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Yutzee
It had been a disappointing day. Even now, the red, lambent sun was coasting its way out of sight behind the western mountains. As the sun’s radiance disappeared, the searching party quickly scrambled about for a place to spend the night. The leader of this group, Captain Javar, an African from the southern provinces, wasn’t quite sure what to think. All day they had run northwards through the plains, splitting into smaller groups, and searching rural villages that might contain the missing king. Yet, in spite of the fact that they had covered at least 25 miles already, no sign of the king had been seen throughout the whole day. His only hope was that one of the many other search parties perhaps had already found the king, and that soon he would be home and all would be at peace again. But still, the captain was doubtful about the whole business. After all, he had been told that the man had disappeared with the king suddenly, accompanied by a blinding flash. So technically, the king could be anywhere in the world. Captain Javar smiled as he thought about the impossibility of even having the first clue about where to start in his search, which made him feel better, in a way.
The group had found, and was now descending into a large depression in the land. This valley was heavily forested, but only because of a sizeable stream that ran through the area. The place was like an oasis in the middle of a desert, and the men eagerly made their way down the slope to make camp in a large clearing near the river. As the captain reached the floor of the valley, he began to strip himself of all his weapons, and prepare them for cleaning. The captain’s men by now were setting up the tents that they were to spend the night in. The captain, wanting rest, but not sleep, found a large rock that was set directly against a large tree and mounted it. The perch was comfortable and it provided a good view of the camp and river. By the time the captain had finished polishing his steel, all the weary men had laid themselves down for the night. The captain frowned. His men should have at least polished their armor. But after all they had had a long day. He decided to let them sleep. In any case, they would be marching another 20 or 30 miles tomorrow, and there were no enemies to fear. The captain however, was restless. After all, the king himself was missing. The captain rested his back against the tree and began to ruminate on the possibilities of where to look next for the kidnapped king.
Captain Javar had been one of the many captains that had been sent out to search for the king. Javar himself had been assigned the northern sector; he had determined to head towards the Woodlands and then onto the Saurian border, to solicit help from the soldiers of Fort Razel. Clearly then, his next path would be to search the villages at the foot of the Western mountains. Depending on Saurian help, he would then send a few horsemen back to the capital to report on his progress; which was at this point, nothing. The captain sighed and rested his head against the tree trunk that was directly behind him. Despite the captain’s worry, his eyelids began to sag as the scene in front of him seemed to lose its focus. The fire that was set up became a ring of warmth, and the torches became long spears of light stretching to the floor, and all the way into the sky.
The captain was wakened quickly from his sleep by a refreshing breeze that was now driving through the valley. He felt as if he had been fighting sleep for only a short while, yet by the shadows and lighting, he knew he must have been dozing for a good two hours. The mentioned light wind was now causing the trees to sway, and the leaves to move with a whispery sound that seemed to strike a mournful note into the captain’s heart. A crescent moon was now shedding its light down into the valley, casting angular outlines which dashed to and fro with the restlessness of the limbs of the surrounding trees. The captain suddenly felt cold. His arms were especially chilly which caused him to immediately rub them vigorously.
It was then that the captain was suddenly struck with a feeling of absolute isolation. A feeling of panic seized him as he imagined all the tents laid out before him containing nothing but air. He felt as though there were things watching him in the darkness around him, and without thinking, he grabbed his sword and sprinted to the nearest tent to see if his men were still there. As he ripped open the entrance and dived into the tent, several groans and soft snores met his ears. Only one man was immediately on his feet, dagger in hand. When the man saw that it was the captain, he saluted and shouted, to the alarm of the captain and all the man’s roommates, “At your orders Sirreee!”
Most of the men quickly stumbled to their feet; however, more than one lay motionless on the ground, emitting peaceful snores.
The captain, somewhat embarrassed at his untimely and awkward arrival, muttered with false gruffness, “At ease.” An uneasy silence followed this order which was quickly interrupted by another clumsy comment. “I have a feeling men.”
The men glanced at each other sleepily, trying to discern to what end the captain was getting to.
“In other words, I want a night watch. I feel slightly uncomfortable in our situation here, and it is in our best interest to make sure that our fellow soldiers are kept safe.”
The men stared blankly at him and then, as if the command was just now sinking in, they began to groggily grope around for their weapons and armor.
The captain quickly left the tent, confused as to why he was so bothered by his surroundings. This valley made him uneasy, with its large leafy trees, and angular shadows, he felt as if the boulders themselves would fall on him and crush him. This feeling puzzled the experienced captain. After resuming his previous position on his rocky perch, he watched as one by one, the soldiers he had just addressed, left their tent and made their way to the edges of the camp. After leaning against his favorite tree for a few uncomfortable minutes imagining that something was directly behind him, he finally decided to get a breath of fresh air. The troubled captain determined that he would take a short hike across the river and up to the plain on the other side of the short valley. Strapping on his steel blade, and taking a short bow, he made his way towards the gushing brook. The water was icy cold, which Javar quickly found out when he slipped on a wet limestone rock. The captain glanced back to see if the guard had heard the noticeable splash, but was both relieved and cross when he saw that the nearest guard had already sunk to the ground, his head on his chest. As the captain turned to continue his way, he glanced back in horror as he beheld what he thought was a black shaft and feathers sticking out of the man’s neck. The captain floundered out of the river, raced to the man, and grabbed his shirt, only to see that the “arrow” was a strap from the man’s leather jerkin, which was loose. The soldier started and reached for his knife when the captain knelt, but put it away when he saw that it was Captain Javar.
