moon straight toward the hills,” Ifonsa told the others.  The moon had already passed its zenith, heading westward.  “You should see the lights of Frileah soon.  Make straight for them.”

Heric nodded, “Let’s move.”

The others set out.  They carried only what they absolutely needed, leaving behind even the food.  If they didn’t reach Frileah before the goblins caught up to them, they would never need it.

Falduin watched them depart for a long moment, then turned to regard the approaching torches.  They were closer.  Much too close.  He didn’t have much time.  He returned his attention to wrapped bundle before him.

“This had better work,” Ifonsa said moving up to join him.  She already had her bow strung and an arrow ready.

“If it doesn’t,” Falduin said, “We’ll not have to worry about it, or anything else, ever again.”  

He closed his eyes and reached out toward the Essence.

 

Tegalie fought.

She battled fatigue.  Despite the fear of the approaching goblins, she struggled just to keep moving.  Her head kept sagging forward, her chin jostling on her chest, before she was shocked back to a brief wakefulness.

She battled grief.  Every waking thought remained on Fahesha, especially how she could have prevented her sister’s death.  She kept replaying the scene over in her mind, trying to conceive some way to avoid the horrible tragedy.

She battled pain.  A familiar knot grew in her belly.  At first, she thought it was just her grief manifesting itself, but now she understood it was not.  She feared that it was what Lera had hinted at...just this morning.  It felt like a week ago that Lera had promised to brew up the leaves.   Unfortunately they had not had any opportunity, being constantly on the run, and the plants had been left behind with much everything else.

Tegalie knew she would need to do something soon, to warn the others that she needed to stop.  But not just yet.  Perhaps she should talk with Lera first.  

The Priestess paced ahead, keeping her head down, and puffing loudly.  Every now and again she glanced back, seeking her beloved.  They had so far hurried toward the hills for what, to Tegalie, felt like at least an hour.  Yet there was no sign of Falduin, nor Ifonsa.

Abruptly, the land around them bathed in a brilliant yellow and orange light.  They all stopped and turned to look back.  On the horizon a plume of fire blazed into the sky, as waves of flames rolled out from either side, spreading ever outward.

Lera uttered a sharp cry of despair.

Tegalie could hear Heric counting, quietly to himself.

As the plume boiled away into the night, and the waves of flame furled, they left behind a blazing scene of utter devastation.  It reminded Tegalie of her mother’s descriptions of The Underworld.  It looked as though the entire plain behind them had caught alight.  Nothing, Tegalie was certain, could have survived such destruction.

She glanced at Lera.  The Priestess stared stony-faced at the firestorm.  She had come to the same conclusion.

Tegalie didn’t know how to feel.  Fahesha had been at the heart of that blast.  Her sister, her friend, was gone.  Her body totally destroyed.  Yet her soul had been saved.  Lera had told Tegalie that even goblins could find their way to the Heavens.  That Fahesha would be waiting for them there when their own time came.  Presuming they lived good and nobles lives.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder smacked them all in the face. It was quickly  followed by many further rumbles.

“Less than a league,” Heric said.  “They could reach here within an hour. Likely sooner.”

Tegalie glanced westward.  The outline of the hills had barely changed since they had left Falduin and Ifonsa.

“We’re not going to make it,” Tegalie said, too loudly.

“We’ll make it,” Heric reassured her.  “Get moving.”

And so they began again.  Tegalie glanced behind her.  Heric remained staring at the flames for a moment.  Then reluctantly, he hurried after them.

 

Ganthe pondered.

Something was wrong.  More wrong.  Apart from being in a place where the water and air could catch alight with the simple touch of a spark or flame.  Apart from being chased by something dark and malicious, that had somehow escaped the gates of the Underworld.  Apart from being pursued by gobs of goblins...  He liked that phrase, gobs of goblins.  If their plight hadn’t been so dire he would have laughed. Instead he listened, and tried to work out what was so wrong.

He could hear his own breathing, and that of the others; their footsteps;  the jingling and rattling of armour.  There was another sound, actually many sounds, just at the edge of hearing.  Their own movements masked it.

He stopped, and crouched low.  He drew his two goblin knives.  The sword he had left behind with the rest of the kit.  It would only served to slow him.  He lurked.  Listening.

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Yes, there it was.  Off to the side, avoiding being silhouetted by the fiery glow at the horizon.  Very clever.

