Rain of Thorns #2 – Seeing Stars

Click here for Chapter 1

If it were any other dwarf, foot falls snapping twigs and the sound of breathing would be heard; but Torval had learned to be dead silent. The only sounds in the forest this foredawn were that of an occasional conversation between owls, and the fluttering and squeaks from bats as they were making their way back to the nest.

Torval was up before the sun. Normally he would wait until first light but he had wanted to retrieve the pieces of Eva’s broken sword before the sisters woke.

As usual though, his belly was in full command of the situation. Breakfast would be in order before he continued his trek back to the location where yesterday’s skirmish took place. Some roasted squirrel sounded about right but they were still asleep high above in the pine boughs, and he had not the time to prepare the meat. Torval dreamed of a juicier, hot meal as he reached into his pack to get some of the salted pork he kept there.

He leaned against a tree as he ate, wondering what was so important about Eva’s sword. He had only gotten a few quick glances at it, but as far as he could tell aside from being what appeared to be a finely forged piece of steel, there was nothing extraordinary about it. The hilt featured no fancy guard or pommel, and the leather wrap around the handle was well used and possibly even torn. The broken blade was like most any other hand-and-a-half sword, sharp along both edges and plain, save for the fuller that ran down the center which appeared to have a unique shine to it which the outside edges lacked.

Torval finished up his meal with one last swig from his waterskin, hoisted his pack and set off towards the spot on the road underneath the bluff that the orcs had used as cover in preparation for their ambush. He stayed in the trees and brush and kept the road to his left side as he followed it north. Normally he would travel on the road but it had proven to be an unsafe place as of late and he dared not travel in the open, especially in the dark.

The dark — it didn’t bother Torval, or at least not usually — but all of the sudden he did not feel at ease at all. The creatures of the night in these parts were mostly harmless if you respected them, and Torval knew as much. The wild dogs in the area usually kept to themselves, even if in a large pack. Sometimes, if you went deep into the forest, and usually on the other side of the river; you’d encounter an early morning bear looking for an easy meal. They generally made a lot of noise and were easy to steer clear of.

He couldn’t help but to shudder at the eerie feeling his was getting and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that something or someone was watching him. He moved forward and from time to time thought he caught a glimpse of eyes shining in the darkness ahead, but the feeling of being followed was ever present.

No longer able to fight the urge, Torval reached back for his bow and an arrow. He paused for a second as he nocked the feathered end of the shaft to to the bowstring and held it low and ready as he then proceeded forward into the gloom. Off in the east, if the tree cover wasn’t so thick, he would have seen that the horizon was starting to illuminate, but between the trees and the dense fog in the air that Torval had not yet noticed was present, he could not see very far ahead at all.

A short time later Torval had reached the spot in the road where Eva and Ella had been ambushed and he knelt down and found the hilt and blade of the broken sword right where it was left. He picked up the pieces and turned towards the way he came, and there they were, ten paces in front him.

The eyes he had seen earlier belonged to the face of the largest wolf Torval had ever seen. At least he thought it was a wolf. It’s eyes harbored hate and anger. It’s snarl exposed teeth near as long as Torval’s favorite hunting knife. It was likely twice as tall at the shoulder than the regular grey wolf commonly found in these parts. Slobber and who knows what else dripped from its lashing tongue, while a small but foul looking orc sat perched upon its back.

In the blink of an eye Torval had pulled the bowstring back and loosed, the arrow hitting the beast square in the face and dropping it in its tracks. He noticed the orc sliding off its mount and drawing a crude curved blade in a smooth motion as a large paw came from the side striking Torval to the ground with unbelievable power.

Torval’s view, while still black from the lack of light was now getting even darker, with pin points of light in his vision. He tried to jump back to his feet but was knocked to the ground again with another hard blow to his ribs.

He fought to remain conscious as he patted at the ground looking for the bow that was just moments before in his hands. The once mounted orc used the opening to slash at him, but he rolled out of the way just in time, kicking at the small orc and pushing him back. Torval sat up and reached for an arrow but came up with one that had been snapped in half when he got knocked down. Once more he reached back and found a good arrow and, at point blank range; delivered it to the orc with as much speed as possible.

Torval drew his wood ax and peered into the mist. It was a little easier to see now, but he had lost sight of the second attacking wolf. He circled, looking, waiting for the next attack. He then heard the cry of an orc and turned to meet it. He saw a man tackle an orc off of its mount just before the large wolf plowed into him. This time unconsciousness took him.