Session 1, Chapter 6: The Gauntlet
It looked as if the kanks had been killed first. One was still pointed in the direction of the road. The other had been turned around and was possibly heading back towards the caravan when it dropped. Both were already giving off a terrible stench that turned the stomach; it was the insects’ posthumous defense against predators. The riders had managed to dismount and had drawn their axes, but they had not gotten far before they, too, were shot full of elven shafts. Aral stared grimly at their lifeless bodies. Elisha and Samuel, dead. Along with… who did we lose to the gith? Yes, it was Haran and Ashem. So much for our good omen. At this rate, the kanks will end up pulling a caravan of ghosts into Raam.
Karick stood up from examining Elisha’s corpse, holding one of the arrows. “The fletching is similar to what we pulled from the thri-kreen, so I assume it’s the work of the same tribe.” He lowered his gaze back to the body at his feet, pointing out the dead woman’s coin purse. “They didn’t stay to loot, though. The elves must have ran off right after they killed them.” The guide looked back up and said to no one in particular, “This is bad.”
Basal turned to Gravik. “They’re picking us off. We need to bring the other outriders back in, if they’re still alive.”
“Aye.” The stout dwarf glanced at Laalresh out of the corner of his eye, but the caravan master was still in shock. Gravik scowled and addressed the thri-kreen. “You’re the fastest, run back and fetch them, eh? And you two! Load up those bodies into the wagons. We ain’t got time to bury them here. And push them kanks outta the way! Faster, you fools!,” he called out, clapping his hands loudly together. “We need to be moving again!”
He’s right, you know. The psicrystal’s voice sounded almost subdued to Aral’s mind.
The young psion slowly nodded. I know. He moved to help carry the bodies to the rear wagon. Some of the guards were hurrying to shove the foul-smelling kanks off the road, while others stood with arrows nocked as they nervously scanned the rocky terrain.
Laalresh soon recovered his senses and gave everyone orders that matched what they were doing already. All was made ready, the kanks hauling the wagons were whipped into a frenzy, and the caravan lurched into motion, moving as fast as the insects physically could. Still not very fast, Aral reflected. And they probably won’t hold out for very long at this pace. But he kept his thoughts to himself. The mood of the other guards was grim enough already.
Krik eventually returned with the rear scouts in tow, reporting that there had been no sightings of elves. As the caravan continued on its way, the thri-kreen elected to travel atop the canyon ridges that embraced both sides of the road, that he might catch an ambush before it happened. All were certain that the elves were not finished with them.
When the attack finally came, however, it caught everyone off-guard. Two bands of elven archers had cunningly concealed themselves along the uneven ridgelines, unnoticed by Krik or by the guards on the ground. When the wagons had almost reached the elves’ hiding spots, they rose up from the dirt with their bows in hand and loosed a hail of arrows at the lead kanks. One of the elves, obviously better equipped than the rest, placed his arrow right through the eye of one of the kanks, killing it instantly.
The defenders scrambled to respond to this new threat. Krik sprang on the lead elf, and traced three red lines across the raider’s face with his claws. But before anyone else could react, the elves raced off in different directions. The thri-kreen tried to grab the leader as he ran, but only ended up with a scrap of his rock-colored cloak. The fight was over almost before it even began.
“WHAT in the Dragon’s name just happened?!” screamed Laalresh.
They’re trying to cripple us, Aral realized. If they kill the kanks, we’ll have to abandon the wagons. Or stay with them and be worn down by hit and run attacks. Either way, they win. The kank handlers were already scurrying to replace the dead kank with one of the outriders’ mounts, while Basal healed a kank that was wounded but still alive. We cannot let them stop us! I will not let them stop us. Aral looked at the men and women around him, and he felt a flash of hatred rise up through him. They can strike at us if they wish, but I will make them pay for it, each and every time.
No! his psicrystal shouted in his mind. Concentrate on the task at hand! If you want to reach your destination, you must ignore all distractions – including these raiders.
Aral shook his head. You don’t – you can’t understand. Your viewpoint is too limited. The crystal’s only answer to that was a sullen mental harrumph.
The next ambush occurred less than an hour later, but this time the caravan was better prepared for the assault. The elves still managed to hurt several of the kanks, but before they could run they took return fire in the form of arrows, bolts, and missiles of ice and lightning. Several elves tumbled to the ground; the rest fled into the desert.
The hit and run attacks continued as the sun dipped towards the horizon. The elves attempted to strike the rear of the caravan, or avoided the side of the road that Krik patrolled in order to avoid detection. But the defenders adapted to their tactics and learned to spot the ambushes before they were sprung, and so it happened that more and more elves fell with every assault. Still, the attacks were inflicting a toll on the caravan – another kank had been killed (and replaced with the last riding mount), Basal did not have much healing power left, and both Karick and Aral were mentally exhausted.
Forget the kanks, I can’t maintain this pace. Aral unslung his crossbow and briefly stopped to load it. He wasn’t a very good shot, but his mind and his body both ached fiercely and he knew he had pushed himself to his limit.
The wagons topped a rise, and below them the hills and canyons that fell from the Blackspine Mountains flattened out into a wide plain that stretched to the limits of the fading light. On that plain lay a cluster of wooden buildings surrounded by a circle of stones that were piled up to form a crude wall. Torches blazed along the circumference of the stone berm, illuminating a ragged patchwork of defenders on the wall that were loosing arrows into the dusky twilight. As the caravan got closer, Aral could dimly make out lanky humanoids moving in the shadows that encircled the outpost, shooting arrows of their own at the defenders. More elves.
“The outpost still stands!” Laalresh shouted. “Hurry! Can’t we move any faster?!” But the kanks had been pushed to a murderous pace for several hours now, and were unresponsive to any further whip cracks.
In a last ditch attempt to prevent the caravan from reaching the fort, the elves that stood between the two turned their bows from the outpost and towards the wagons. The human guards fired their own missiles at their attackers, but the fading light favored the elves’ keen vision. And without the psionic powers of the kineticists, the humans were lacking much of their strength. Even so, the elves attacking the caravan were outnumbered, and took more losses than they gave. After losing half their number, they decided that the fight was lost, and melted away into the shadows.
The train of wagons hastily rumbled down the sloping trail. I just hope that they don’t change their minds before we reach the fort, Aral wearily thought to himself. The defenders on the outpost’s wall saw them approaching, and a cheer spread down their lines. The rest of the elves noticed as well, prompting them to gradually retreat back into the gathering darkness.
The caravan reached the outpost’s gate, where they were greeted with shouts of joy and disbelief by the surviving garrison. As the massive wooden gates were closed behind them, a stern looking man with a shaved head stepped forward.
“Laalresh, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you could make it – a little early, aren’t you?” Though the words themselves were humorous, the man’s tone, and his smile, were not. The men around him laughed loud and hard, though.
“My name is Gorgoreth. As the man in charge, it is my pleasure to welcome you all to Outpost Three. Stay a while, won’t you?”
Good stuff.