Ganthe set off in pursuit.

 

Ifonsa hurt.

She had been too close when the blast ignited.  They were many hundreds of paces away, and it was still too close.   The detonation left its legacy.  Ifonsa was foggy-headed.  She found it hard to think.  It also left her ears ringing. 

She tried to make sense of what had happened.  Falduin had laid a trap. He had placed a ward or enchantment on Fahesha’s body.  If it was disturbed the ward would explode, causing the surrounding waters and airs to catch alight.  Yet something had gone wrong, Falduin had warned her.

“Or very, very right,” he had added.  

That’s why he had insisted they hide in the gully.   They waited there far too long.  She wanted to leave, but Falduin told  her they would die if they were caught in the open when the ward triggered.  He wouldn’t even allow her to peek to see how close the goblins were.

Then she heard the goblins’ voices, and she knew it was too late to run.

“Place you hands over your ears,” Falduin said.

“Why?”

“Just do it,”

She felt stupid and vulnerable.  Goblins might stumble upon them at any moment, and they wouldn’t even hear it until it was too late. Yet she complied without comment.

Then the night exploded.  A brilliant flash followed by thunder.  It left her reeling.  Barely conscious.

“Up!” Falduin prompted.  He helped her to her feet. 

She gazed blankly around at the devastation.  It was awe-inspiring.  And beautiful as well.  Flame littered the ground.  Even the pools near them blazed with a blue fire.

“Run,” Falduin said. “They’ll be here soon.”

Ifonsa didn’t believe him.  Nothing could survive that blast and the inferno it caused.  

Yet she ran, with Falduin guiding her.

 

Heric worried.

Ganthe had disappeared.  He was guarding their rear flank as usual one moment, yet the next time Heric glanced back Ganthe was nowhere to be seen.  

It wasn’t that he had disappeared, he did that on occasion. However, Ganthe normally alerted Heric of any action beforehand.  Either he hadn’t had the opportunity, or he was worried about signalling his intent.  Either were equally bad in Heric’s mind.

With Falduin and Ifonsa gone, and now with Ganthe missing, Heric got the uneasy feeling they were being picked off one-by-one.  There was just him and Lera to defend and escort Tegalie, and none of them were in good shape.

Not only were they all exhausted, but his ribs ached.  Lera too displayed signs of her own injury, although she made no mention of it.   Heric wondered: If they were confronted by even a small force, would they be capable of defending themselves?

The land began to rise.  At first, Heric believed they had stumbled all the way to the hills without realising it.  However it was just a ridge.  It rose up sharply, curving into a flatter area at the top.

“Lights,” Tegalie said as she reached the crown.

Heric glanced behind.  He could just see the glow of the flames in the far distance, but the actual fires had passed beyond his eyesight. 

“Where?” he asked.

“The hills.”

Turning back he saw there was indeed a glow lighting up one of the hills.  The lights of a town.  It couldn’t have been more than half-a-league away. The ridge had prevented them from seeing it.

His foot struck something hard, sending it clattering across the ground.  It made a metallic clangour. 

He stopped, his eye desperate to find the object in the darkness. There it was, the setting moon reflecting off the metallic surface. Heric walked over , and retrieved it from the ground.  It was a knight’s helmet, sloped and pointed at the top.   

Heric held it in his hands, remembering.

 

Lera stopped.

She realised that Heric was no longer with them.  She turned and looked back up toward the ridge.  Heric remained at the top.  He held a helmet in his hands, just staring at it.

“Heric?” Lera said.  Then when he didn’t response, “Heric?”

“Where’s Ganthe?” Tegalie asked, moving over to join Lera.

“Heric?” Lera called again.

“This was Sir Helmund’s helmet,” Heric said.  “This is where he and the others of my company died.”

“We don’t have time,” Lera reminded him. “You have your own company now.”

“What’s left of it,” Heric said.  He dropped the helmet into the dirt.  It tumbled away with a loud, hollow rattle.  “Sorry,” he said heading down to join them.  “As for Ganthe, I do not know.  He will return if he is able.  Come on.  One last push.”

However, before any of them could move there was a cry of pain from the eastern side of the ridge. 

All three of them raced back up to the top of the ridge.

There below them they saw Ganthe hobbling desperately, an arrow sticking out of his back.  He was being pursued by three figures.  

One of them stopped. It carefully aimed its warbow.

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