Chapter 3

Losing the Party

 

 

The path zigzagged up the steep mountainside, climbing high through the dense coniferous forest toward Jade Mountain’s snowpack. The towering trees blocked most of the midday sun and what little light made it through took on a greenish hue as it filtered through the thick canopy of needles. Up ahead, the trees parted and blue sky appeared.

The ranger ran toward the light, wanting to escape the gloomy green twilight, but most of all needing to see what she’d come to see and get back to the party she’d left unguarded. Something scampered through the thick carpet of pine needles off to her right, and she spun to meet the sound, bringing her charged crossbow up in the same motion. A small deer darted between the trees and raced down the hill. Lowering the crossbow, she scanned the area, making sure the deer hadn’t been spooked by something other than her.

Many creatures called the primal forest home. Most were animals, and other than the occasional hungry bear, were harmless. The trees did conceal dangers, though. Boarmen and Wargarian raiding parties prowled the forest paths, always on the lookout for defenseless travelers to ambush and slaughter. The ranger was anything but defenseless, as hundreds of Boarmen and Wargarians had learned over the years, but fending off raiders would delay her, and every minute the party was without her put them at risk.

She was the party’s guide and leader. The other four members included two would-be fighting men, a useless cleric and an even more useless dwarf, all know-nothing càiniǎo, as vulnerable as infants. After agreeing on terms, they had set out from Staghead Gate four treks ago.

As was their agreement, she had led them on a training expedition, which included a few small experience-building skirmishes and fabrication opportunities. She had taught them how to navigate, helped them develop their natural skills, taught them how to spot and appraise adversaries, and showed them how to use their weapons. She’d also taught them how to bury and reclaim their Shēngmìnglì; not that that was something she encouraged. They had gotten their coin worth, as did all her customers. In just four treks, they were close to being able to range into the wilds between the gates on their own, far sooner than if they had stumbled around by themselves, as did most cheap càiniǎo. All that remained was to get them through the Jade Gate.

The path led to a rock outcropping that jutted from the western face of Jade Mountain like the prow of some enormous ship. The ranger walked to the edge and gazed out upon the valley several thousand feet below. The great pine forest covering the mountain gave way to an even greater forest of giant oak, hickory, and chestnut trees that stretched across the valley like a vast emerald sea until it broke against the distant snow-covered peaks of the White Mountains.

About a mile beyond where the pine trees surrendered to the hardwoods, the Jade River cut a north–south line through the forest. The rushing water formed a border separating the wild hill country from the relative safety of the flat lands. A road ran along the river’s opposite bank until it veered west and cut its way through the trees heading toward the Jade Gate and the end of their expedition. All she had to do was get the party across.

Fording the deep and fast-moving river was possible with ropes. She’d watched Boarmen raiders do it, but she had not led the party here to lose them while attempting such a dangerous crossing. Luckily there was no need to try. Just before the road made its westward turn toward the gate, a stone bridge crossed the rapids. It was a short hike from where the party waited to the bridge, then another easy jog to the gate. At least, that’s what she thought.

She retrieved her spyglass from her pack. Its polished brass interconnecting tubes gleamed in her hand. It was a remarkable instrument, and one of her favorite possessions. A smith on the other side of the world had fab’d it for her years ago. Moved by the beauty of the piece, the ranger had the smith engrave her name, Darshana, on its outer barrel. She touched the script and imagined she felt the etched lettering. Of all the items she carried, only the glass bore her name. It seemed fitting. After all, Darshana was derived from darshan, which meant sight in the ancient language her mother had insisted she learn.

The bridge came into focus. Nothing moved over its narrow span. She aimed the spyglass at the road and followed it west all the way to the gate. It looked deserted as well. Good.

At full magnification, the distant gate’s massive stone arch filled her view. All the gates in the Land looked similar, differing only by the type and coloring of the stone blocks they were constructed from. The Jade Gate was made of the same gray-blue granite that formed the bones of Jade Mountain. Nothing about the gate’s appearance indicated it was anything other than a monument to some vain ruler’s triumph. Although, a traveler with any sense might wonder at its placement in the middle of a remote valley forest far away from the nearest city or town.

Darshana refocused the glass on the bridge and followed the road south until it disappeared into the distance. Beyond the spyglass’s range, she knew it continued for another ten miles until it reached the trading town of Vaux Hall, and the river went on for several hundred miles beyond that before draining into the Southron Sea. The road appeared empty in both directions. Yep. This was going to be an easy day.

She pulled the glass back to the bridge and trained it on the path that led up the mountain’s western face. It was the same path Darshana had followed to the outcropping. The party waited for her about a half-mile below in a small clearing where the path that led down from the Jade Mountain pass met the path to the bridge.

The five of them had spent all morning climbing up to the pass from the east and then descending in route to the bridge. They had fought their way through several Boarmen raiding parties. She had let her charges do most of the fighting, only stepping in to assist when any of them got into trouble. Every engagement was an opportunity to learn techniques and gain experience. They’d thank her for it some day.

Darshana turned the glass toward where the clearing would be hidden by the trees and was alarmed to see a thin line of gray smoke rising into the otherwise flawless blue sky, marking the clearing’s exact location. “What in the seven hells?” she muttered under her breath. “Morons!”

Returning the spyglass to her pack, she raced back down the path. She could think of no reason for them to start a fire and about two thousand for them not to. Every raider, treasure hunter, and predator in the area who saw the smoke would head toward its source, and if they got there before Darshana, she would lose her safe passage bonus. “Damn!”

The clearing was still a quarter mile away when she heard the shouts. The voices were familiar, Darian and Xu, the party’s wannabe fighting men. Neither of them would last long against an experienced attacker. Darian was strong, but he was clumsy and slow with his sword. Xu was fast and better with his sword, but he was weak and would not withstand many hits. She’d almost lost him during their first skirmish not two miles from the Staghead Gate.