The captain slowly knelt next to the man. The guard seemed unsure as to his punishment, but seemed willing to take it, which impressed the captain, who now spoke.
“Son, if I were the enemy, you wouldn’t have woken up. Stay alert.”
This seemed to startle the sleepy soldier who quickly rose to his feet, spear in hand.
The captain clapped an encouraging hand on the heavy-eyed man’s shoulder and walked towards the stream once again.
In no time, the captain had crossed the creek, found a narrow, beaten path and made his way up onto the plain. The captain felt immediately refreshed. The air up here was pleasant and peaceful, and was easily taken into the lungs. The moon seemed to be friendly now, and had risen directly above him and now shone its beautiful rays onto the captain’s face, who decided to just sit and enjoy the beauty until he decided on further action.
How long he sat there he never knew. The captain felt as if he had just gotten comfortable, when a soft vibration shook his happiness into wariness. His immediate reaction was to put his ear to the ground. After a few moments, he glanced across the empty plain. At first he saw nothing, but soon he saw dark figures, approaching the valley behind him with impossible speed. He speedily gathered up his weapons and put his ear to the ground once again. Animals. Was it a stampede? No, the group was too small. From about a mile away, he could only recognize about 50 figures. The king slowly backed up towards the mouth of the valley but still examined the group with great curiosity. Suddenly, without warning, a flash of reflected light bounced out of the running group and met his eye. Metal? Why would these animals… wait a minute. Captain Javar all of a sudden realized that they were running high off the ground, and on two legs. The group was only a few hundred meters away now, and then the captain recognized it, they were all wearing light infantry armor, and had blades at their sides. The captain quickly turned and started to jump down the trail towards camp, with the intention of warning his men. But his goal was never realized. Long shadows had shot past him, causing him to dart into a nearby shrub. As soon as he was safely hidden, he drew out his short bow and put an arrow to the string. How had they crossed that distance so quickly, anyway? The captain crouched and listened for a breath of sound. After casting one furtive look at the camp on the far end of the valley, the captain strained his eyes and ears upward, towards the huge men that now surveyed the valley with their hooded heads.
Each man wore a large grey cape that touched the ground. Each cape had a large, threatening hood, which was drawn over each of their heads so that none of their features could be distinguished. Javar found himself struggling to see what the men looked like, but for some reason, he didn’t want to know. Their bodies were strangely contorted. Their chests were tall and thick, which gave them a terrifying appearance like that of an ape. Their arms were unusually long and hairy. And then Javar saw it. Their legs were bowlegged, like a deer, except much more hairy. Who were these men? Each carried a huge curved scimitar, accompanied by an enormous crossbow strapped onto their backs. Most of them also had a short knife tied to their belts.
One of the men spoke up in a disgusting, raspy voice, “This looks like a good place to spend the night. Set up camp down by the river.”
Just as quickly as he had finished, another man croaked up in a deep, monster-like voice that frightened the hiding captain.
“Sir! I see a pinpoint of light coming through the trees down at the other end of the valley.”
There was a little bit of confusion when the first man tried to get into a position where he could see the light as well, so that he could be convinced. When he had seen the light he then barked out, “Zukar! I want you to tell me what is making that fire. Go!”
Another of the tall men suddenly darted out of the group at unfeasible speed. The captain couldn’t believe his eyes. In the dark, it looked as if the man were traveling faster than a galloping horse. His cape flew behind him high in the air, as if he was being met by a huge hurricane wind. Javar wondered how the man was not dislodging huge amounts of dirt and soil with his breakneck speed while he was scampering down the hill. The captain was so impressed by this that he was almost disappointed when the man skidded to a halt in front of the group, not two minutes later. However, the man’s appearance absolutely disconcerted Javar. During his short sprint, the man’s hood had been blown off his head by the winds that had resisted him. What was revealed underneath was horrifying, to say the least. The captain immediately identified the man’s face as a wolf face, yet it did not exactly resemble a wolf. The man’s eyes were glassy, and his skin was gaunt and grey, as was his long coarse hair, which hung over a large portion of his extremely angular face. The face was bony and muscular, like a dog that is trained to hunt. As the man spoke, his teeth betrayed his animalistic nature. The incisors were long and protruded past the lips, as it does with a dog. The rest of his teeth were razor-sharp and spotlessly white.
“Humans,” the man said with a growl. The first man retorted, “Are they armed?”
“It is a soldier’s camp,” the scout reported.
