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An Unsung Death in Geoff Part 4 |
Posted by: JasonZavoda
on Saturday, March 04, 2006 - 09:26 PM
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Needs Introduction
Posted - Dec 31 2004 : 5:39:12 PM
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Part XXXII
"At least we have the morning sun at our back." Ragnar said.
They'd ridden through the dark of night and pressed on though day had broken across the land. The night's wet storm had passed before the rising of the sun, already the muddy track was drying out. Sometime during the night their trail had taken them north and now they rode with a forest at their right.
"Yes, better than in our eyes." Emiel agreed.
"I would rather be riding into the sun." Ted spoke up. "I would rather be leaving this land. I'd like to ride east and never stop."
"Thaddeus..." Emiel began to say, and turned his head to face the trailing man.
A whistling sound interrupted him, his horse reared and Ragnar saw that from its side a black-fletched arrow had appeared.
From the edge of the wood on their right a pack of wolfriders disengaged. Behind them a band of orcs appeared, then first one then another brutish ogre. Nearer at hand a score of goblin archers stood rising from the field of weeds and brush upon their left. They loosed another volley, ragged but close.
Ted sprouted three wooden shafts, one pierced his neck two others in his back. His horse took the greater wounds, it ran streaming blood down its flank and charged the goblins on their wolves. An ogre struck it down using a massive wooden club and Ted fell among the orcish band. Ragnar watched with helpless rage as they circled the fallen man, swords and axes flashing in the sun.
Emiel rode through the groups of archers, trampling them under hoof and spearing them with his sword. They ran and for a brief moment Emiel hunted them and sent them running, but the wolf-mounted goblins caught him from behind.
An axe was no rider's toy, Ragnar reined in his horse and swung a leg free, but as he did his horse began to fall. He yelled and tried to jump away but his foot was caught, he'd slipped, his ankle turned and twisted in the stirrup and then his lifeless horse came crashing down. He sank into the muddy road, it saved his leg, but he could not pull it free.
Emiel's horse stamped at the wolves which harried at its legs. A hoof lashed out and crushed a canine skull and sent its goblin rider spinning off like a tumbling circus clown. Eight wolves remained, their riders cut and stabbed at the horse's belly. It bled from a dozen shallow wounds, and mad with fear it bucked and pulled the reins from Emiel's grasp. He jumped away and rolled, the horse ran off, the pack of wolves smelled blood and fear and followed in pursuit. Emiel could hear the goblin riders curse and saw them strain to turn their hairy mounts to no avail.
The band of orcs, their swords dripping red with Ted's lifeblood, ran ahead of the ogre pair. They passed around Ragnar, thinking him dead or stunned and charged Emiel, screaming, with swords upraised.
"Sunne! Kakar-lux!" Emiel shouted pointing his golden blade at the charging band. A blinding flash pulsed out and the orcs' cries changed to screams of fear.
**
Ragnar had not been idle, though as the orcs passed he did hold still his axe at hand ready to make some last hopeless strike. As they went by he sat up again and used a knife kept at his belt to cut the saddle strap. With the extra slack he pulled his foot from beneath the dead horse's weighty side and cut his ankle free.
"What's this?" a rocky voice declared. Above him standing just beyond the horse's body was a bull-necked ogre. It turned and called to another of its kind, bull-necked as well and helmed with a rough-beaten iron pot.
"Another bag of flesh for us to pound into a pulp." its partner laughed. One walked around the left the other to the right. Ragnar scrabbled in the muddy track then pulled himself to his feet, his dagger in his left hand and his axe hanging from his right. He blinked, a wave of red flashed by his closed eyes.
One ogre screamed while the other charged straight for Ragnar, his wooden club pulled back to strike the northman down.
**
Emiel glowed softly with a golden light, he ran and killed, his sword controlled his hand. The helpless orcs had no chance, they could not see, they fell with mortal wounds, a swordthrust through the heart, a head lopped off, no fight, just executions.
**
Ragnar ducked beneath the wooden club and in return he stabbed and drove the topspike of his axe through a leather-armored chest and deep into a lung. The ogre cursed and pulled away, a bloody bubble popped atop the wound then frothed with a pale-red foam. Ragnar struck again but cut away only a forearm guard of chain and hide. The ogre buffeted him with a backhand blow that grazed his chin, the wood passed just beneath and barely touched but it knocked him from his feet. He landed hard, the knife dropped from his hand. He grabbed the axe in a double fist and swung out ankle high. It struck hard into a thick boot, then cut into skin beneath, the ogre hopped away, not crippled but a painful wound.
**
A score of orcs had charged Emiel, half now lay slain beneath his blade, but the blinding flash had worn away. As Emiel struck an orc moved aside, the sword cut flesh and scored a shoulder-bone but did not kill. It took a second slash to fell the orc and then nine angry swords faced his single golden blade.
**
The ogre bled and Ragnar did not, it pleased him mightily. He laughed as it limped on a wounded leg, then turned his back and ran. The ogre roared behind him.
