Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [77]
The leviathan twitched convulsively. A long column of bubbles arose from its mouth. The huge creature struggled to keep its eyes open as it sank into the dark and frigid depths.
*****
“That was some fight, wasn’t it? I haven’t had that much fun in, oh, I don’t know how many years!” The little dragon chattered incessantly, as they slowly left the Firbolg stronghold behind.
“Say, I’ve got a great idea! Let’s go back and do it again! There must be a few Firbolgs left for us to torture!” Newt giggled with excitement at the thought of additional pranks.
“Um, maybe some other time,” said Tristan, gently trying to dissuade their enthusiastic comrade.
“And where did you come from, friend?” asked Keren, as the little dragon remained visible for several seconds at a stretch.
“Why, I’m Newt, of course, and I live around here. Your friends had gotten themselves into terrible trouble, but lucky for them I happened to come along when I did. If I had been just a little later, well, who knows what would have happened? But there’s certainly no point in dwelling on that!”
“Well done, Newt,” said the bard, laughing. “It seems we owe you our lives!”
“Well, of course you do. I mean, really – what did you expect? Say, aren’t you that bard fellow they dragged in awhile back? I thought you were dead, but, oh dear, it seems that you’re not. Oh, this really is too bad -”
“Why is it too bad that our friend is alive?” demanded Robyn.
“Well, I do so hate to be wrong, and I told them all that you were probably dead, but you had to show up, alive as a hive of bees, and now – oh, but don’t get me wrong. I think it’s really quite splendid that you’re alive – really I do.”
“Indeed,” nodded Keren. “Well, I’m quite relieved to hear that, Newt.”
“Me too!” snorted Finellen. “I’ve always wanted to owe my fife to a blue worm!”
Newt just said “Hummph!” and turned invisible.
The companions rode hard, paying little attention to direction, only seeking to put much distance between themselves and the Firbolg. The horses flew eagerly across the rugged terrain, forcing their way through dense thickets of thorns and creepers.
After some miles, the unicorn gave a signal and they all reined in, briefly. Robyn dismounted and walked over to the magnificent animal who regarded them with huge eyes. She stroked its neck, and Tristan would have sworn that words exchanged between them, although he heard nothing.
Then, with a proud toss of its head, the unicorn turned and galloped away. The sleek white coat was visible among the tangled fens for some time, and they all watched until it had disappeared from sight.
Robyn said nothing, so they returned to their flight, riding now without panic but covering ground very quickly. Although Tristan wasn’t certain, he thought their course was carrying them generally toward the east, away from the direction they had entered the fens.
Behind them, rising higher and higher every minute, a thick black pillar of smoke billowed into the air.
*****
Grunnarch the Red selected his first target with care. The shock of the landing caught the large fishing village nearly by surprise. Many of the Ffolk fled inland, but they were forced to leave all of their possessions behind. Those who did not flee the raiders swiftly enough fell dead beneath swinging battleaxes or were taken as slaves and felt the bite of cold chains.
The northmen torched the village after collecting everything of value. The fishing boats at anchor in the sheltered cove were sunk or burned, and much livestock was slaughtered. Even before the flames climbed from the roof of the last cottage, the Bloodriders had disembarked their horses.
“Go,” ordered the Red King. “Make haste, and show no mercy.”
Laric smiled, the expression stretching the pasty skin across his cheeks into a grotesque mask. The captain’s eyes smoldered with bloodlust, and Grunnarch fancied that they grew brighter at the thought of the killing to come.
“Do not worry,” said Laric, swinging into the saddle of his sleek