“How many?”
“Maybe 300.”
The leader of the group seemed to be slightly perturbed by this information. With annoyance in his throaty voice, the first man ordered, “We’ll take them out before we go down for the night. I want archers on the far slope. Sword men, follow me. Archers, I want you to only fire if the encampment is clear of our men, understood? Sword men, spread out into the trees and wait for my command.”
At his order, all the men sprang into action with staggering speed. Within seconds, all of the wolf-men had disappeared noiselessly into the trees and the captain was left alone. Nursing the idea of just hiding, and being a coward, the captain huddled closer to the ground as he tried to peek through the waving branches of the bush before him. He couldn’t leave his men! His duty was to protect them and to lead them! The very thought of abandoning his troops was now absolutely ridiculous. There must be a way to warn his men of the oncoming onslaught!
Barely comprehending his dilemma of trying to outwit wolf-men in a deadly game, the captain snatched his sword and started to scramble down the valley slope with as much silence and dexterity as he could muster.
The captain made his way toward a small outcropping of rock that overlooked the encampment from the wall of the valley. Pebbles and dirt dislodged and started to tumble down the hill as Javar slid to a stop at the top of it. He could see the river 200 meters ahead of him, resulting from a gradual slope that descended from his present position, and just beyond, the encampment.
The captain could not detect any movement among the surrounding trees, or on the far slope, but he had not expected to. If these men were capable of what he had already seen, then they would not display their presence so foolishly. There was no way to warn his men. He was trapped in a situation where there was no solution except death.
In feverish desperation and frustration, the captain drew out an arrow, put it to his short bow, and released it high and far, sending it towards the camp. The projectile was incredibly hard to see, yet somehow, the captain caught sight of it once again, just before it plunged into the river. The captain had fired it perfectly, however he needed a longbow to get that kind of range.
As he was looking after his lost arrow, he thought he saw a dark shape dart away from the knot of trees that was directly next to the river. The captain, now regretting his rash action, quickly averted his gaze toward that area, and tried to identify any stirring in the brush. As he did so, he dismissed the movement as his imagination. He would not let his fear blind him.
Then the captain noticed it. There were no trees all the way down to the river from where he was. He had an idea. He would roll a large boulder all the way down the slope and into the river. This would create a large splash that would hopefully warn the guards of some kind of danger.
The captain ran around the ledge where he was standing and finally found a large rock, the size of a horse-cart, very near the edge. Heaving and groaning, the captain struggled to budge the sizeable stone. After a short while of pushing, the captain noticed a small mound of dirt that was in front of the stone, which made it nearly impossible to move the rock. The captain, willing to do anything at this point, got down on his stomach and started to scrape the dirt off the ledge, making a path for the stone.
It was then that he once again saw a dark shape flash through the brush at alarming speed, this time, only 100 feet down the slope. The captain was now very concerned about the motion. He was sure that he had seen a grey object duck out of sight just as he had looked. Slowly standing up, the captain made his was to the backside of the rock. Keeping his eyes glued to the spot where the figure had disappeared, Javar began to push cautiously against the rock.
As he began to do so, the figure popped up out of the brush. It was a wolf-man. In his hands he held an iron crossbow. Before the captain could react, a bolt flew past his right ear and started to bounce crazily off the surrounding boulders. Jumping wildly, the captain pushed hard against the stone and was almost surprised when it slowly gave, and started to careen down the hill.
With no protection, the captain turned to find shelter when he was suddenly hit in the back by an astonishingly accurate shot. The wolf-man had reloaded with impossible speed; this time, the bolt had found its mark, knocking Javar to the ground.
Stunned, but pleased that the warning was on its way, the captain laid there, gasping for breath and tentatively feeling around the wound. For an odd reason, Javar felt as if the arrow was only space being filled in his back. He had always thought that a wound like this would make one dizzy, disoriented, and dim-witted. Yet the pain by some means seemed to give Javar the determination to succeed, and the strength to endure.
The captain had the sensation that the wolf-man would come for him, to see if he had indeed felled his prey. With this belief, the captain pulled himself over to the rock wall, propped himself up next to it, and waited, arrow on the string.
In a moment, without warning, the huge figure of a wolf leapt into view, scimitar raised, flashing in the moonlight. The wolf-man never landed on the ledge, at least on his feet. In the twinkling of an eye, the captain had released the arrow, and watched as the wolf-man twisted in mid-air, and fell into a crumpled heap only a few feet away from him.
In a bewildered daze, the captain lifted himself to his feet. Approaching the dead man with some reticence, Javar was overcome with an intense curiosity to see the man’s face. Even more intriguing, was that the figure of the corpse had shrunken alarmingly to a normal man’s size. Against his better judgment, the captain rolled the body over and was frankly surprised at what he saw.
The man, in every facet of his being, was an average individual. Nothing about him was wolfish in any way. The first feeling that Javar felt was dismay over his kill. What if this man had been under some sort of bondage, or even worse, the whole wolf concept was only his imagination?
