The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [71]
The giant fell with a strangled sound of bubbling air, thrashing on his face for only a moment before he perished in a growing circle of blood. By this time, Brandon had deflected the attack of a second firbolg, then stumbled back with the rest of his men, driven by the furious charge of the hulking humanoids.
Trolls shrieked in savage glee as they pressed home their attack, rending screaming humans with tooth and claw. Grunting giants closed from the other direction, pressing the valiant warriors off the now-muddy commons into a neighborhood of shacks and houses. Attacked from three sides, pressed by trolls and firbolgs, the humans of Codscove and their hapless allies from the north had only one choice. As a mass, with a few courageous knights and north-men guarding the rear, they fled toward the forest, abandoning their town to the brutal attackers.
* * * * *
Newt meandered through a clump of fading lilacs, relishing high summer in Myrloch Vale. There really was no better place in all the world, he decided. He wasn't at all hampered in his conclusion by the fact that he knew very little about the rest of the world, at least the parts that lay beyond the Moonshae Islands.
The faerie dragon was one who could find delight in the darkest winter night, in a howling tempest off the sea, or in the whistling scourge of a hot, dry wind. Yet there was something about summertime, and something about this great valley, that made for an unbeatable combination.
The faerie dragon's butterfly wings hummed through the air. Idly, without really paying attention to his appearance, Newt shifted his scales from the brilliant green of the surrounding foliage to the soft blues and purples of a field of columbine. He sniffed at a wild rose and his color became a matching crimson.
A noise in a thicket attracted Newt's attention, and he buzzed over to see what caused the commotion, blinking out of sight as a routine precaution. Pressing the lush branches aside, he saw a huge brown form hunched over a large rotten log.
A bear! The huge ursines were rare in the Moonshaes, and it had been many years since Newt had seen one, but he immediately remembered that the gruff, short-tempered creatures made for splendid entertainment.
Silently and invisibly the faerie dragon hovered above the bear, observing the broad paws, tipped with blunt but exceptionally long claws. The animal tore great chunks away from the log before leaning forward to snatch up plump grubs with a long, pink tongue.
The opportunity was too priceless to waste on a hastily conceived prank, so Newt took his time deciding what sort of illusion would be the most entertaining. Finally he settled upon a plan, staring downward with the concentration necessary to weave his simple spell.
The bear huffed in confusion as it detected something moving within the log. Rearing backward in surprise, the animal growled ominously, still unable to see the wriggling form.
Then the growl turned to a squawk of dismay as the wedged head of a huge viper slithered from the rotten log and darted toward the bear's shaggy belly.
Yowling in dismay, the huge creature turned a complete backward somersault as more and more of the snake emerged. The green-scaled body gathered into a monstrous coil around the log. A forked tongue flicked toward the bear, and the huge mammal backed farther away from its former meal. Then, with an angry bellow, it turned and blundered away through the brush.
The illusionary snake vanished as Newt chuckled delightedly. A big snake-he'd have to remember that one in the future! Still buzzing aimlessly, he drifted on, poking here and there among the forests and meadows of the vale.
It was some hours later that his nose picked up the scent of another victim. Hurrying forward, Newt came to a wide trail. Pacing easily along the ground below him was the lanky form of a great gray wolf.
Suppressing a delighted giggle, for wolves were among