Its partner stood, its club beneath an arm, both hands rubbed at smarting eyes, it did not see Ragnar's approach. He struck it with the full strength of his arms and shoulders. The curved edge cut through a thick hide vest and deep into its vitals. The ogre woofed, he'd struck at solar plexus and knocked out its wind as well as causing a deadly wound. It doubled up and sucked in air, the club fell from its arms as it wrapped itself in pain. Ragnar turned to face the
other of the two.
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Country: | Posts: 612
jasonzavoda
Moderator
Posted - Jan 02 2005 : 6:10:36 PM
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XXXIII
Emiel felt the sword go in sliding past ribs and scraping on a shoulder blade. It mattered not, the thrust brought the orc close, he grabbed it by its throat and squeezed, a wild surge of power ran through him. His claws cut veins and arteries. The orc fell back and fountained blood, then collapsed, his blade stuck out unnoticed from Emiel's chest.
Seven orcs remained, but wary now, they spread out and formed a circle around Emiel. He closed and felt a blade cut him from behind, it opened him from neck to waist, but did not slow him down. His golden blade took another life and only six orcs now stood.
**
Axe-blade chopped but was stopped by wooden club. It stuck for a moment and the ogre threw Ragnar aside like a child's ragged doll.
He was soaked with mud, but still unhurt. Ragnar laughed as he regained his feet. The ogre bellowed and ran stiff-legged toward him. The road was slick, Ragnar used it to his advantage. He let the ogre stumble on then jumped aside and slashed it from behind. It swung at him, a desperate lunge, it's balance lost, the blow helped to send it headlong face down across the muddy road. It pushed itself up on hands and knees but turned as Ragnar charged.
Its club lashed out and caught him in the side, those ribs again he thought, but his axe came down and took the ogre's arm. The limb gave a wet thunk as it struck the muddy road.
**
A rush of bodies buried Emiel, four desperate forms, their numbers thinned. This man-thing just would not die. His sword impaled one but was torn away, he fell upon his back, the golden glow disappeared. A sword came down, he raised an arm to block it, and felt a sudden loss, the blade had cut his arm off at the elbow. Three pig-like faces peered at him, he smiled up at them, a toothy grin. With one good hand Emiel reached out and sank sharp claws into a hairy calf, it howled in pain. He pulled the orc from its feet and in a single twisting leap sprang up. He sank his teeth into an orcish throat, then let the body drop. A single standing orc looked on in shock, then turned to run away.
**
The ogre rose and reached down for the wooden club, in its haste it found it held its severed arm instead. It blanched and tossed the limb away and as it reached again, Ragnar struck. He tried to strike a sideways blow but still notched his blade on the ogre's iron helm. He cracked the monster's skull and the ogre dropped like a slaughtered cow, lifeless in a heap.
**
The orc could not escape, it turned and fought, its sword slashed into Emiel's side, one more awful wound that he ignored. He killed it with tooth and claw, but as he did a shadow crept up over him. With a blood-stained mouth he looked up and as he did a wooden club smashed down, his shoulder broke and it left him lying flat. The ogre bled upon him, a great unstoppable flow, but with what strength that still remained, it used to strike and strike again.
**
A quiet had fallen upon the road. Ragnar heard only his own heart pounding and a dull thud from somewhere behind. Across the road in the weedy field the last ogre stood and clubbed the ground. He almost laughed, had it gone mad, he thought, then wildly he looked around. No other figure stood. "Emiel!" Ragnar screamed with a raw hoarse voice.
The ogre heard the sound and stopped its bloody work. "Ah, human!" it yelled. "Come see your friend, a nice pudding he is now!" it laughed, and shook with pain, and coughed. A stream of blood poured from its lips.
Ragnar said not a word, he boiled inside and a scarlet curtain dropped before his eyes, berserk, he fell into the lost god's hands.
* *
When the red veil lifted he found himself without a scratch, but soaked in gore and drying mud. The ogre was in pieces.
Ragnar gathered what remained of his two friends. He wrapped Emiel in the wizard's cloak and carried him beyond the road and into the woods. He carried Ted as well and laid him beside his friend, then made a cairn, first of stone, but he could not find enough, so instead he collected the weapons of the dead. He buried them both beneath a layer of swords, armor and shields, then covered it all in leaves and oerth. He left an ogre skull at their feet and placed a goblin as a pillow beneath their heads, they would rest forever upon their fallen foes.
"I have failed you my friends." Ragnar declared above their graves. "But I swear to you, it will be my death or this giant's. I will see you in Vatun's hall if I am worthy, you must already sit among his valiant company."
* *
Ragnar Hellson drew the honing stone slowly across the edge of his axeblade. He thought of those who had escaped the fight which had taken his friends lives and the giant he still had to kill.
"May their bones pierce its hairy feet" he said to himself. He paused then looked at his blade, then stood and hefted the axe letting it swing once or twice, catching the light from the late morning sun. He hrumphed in satisfaction.
Turning away from the bright sunlight he let his gaze wander. "No one will sing of this battle," he mused aloud. It wouldn't matter, these southern lands, most deaths went unsung.
The End For Now.
(To Be Continued in Hreidmar's Bane sometime this spring)
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