This was foolishness. Everything he had seen that night perfectly correlated with his current supposition: that as of yet, he was wholly sane in having the belief that he had come across a most foul race of wolf-men. The captain, now convinced of his own innocence, started to strip all useful weapons off the body for later use.
The crossbow especially intrigued the captain. Unlike the usual, wooden, single shot crossbows of the day, this one was cast iron, and had two firing chambers that were each accompanied by a small store of bolts. The arrows themselves were very short, which allowed for the surprising compactness of the crossbow’s complexity. The captain, who was very interested in the mechanics of this machine, heaved it to chest level and pulled the trigger twice in succession. The results astonished him to an extraordinary level of excitement. The trigger was apparently attached to both chambers, and it would alternate between every shot. And now Javar realized what the store of bolts was used for. Every time a shot was fired in one chamber, a small hooked mechanism would pull another arrow into the chamber, while the other chamber fired its bolt. The whole idea was brilliant!
However his joy was short-lived. The wound in his back suddenly attacked him with extreme pain, and his whole body seemed to shudder and cringe at the sensation. Then he remembered. What was going on down by the river? All pain vanished as he made his way towards the edge of the ledge to survey the scene.
A full-fledged battle was taking place at the encampment. All of his men were bunched into a tight, small area in the middle of the clearing. Most of the tents had been knocked over by the combat, though his men far outnumbered the attacking wolf-men, the lateness of the hour and the unsuspected arrival of enemies were taking a heavy toll on his troops. Already, at least 100 had fallen in battle. His men were drawn into a double layered line, back to back, and were repelling attacking grey-clad wolf-men. Although no casualties could be seen on the side of the wolf-men, it was obvious that this thick knot of soldiers was a huge annoyance to them.
The captain, now completely informed on the conflict, grabbed his weapons, including the crossbow, and started to sprint down the hill. While he was running he felt the pain in his back suddenly climax. Javar’s legs, now unable to keep up with his increasing speed, flopped behind him as his aching body crashed into the ground and started to roll. He kept turning over until he lost all his momentum and came to a slow, precarious stop. The arrow in his back had snapped somewhere on his journey down, and the pain now seemed to radiate through his whole body, causing him to grimace and lift himself to his knees, to inspect the damage. He had to keep going. If he stopped now, he would never get back up. With a sudden jerk of pain, Javar wrenched himself off the ground and stood on his feet. Picking up his scattered weapons once again, he began to descend the slope once more. When he had made his way to about halfway down the slope, he glanced up at the struggle only to see that all the wolf-men had beat a hasty retreat. What could this mean? Surely they hadn’t given up?
Running close to the ground, with dogged determination, the captain suddenly noticed a dark line descending the far slope with impossible speed. The archers were coming in. No. That’s when Javar realized the wolf-men’s plan. All his men were about to be slain by the very double-action crossbow he was now holding. Even as he proceeded to cross the river he saw the first volley, quickly followed by a second and third, wipe out a good portion of his men. With utter desperation, the captain ran toward the nearest trees that he knew must contain the wolf-men, and started to fire aimlessly into the shadows.
The next few moments, the captain was not completely in control of his body. It seemed as if whenever a wolf-man turned towards him, in complete bewilderment, his first response was to aim and fire, look, aim, fire, and suddenly he himself was dodging bolts, yet none hit him. Somehow Javar was ducking, sidestepping, and firing at the same time, usually hitting his targets, which fell to the valley floor with a look of total perplexity on their wolfish faces. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a fierce inferno of flying arrows, all of which were aimed at him, darting through the air, out of the shadows. He was instantly identifying the origin of these shots, and taking shots himself, most of which were successful. He was flying from tree to tree, dropping out of sight, and popping up once again, to his enemies’ consternation, and releasing well-aimed barbs of death. Already he was almost alone, except for the few stray arrows that were striking all around him.
As wolf-men all around the clearing began to realize what was going on, they stopped firing at the helpless men, and began to circle around to investigate the confusion.
The captain by now had crouched behind a tree, due to the fact that he had run out of ammo, and was furiously trying to untangle his sword from his harness. As he once again began to hear the whizzing of soaring arrows, he noticed that the few remaining men of his had rallied and were now conducting a charge toward the very area where he was seeking refuge. Grasping his sword with excitement, the captain decided that if he ever got out of this alive, he needed to get one of those rapid-fire crossbows.
His men were by now attacking the very archers that were firing at him. Taking this as an opportunity to get safely away from his tree, he raised his sword towards the sky and raced towards the line of archers yelling with enthusiastic thrill in his voice, “Onwards men! Rally to me! Take them head on!”
