Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [88]
"Come on!" Kern cried, urging his mount into a gallop.
"Kern, shouldn't we be a little more cautious?" Listle called after him, to no avail. Muttering a few choice words about his lack of common sense, she rode after him, Miltiades close behind.
Moments later they burst into a circular glade open to the slate-gray sky. Kern halted for a second, taking in the scene.
A frail old man was battling a huge misshapen creature. Even as Kern watched, the old man's blade-a heavy, antique broadsword-clashed loudly with the creature's spiked club. Somehow, the old man was managing to hold his own. He was wizened and ancient-looking, his flowing hair and beard as white as ivory. He wore no armor, only a simple robe of dove gray. Even at this distance, Kern could see his sharp blue eyes sparking like steel against a whetstone.
The creature bellowed. With its massive, ten-foot frame, warty hide, and blazing purple eyes, Kern guessed it to be an ogre. The monster raised its huge club for a crushing blow.
Drawing the Hammer of Tyr from his belt, Kern spurred his mount forward, thundering into the glade. Listle and Miltiades were not far behind.
The ogre paused, looking up in dull-witted surprise. Then it snarled nastily, baring jagged black fangs. It lurched forward, ready to engage its new enemies.
"Xaraxa!" Listle cried out as she tossed a small ball of pitch mixed with bat fur at the monster. It exploded, and the creature roared, shaking its head, as Listle's spell blinded it.
The ogre swung its club wildly. Kern easily parried the blow. Upon striking his holy warhammer, the club splintered. Miltiades took advantage of the creature's confusion to deal it a blow with his sword, cutting a gash in the ogre's side. Its howl of pain was short-lived. Kern swung his hammer in a glowing arc, striking the ogre full in the chest. The creature toppled and did not rise again.
Quickly Kern dismounted and hurried to the old man, who leaned on the hilt of his broadsword.
"Are you all right, sir?" he inquired deferentially.
The old man snorted in disgust. "I was, until you and your overeager friends here showed up."
Kern stared at him in astonishment.
The old man's shaggy eyebrows bristled like gigantic, snowy caterpillars. "Fighting that rock-brained ogre was the most fun I'd had in months." He tapped a bony finger against Kern's breastplate. "And then you had to come and spoil it all!"
"I-I'm sorry," Kern sputtered, completely taken aback. "I didn't know."
"Well, now you do," the old man grumbled, sheathing his rune-covered broadsword. He turned to retrieve a battered leather pack from the ground. "And I suppose now that you've ruined my sport, you'll be expecting to come share my fire and my supper as well. That way you can be certain you'll spoil my day completely."
Kern stared after the old man, entirely at a loss for words.
The old man glared back. "Well, are you coming or aren't you?" Without waiting for an answer, he started across the glade. "Young people haven't a thimbleful of sense these days," he muttered into his beard.
Kern exchanged a puzzled look with Listle and Miltiades, then shrugged. There didn't seem to be much to do except to follow, so, leading his horse, he trailed along behind the stranger.
Despite his thin and frail appearance, the old man proved fleet-footed. Soon Kern was huffing noisily, and even Listle seemed to be having a hard time keeping pace. The old man moved farther and farther ahead of them until he finally vanished among the trees. Kern exchanged a worried look with Listle, wondering if he had purposely lost them.
The sky was growing purple with twilight when Kern caught sight of a warm, flickering glow between the trees. Moments later, he and the others stepped into a small clearing protected by the boughs of a huge fir tree.
"About time you showed up," the old man said testily. "It seems young people are getting slower these days as well as duller." He sat