CRACK. A loud thunderclap drowned out the shouts. Ava, the cleric, had one attack spell, Lightning, and it sounded like she must have just used it. Darshana frowned. The spell was difficult to control. Cast by an inexperienced cleric like Ava, it made a lot of noise and light, but did little damage to who or what the party was fighting.

Another sharp thunderclap reverberated through the trees, followed by the metallic ringing of swords striking swords and then a long, high-pitched scream that could have come from Xu or Ava. Then silence. Darshana crept to the clearing’s edge and almost gasped.

Xu and Ava’s lifeless bodies lay on the ground near a small, smoldering campfire that still emitted the thin wisp of gray smoke that must have attracted their killer. A few paces from them, Darian stood holding his long, heavy sword. Its tip was pointed at the chest of the largest warrior Darshana had ever seen. Darian was tall—over six-three—but the man staring down at him, if it was indeed a man, was at least a foot taller.

The warrior was formidable. He—or it—had gray, almost blue, skin. Its massive chest and muscled abdomen were bare except for a heavy leather mantel that concealed half its brawny chest and covered its shoulders. Spiked armor plates fastened to the mantel protected the warrior’s neck and shoulders from a downward blow, although it was difficult to imagine any foe tall enough to deliver such a strike. A chain or cord encircled its neck, and there appeared to be objects dangling from it. They looked like ornaments, but she couldn’t make out their shapes or colors.

What appeared to be a heavy steel helmet covered its head. Long, black hair, bound at several points by leather cord, flowed from under it. The helmet’s brim cast a shadow, hiding the details of the warrior’s face, and a metal strip descended from the helmet’s reinforced brow, protecting the warrior’s nose and further obscuring its features. The whites of the beast’s eyes glowed within hidden sockets.

Its mouth was bent into a cruel smile, revealing fanged teeth that, like its eyes, seemed to glow against the black of its braided beard. It was a monster, and as she leveled her crossbow on its exposed chest, Darshana sensed it was too strong for her. If she got too close, she had little doubt it would kill her. The question was, would the bolt from her crossbow take it down or disable it long enough for her and Darian to escape?

She was about to squeeze the trigger and find out, when, moving faster than should have been possible for something that large, the warrior spun while drawing a longsword from a sheath on its back and cut Darian’s head clean off. The head fell to the ground like a rock, followed a second later by Darian’s body. The warrior wiped the blood from his sword and returned it to the sheath on his back.

Darshana holstered her crossbow. So much for the bonus. Keeping her eyes on the warrior who was busy picking through the party’s few belongings, she eased away from the clearing. She turned to make for the bridge and spotted Falin peering out from behind a tree. The dwarf’s reddish-brown cloak blended in well with the tree’s trunk. He would have been invisible had it not been for his yellow beard. The dwarf was staring at the warrior and did not appear to see her.

Darshana crept toward him. Her feet found the forest floor without snapping a twig or rustling the mat of decaying pine straw. The dwarf only knew she was there when she wrapped her arm around his neck and clasped her hand across his mouth. She pulled him to the ground behind the trunk, out of the warrior’s line of sight.

Falin fought her for a moment until he looked up and his blue eyes widened in recognition. He calmed, and Darshana mouthed the word “quiet.”

She removed her hand from his mouth, and he blurted, “Where?”

Clasping his mouth again, firmer this time, she whispered, “Quiet,” and fixed him with a stern stare.

He nodded.

Darshana unclasped his mouth, and in a low whisper, the dwarf asked, “Where have you been?”

“Spotting the road.”

She unwrapped her arm from his throat, and they both looked around the trunk at the grisly scene below.

“Get your shovel out,” she said.

“Why?”

“You need to bury your Shēngmìnglì.”

He corrected her pronunciation. “Shun-ming-lee. I want to make it to the gate.”

“No way to do that now.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the all-powerful ranger? Go down there and kill that thing. That’s what we paid you for, isn’t it?”

Darshana ignored him and studied the large gray form bent over Ava’s and Xu’s bodies.

“What is it anyway?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Looks like some kind of mixed breed. Maybe part man and part—” she thought for a moment “troll?”

“Troll?” the dwarf scoffed. “I thought they only came out at night.”

“Not this one.”

“What’s it doing?”

Darshana took out her spyglass and trained it on the warrior.

“Cutting off Ava’s ears.”

“That’s awful. Why would it do that?”

She focused the glass on the cord around the warrior’s neck. The objects dangling from it that she’d thought were ornaments were in fact ears, and there were dozens of them.

“Looks like he keeps them for trophies.”

“Is that even possible?”

Darshana shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Something moved behind the gray warrior, and she focused the glass on a giant black stallion with glowing red eyes and fiery red nostrils that looked as if they might actually spout flames. “Big man, big horse,” she uttered, not meaning the comment for the dwarf.

“What do you see?” the dwarf asked through excited breaths.

“It’s got a horse. A big one. Looks very fast and quite terrifying.”

Darshana re-aimed the glass at the warrior. It tucked Ava’s ears into a pouch attached to the wide belt wrapped around its waist. It paused like it was thinking or maybe sensing, then it looked straight at her and grinned. Uh-oh. She ducked behind the tree, knowing it was too late. Stuffing the glass back in her pack, she turned to the dwarf. “Listen to me. Unless you want this all to have been a waste, you have to bury your Shēngmìnglì now.”

Darshana started for the path.

“Wait. What about me?”

“Get digging.”

“How will you outrun the horse?”

“I won’t have to. That man-troll will be too busy cutting your ears off to catch me,” she said as she bolted for the bridge path.