The captain by now had almost reached his men when he realized that the last of his brave warriors had just been mowed down. In a blind frenzy the maddened captain cried, “I will have vengeance!” However, before he even reached the solid line of grey-clad archers, without looking down, he knew that it was all over, and that he would never fulfill his vow. Through the screen of oncoming barb-tipped shafts, he could see the concentrated hatred in the wolf-men’s eyes. As he began to lose locomotor control, he stumbled to the ground. As he did so, he felt all the shafts that were sprouting out of him snap and crackle as the weight of his throbbing body broke them like twigs. His sword flew out of his stinging hand and landed far away from his now mangled body. He could feel the weight and the thud of the arrows as the wolf-men advanced on his mortally wounded body. His now bloodshot eyes looked hopelessly after his lost sword. He was sure that he would never use it again.
The group had found, and was now descending into a large depression in the land. This valley was heavily forested, but only because of a sizeable stream that ran through the area. The place was like an oasis in the middle of a desert, and the men eagerly made their way down the slope to make camp in a large clearing near the river. As the captain reached the floor of the valley, he began to strip himself of all his weapons, and prepare them for cleaning. The captain’s men by now were setting up the tents that they were to spend the night in. The captain, wanting rest, but not sleep, found a large rock that was set directly against a large tree and mounted it. The perch was comfortable and it provided a good view of the camp and river. By the time the captain had finished polishing his steel, all the weary men had laid themselves down for the night. The captain frowned. His men should have at least polished their armor. But after all they had had a long day. He decided to let them sleep. In any case, they would be marching another 20 or 30 miles tomorrow, and there were no enemies to fear. The captain however, was restless. After all, the king himself was missing. The captain rested his back against the tree and began to ruminate on the possibilities of where to look next for the kidnapped king.
Captain Javar had been one of the many captains that had been sent out to search for the king. Javar himself had been assigned the northern sector; he had determined to head towards the Woodlands and then onto the Saurian border, to solicit help from the soldiers of Fort Razel. Clearly then, his next path would be to search the villages at the foot of the Western mountains. Depending on Saurian help, he would then send a few horsemen back to the capital to report on his progress; which was at this point, nothing. The captain sighed and rested his head against the tree trunk that was directly behind him. Despite the captain’s worry, his eyelids began to sag as the scene in front of him seemed to lose its focus. The fire that was set up became a ring of warmth, and the torches became long spears of light stretching to the floor, and all the way into the sky.
The captain was wakened quickly from his sleep by a refreshing breeze that was now driving through the valley. He felt as if he had been fighting sleep for only a short while, yet by the shadows and lighting, he knew he must have been dozing for a good two hours. The mentioned light wind was now causing the trees to sway, and the leaves to move with a whispery sound that seemed to strike a mournful note into the captain’s heart. A crescent moon was now shedding its light down into the valley, casting angular outlines which dashed to and fro with the restlessness of the limbs of the surrounding trees. The captain suddenly felt cold. His arms were especially chilly which caused him to immediately rub them vigorously.
It was then that the captain was suddenly struck with a feeling of absolute isolation. A feeling of panic seized him as he imagined all the tents laid out before him containing nothing but air. He felt as though there were things watching him in the darkness around him, and without thinking, he grabbed his sword and sprinted to the nearest tent to see if his men were still there. As he ripped open the entrance and dived into the tent, several groans and soft snores met his ears. Only one man was immediately on his feet, dagger in hand. When the man saw that it was the captain, he saluted and shouted, to the alarm of the captain and all the man’s roommates, “At your orders Sirreee!”
Most of the men quickly stumbled to their feet; however, more than one lay motionless on the ground, emitting peaceful snores.
The captain, somewhat embarrassed at his untimely and awkward arrival, muttered with false gruffness, “At ease.” An uneasy silence followed this order which was quickly interrupted by another clumsy comment. “I have a feeling men.”
The men glanced at each other sleepily, trying to discern to what end the captain was getting to.
“In other words, I want a night watch. I feel slightly uncomfortable in our situation here, and it is in our best interest to make sure that our fellow soldiers are kept safe.”
The men stared blankly at him and then, as if the command was just now sinking in, they began to groggily grope around for their weapons and armor.
The captain quickly left the tent, confused as to why he was so bothered by his surroundings. This valley made him uneasy, with its large leafy trees, and angular shadows, he felt as if the boulders themselves would fall on him and crush him. This feeling puzzled the experienced captain. After resuming his previous position on his rocky perch, he watched as one by one, the soldiers he had just addressed, left their tent and made their way to the edges of the camp. After leaning against his favorite tree for a few uncomfortable minutes imagining that something was directly behind him, he finally decided to get a breath of fresh air. The troubled captain determined that he would take a short hike across the river and up to the plain on the other side of the short valley. Strapping on his steel blade, and taking a short bow, he made his way towards the gushing brook. The water was icy cold, which Javar quickly found out when he slipped on a wet limestone rock. The captain glanced back to see if the guard had heard the noticeable splash, but was both relieved and cross when he saw that the nearest guard had already sunk to the ground, his head on his chest. As the captain turned to continue his way, he glanced back in horror as he beheld what he thought was a black shaft and feathers sticking out of the man’s neck. The captain floundered out of the river, raced to the man, and grabbed his shirt, only to see that the “arrow” was a strap from the man’s leather jerkin, which was loose. The soldier started and reached for his knife when the captain knelt, but put it away when he saw that it was Captain Javar.
