The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [21]
Kali touched the swotd with his knuckle, a light touch, enough to cool his skin on the steel. He felt nothing, certainly not the gentle jolt he'd gotten from Garavin's holy relic. What, then, could the sword possibly contain?
The distant sound of chimes drew Kail from his reverie. The haunting, beautiful echo seemed incongruous when wrapped around the normal forest noise. Was it a call to worship from some hidden temple? Kail wondered. He'd already witnessed so many things he'd never thought to see. Who knew what this latest mystery might portend?
The chimes came again, closer, and then Kali saw the herd.
The mist stags came into the clearing between the hut and the forest, weaving among the trees like stealthy phantoms. They were the size of spry colts, their pelts steely gray but sprinkled liberally with silver. The bucks' antlers curved inward in conical shapes, and the stags had a wisp of beaid at their chins. They ran in graceful, springing motions, as if their feet trod air instead of grass.
A spear tip caught the moonlight as it came out of the trees. Kail sucked in a breath, fearing a hunter stalked the beautiful creatures. He heard the chimes again and realized the sound wasn't coming from the animals, but from their shepherd.
The druid stepped into the clearing, shepherding the bucks. Her gaze lifted to his window, and she stared at him through the dark triangle of her hooded cloak. She couldn't have been much older than he, Kali thought.
The mist stags flowed around her, making small sounds that sounded like alarm. The girl angled her head to listen.
The trees behind her exploded in a fireball.
Heat blasted Kail in the face. He dived below the level of the window, instinctively clawing at his face to feel if he was burned. His skin was warm and slick, but unmarked.
Lurching to his feet, Kali returned to the window, scanning the trees for some sign of the girl, but there was nothing, only the panicked herd scattering in every direction. A tree was ablaze, and there came frantic shouts from inside and outside the perimeter of the camp. The small hut quivered with the pounding of feet on floorboards and ladders.
Kail grabbed his sword and tossed it out of the window. He slung a leg over the curved sill and eased himself out, scraping his belly over the wood. He lowered himself until he hung by his fingertips, then dropped.
Retrieving his sword, he trotted quickly away from the hut, into the chaos of the forest.
She couldn't have gotten far, Kail reasoned as he ducked into the trees. He was so absorbed in trying to pick out her hooded form in the darkness that he didn't see the goblins until they were almost on top of him.
Dark, mottled shapes poked swords out of the smoke. Kail froze, hoping his frantic movements hadn't given him away. There were five of them arranged in a hunting party, torches flickering at its rear. In the flickering light, Kali glimpsed a cracked, filth-encrusted gauntlet wrapped around an equally grimy arm. He dropped into the shadows of one of the huge old oaks and watched the gauntlet pass by.
At the edge of the clearing, the party halted. The lead goblin pointed to Garavin's hut, and the others nodded, shaking their weapons and grunting like two-legged swine. They moved in a haphazard line, with no real leader keeping them in check.
Kali thought he was safe, but the last goblin in line suddenly thrust his torch in Kail's direction, spilling light on his face. An exuberant cty went up, and the goblin broke away from the pack to charge at him. The creature swung the torch playfully, as if batting at an insect.
Kail sidestepped, and felt the heat kiss his ear. He'd never liked fire. He would rather face a thousand deaths by drowning than be burned. When he was seven, he'd tripped and fallen in a dying campfire. The blisters on his hands and arms had been agonizing, and though the scars were mostly healed, he'd lost many of the sensitive nerves in his hands. He would never be a painter or a sculptor, but he could