The captain slowly knelt next to the man. The guard seemed unsure as to his punishment, but seemed willing to take it, which impressed the captain, who now spoke.
“Son, if I were the enemy, you wouldn’t have woken up. Stay alert.”
This seemed to startle the sleepy soldier who quickly rose to his feet, spear in hand.
The captain clapped an encouraging hand on the heavy-eyed man’s shoulder and walked towards the stream once again.
In no time, the captain had crossed the creek, found a narrow, beaten path and made his way up onto the plain. The captain felt immediately refreshed. The air up here was pleasant and peaceful, and was easily taken into the lungs. The moon seemed to be friendly now, and had risen directly above him and now shone its beautiful rays onto the captain’s face, who decided to just sit and enjoy the beauty until he decided on further action.
How long he sat there he never knew. The captain felt as if he had just gotten comfortable, when a soft vibration shook his happiness into wariness. His immediate reaction was to put his ear to the ground. After a few moments, he glanced across the empty plain. At first he saw nothing, but soon he saw dark figures, approaching the valley behind him with impossible speed. He speedily gathered up his weapons and put his ear to the ground once again. Animals. Was it a stampede? No, the group was too small. From about a mile away, he could only recognize about 50 figures. The king slowly backed up towards the mouth of the valley but still examined the group with great curiosity. Suddenly, without warning, a flash of reflected light bounced out of the running group and met his eye. Metal? Why would these animals… wait a minute. Captain Javar all of a sudden realized that they were running high off the ground, and on two legs. The group was only a few hundred meters away now, and then the captain recognized it, they were all wearing light infantry armor, and had blades at their sides. The captain quickly turned and started to jump down the trail towards camp, with the intention of warning his men. But his goal was never realized. Long shadows had shot past him, causing him to dart into a nearby shrub. As soon as he was safely hidden, he drew out his short bow and put an arrow to the string. How had they crossed that distance so quickly, anyway? The captain crouched and listened for a breath of sound. After casting one furtive look at the camp on the far end of the valley, the captain strained his eyes and ears upward, towards the huge men that now surveyed the valley with their hooded heads.
Each man wore a large grey cape that touched the ground. Each cape had a large, threatening hood, which was drawn over each of their heads so that none of their features could be distinguished. Javar found himself struggling to see what the men looked like, but for some reason, he didn’t want to know. Their bodies were strangely contorted. Their chests were tall and thick, which gave them a terrifying appearance like that of an ape. Their arms were unusually long and hairy. And then Javar saw it. Their legs were bowlegged, like a deer, except much more hairy. Who were these men? Each carried a huge curved scimitar, accompanied by an enormous crossbow strapped onto their backs. Most of them also had a short knife tied to their belts.
One of the men spoke up in a disgusting, raspy voice, “This looks like a good place to spend the night. Set up camp down by the river.”
Just as quickly as he had finished, another man croaked up in a deep, monster-like voice that frightened the hiding captain.
“Sir! I see a pinpoint of light coming through the trees down at the other end of the valley.”
There was a little bit of confusion when the first man tried to get into a position where he could see the light as well, so that he could be convinced. When he had seen the light he then barked out, “Zukar! I want you to tell me what is making that fire. Go!”
Another of the tall men suddenly darted out of the group at unfeasible speed. The captain couldn’t believe his eyes. In the dark, it looked as if the man were traveling faster than a galloping horse. His cape flew behind him high in the air, as if he was being met by a huge hurricane wind. Javar wondered how the man was not dislodging huge amounts of dirt and soil with his breakneck speed while he was scampering down the hill. The captain was so impressed by this that he was almost disappointed when the man skidded to a halt in front of the group, not two minutes later. However, the man’s appearance absolutely disconcerted Javar. During his short sprint, the man’s hood had been blown off his head by the winds that had resisted him. What was revealed underneath was horrifying, to say the least. The captain immediately identified the man’s face as a wolf face, yet it did not exactly resemble a wolf. The man’s eyes were glassy, and his skin was gaunt and grey, as was his long coarse hair, which hung over a large portion of his extremely angular face. The face was bony and muscular, like a dog that is trained to hunt. As the man spoke, his teeth betrayed his animalistic nature. The incisors were long and protruded past the lips, as it does with a dog. The rest of his teeth were razor-sharp and spotlessly white.
“Humans,” the man said with a growl. The first man retorted, “Are they armed?”
“It is a soldier’s camp,” the scout reported.
“How many?”
“Maybe 300.”
The leader of the group seemed to be slightly perturbed by this information. With annoyance in his throaty voice, the first man ordered, “We’ll take them out before we go down for the night. I want archers on the far slope. Sword men, follow me. Archers, I want you to only fire if the encampment is clear of our men, understood? Sword men, spread out into the trees and wait for my command.”
At his order, all the men sprang into action with staggering speed. Within seconds, all of the wolf-men had disappeared noiselessly into the trees and the captain was left alone. Nursing the idea of just hiding, and being a coward, the captain huddled closer to the ground as he tried to peek through the waving branches of the bush before him. He couldn’t leave his men! His duty was to protect them and to lead them! The very thought of abandoning his troops was now absolutely ridiculous. There must be a way to warn his men of the oncoming onslaught!
Barely comprehending his dilemma of trying to outwit wolf-men in a deadly game, the captain snatched his sword and started to scramble down the valley slope with as much silence and dexterity as he could muster.
The captain made his way toward a small outcropping of rock that overlooked the encampment from the wall of the valley. Pebbles and dirt dislodged and started to tumble down the hill as Javar slid to a stop at the top of it. He could see the river 200 meters ahead of him, resulting from a gradual slope that descended from his present position, and just beyond, the encampment.
The captain could not detect any movement among the surrounding trees, or on the far slope, but he had not expected to. If these men were capable of what he had already seen, then they would not display their presence so foolishly. There was no way to warn his men. He was trapped in a situation where there was no solution except death.
In feverish desperation and frustration, the captain drew out an arrow, put it to his short bow, and released it high and far, sending it towards the camp. The projectile was incredibly hard to see, yet somehow, the captain caught sight of it once again, just before it plunged into the river. The captain had fired it perfectly, however he needed a longbow to get that kind of range.
As he was looking after his lost arrow, he thought he saw a dark shape dart away from the knot of trees that was directly next to the river. The captain, now regretting his rash action, quickly averted his gaze toward that area, and tried to identify any stirring in the brush. As he did so, he dismissed the movement as his imagination. He would not let his fear blind him.
Then the captain noticed it. There were no trees all the way down to the river from where he was. He had an idea. He would roll a large boulder all the way down the slope and into the river. This would create a large splash that would hopefully warn the guards of some kind of danger.
The captain ran around the ledge where he was standing and finally found a large rock, the size of a horse-cart, very near the edge. Heaving and groaning, the captain struggled to budge the sizeable stone. After a short while of pushing, the captain noticed a small mound of dirt that was in front of the stone, which made it nearly impossible to move the rock. The captain, willing to do anything at this point, got down on his stomach and started to scrape the dirt off the ledge, making a path for the stone.
It was then that he once again saw a dark shape flash through the brush at alarming speed, this time, only 100 feet down the slope. The captain was now very concerned about the motion. He was sure that he had seen a grey object duck out of sight just as he had looked. Slowly standing up, the captain made his was to the backside of the rock. Keeping his eyes glued to the spot where the figure had disappeared, Javar began to push cautiously against the rock.
As he began to do so, the figure popped up out of the brush. It was a wolf-man. In his hands he held an iron crossbow. Before the captain could react, a bolt flew past his right ear and started to bounce crazily off the surrounding boulders. Jumping wildly, the captain pushed hard against the stone and was almost surprised when it slowly gave, and started to careen down the hill.
With no protection, the captain turned to find shelter when he was suddenly hit in the back by an astonishingly accurate shot. The wolf-man had reloaded with impossible speed; this time, the bolt had found its mark, knocking Javar to the ground.
Stunned, but pleased that the warning was on its way, the captain laid there, gasping for breath and tentatively feeling around the wound. For an odd reason, Javar felt as if the arrow was only space being filled in his back. He had always thought that a wound like this would make one dizzy, disoriented, and dim-witted. Yet the pain by some means seemed to give Javar the determination to succeed, and the strength to endure.
The captain had the sensation that the wolf-man would come for him, to see if he had indeed felled his prey. With this belief, the captain pulled himself over to the rock wall, propped himself up next to it, and waited, arrow on the string.
In a moment, without warning, the huge figure of a wolf leapt into view, scimitar raised, flashing in the moonlight. The wolf-man never landed on the ledge, at least on his feet. In the twinkling of an eye, the captain had released the arrow, and watched as the wolf-man twisted in mid-air, and fell into a crumpled heap only a few feet away from him.
In a bewildered daze, the captain lifted himself to his feet. Approaching the dead man with some reticence, Javar was overcome with an intense curiosity to see the man’s face. Even more intriguing, was that the figure of the corpse had shrunken alarmingly to a normal man’s size. Against his better judgment, the captain rolled the body over and was frankly surprised at what he saw.
The man, in every facet of his being, was an average individual. Nothing about him was wolfish in any way. The first feeling that Javar felt was dismay over his kill. What if this man had been under some sort of bondage, or even worse, the whole wolf concept was only his imagination?
This was foolishness. Everything he had seen that night perfectly correlated with his current supposition: that as of yet, he was wholly sane in having the belief that he had come across a most foul race of wolf-men. The captain, now convinced of his own innocence, started to strip all useful weapons off the body for later use.
The crossbow especially intrigued the captain. Unlike the usual, wooden, single shot crossbows of the day, this one was cast iron, and had two firing chambers that were each accompanied by a small store of bolts. The arrows themselves were very short, which allowed for the surprising compactness of the crossbow’s complexity. The captain, who was very interested in the mechanics of this machine, heaved it to chest level and pulled the trigger twice in succession. The results astonished him to an extraordinary level of excitement. The trigger was apparently attached to both chambers, and it would alternate between every shot. And now Javar realized what the store of bolts was used for. Every time a shot was fired in one chamber, a small hooked mechanism would pull another arrow into the chamber, while the other chamber fired its bolt. The whole idea was brilliant!
However his joy was short-lived. The wound in his back suddenly attacked him with extreme pain, and his whole body seemed to shudder and cringe at the sensation. Then he remembered. What was going on down by the river? All pain vanished as he made his way towards the edge of the ledge to survey the scene.
A full-fledged battle was taking place at the encampment. All of his men were bunched into a tight, small area in the middle of the clearing. Most of the tents had been knocked over by the combat, though his men far outnumbered the attacking wolf-men, the lateness of the hour and the unsuspected arrival of enemies were taking a heavy toll on his troops. Already, at least 100 had fallen in battle. His men were drawn into a double layered line, back to back, and were repelling attacking grey-clad wolf-men. Although no casualties could be seen on the side of the wolf-men, it was obvious that this thick knot of soldiers was a huge annoyance to them.
The captain, now completely informed on the conflict, grabbed his weapons, including the crossbow, and started to sprint down the hill. While he was running he felt the pain in his back suddenly climax. Javar’s legs, now unable to keep up with his increasing speed, flopped behind him as his aching body crashed into the ground and started to roll. He kept turning over until he lost all his momentum and came to a slow, precarious stop. The arrow in his back had snapped somewhere on his journey down, and the pain now seemed to radiate through his whole body, causing him to grimace and lift himself to his knees, to inspect the damage. He had to keep going. If he stopped now, he would never get back up. With a sudden jerk of pain, Javar wrenched himself off the ground and stood on his feet. Picking up his scattered weapons once again, he began to descend the slope once more. When he had made his way to about halfway down the slope, he glanced up at the struggle only to see that all the wolf-men had beat a hasty retreat. What could this mean? Surely they hadn’t given up?
Running close to the ground, with dogged determination, the captain suddenly noticed a dark line descending the far slope with impossible speed. The archers were coming in. No. That’s when Javar realized the wolf-men’s plan. All his men were about to be slain by the very double-action crossbow he was now holding. Even as he proceeded to cross the river he saw the first volley, quickly followed by a second and third, wipe out a good portion of his men. With utter desperation, the captain ran toward the nearest trees that he knew must contain the wolf-men, and started to fire aimlessly into the shadows.
The next few moments, the captain was not completely in control of his body. It seemed as if whenever a wolf-man turned towards him, in complete bewilderment, his first response was to aim and fire, look, aim, fire, and suddenly he himself was dodging bolts, yet none hit him. Somehow Javar was ducking, sidestepping, and firing at the same time, usually hitting his targets, which fell to the valley floor with a look of total perplexity on their wolfish faces. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a fierce inferno of flying arrows, all of which were aimed at him, darting through the air, out of the shadows. He was instantly identifying the origin of these shots, and taking shots himself, most of which were successful. He was flying from tree to tree, dropping out of sight, and popping up once again, to his enemies’ consternation, and releasing well-aimed barbs of death. Already he was almost alone, except for the few stray arrows that were striking all around him.
As wolf-men all around the clearing began to realize what was going on, they stopped firing at the helpless men, and began to circle around to investigate the confusion.
The captain by now had crouched behind a tree, due to the fact that he had run out of ammo, and was furiously trying to untangle his sword from his harness. As he once again began to hear the whizzing of soaring arrows, he noticed that the few remaining men of his had rallied and were now conducting a charge toward the very area where he was seeking refuge. Grasping his sword with excitement, the captain decided that if he ever got out of this alive, he needed to get one of those rapid-fire crossbows.
His men were by now attacking the very archers that were firing at him. Taking this as an opportunity to get safely away from his tree, he raised his sword towards the sky and raced towards the line of archers yelling with enthusiastic thrill in his voice, “Onwards men! Rally to me! Take them head on!”
The captain by now had almost reached his men when he realized that the last of his brave warriors had just been mowed down. In a blind frenzy the maddened captain cried, “I will have vengeance!” However, before he even reached the solid line of grey-clad archers, without looking down, he knew that it was all over, and that he would never fulfill his vow. Through the screen of oncoming barb-tipped shafts, he could see the concentrated hatred in the wolf-men’s eyes. As he began to lose locomotor control, he stumbled to the ground. As he did so, he felt all the shafts that were sprouting out of him snap and crackle as the weight of his throbbing body broke them like twigs. His sword flew out of his stinging hand and landed far away from his now mangled body. He could feel the weight and the thud of the arrows as the wolf-men advanced on his mortally wounded body. His now bloodshot eyes looked hopelessly after his lost sword. He was sure that he would never use it again.
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