Jokotai was down, as was his horse. Another of the bristle-haired things was attacking the pair. Somehow the monstrosity had managed to bite the nomad's horse. The animal was kicking convulsively from the venom, but Gord thought the attack fatal – watch out for those fangs! Jokotai had managed to get his heavy knife free despite the net, and he had slightly wounded the spiderlike humanoid.
The remainder of the party was too far ahead to hear the commotion on the trail behind, so even as he and Jokotai had to deal with these creatures, the others were riding farther and farther away. Gord had to act quickly; if the Chakyik was wounded by those envenomed fangs, there would be no saving him. for both Curley and Gellor must be a mile distant!
The creature was tearing at its own net with its razorlike claws, gritting at Jokotai's leg. The nomad stabbed futilely, trying to fend it off. The thing was about to bite the kicking leg when Cord's dagger sunk to its hilt in the monster's side. As had its fellow, the creature gave a hissing howl; then it chattered and sprang sideways upon the young thief, bowling him over and preventing him from using his sword. Its claws pierced leather, but the mesh of elfin mail beneath stopped them from causing further damage.
The monster was intent upon closing its jaws upon its victim, though, despite the inability of its raking to inflict harm. As it sought to bite Gord's face, the desperate young adventurer managed to gather both of his feet together. Kicking with all his might, Gord drove the foul form away. The creature flew a few feet backward from the force of the combined boot heels, then leaped toward his prey again, jaws working, fangs dripping poison.
Gord cut wildly with his shortsword as he rolled, back-flipped, and did his best to gain fighting distance between himself and the bristly thing. The slashing blade had inflicted a minor cut. more by accident than design, and this kept the monster at bay sufficiently for the young thief to gain a defensive stance. The thing crouched on all fours, bunched itself, and sprang, once more, sailing straight toward Gord at incredible velocity.
This firm: he was ready; Gord's sword took the thing full in the chest. "I hen both combatants were down and rolling in an entangled hall. Venom burned his bare flesh, but it was merely from splatter, not fangs. Gord tore free and leaped up. The spider-man was unmoving. A pair of feathered shafts protruded from its back. Jokotai nodded unsmilingly at his comrade. They were now even. While Gord had engaged the creature, the nomad had cut through the entangling net and plied his horn bow. Both men were still examining the eight-digited limbs and multi-pupiled eyes when their associates trotted back to where the life-and-death struggle had occurred.
"So you've met an ettercap," was all that Gellor said.
Although they had to traverse only some forty miles of the Suss Forest, it took them almost five days to do so, even with the skills of druids and ranger to assist their progress. The forest was a dark, tangled place of huge trees, fallen logs, thorns, and tangled undergrowth. Using game trails helped, but it exposed the party to attacks such as that which Gord and Jokotai had undergone.
Worse, the place abounded with much more dangerous adversaries. Gord still shuddered when he remembered the battle between a migrating tribe of kobolds and a group of gibberlings. The more intelligent and better-armed kobolds had outnumbered the subhuman gibberlings by nearly two to one – perhaps three hundred of the scaly little humanoids had fought against one hundred seventy-five of the howling, naked gibberlings armed with crude swords and billets of wood. The kobolds had skewered many of the attackers with spears and javelins, then fought in a swirling melee of swords and axes, spears and clubs. Fully half of their number were slain before the kobolds broke and fled, leaving the chattering and howling gibberlings to drag off their feast to some lair deep within the tangled woods.
The group of adventurers had watched the battle from a ridge above the glen where the two forces met. They were careful to avoid both the direction of the routed remnants of the kobolds and the path of the hundred or so surviving gibberlings as well. Although the creatures were individually weak, either of these groups would certainly wipe them out in these close quarters.
On the afternoon of their fifth day of travel through the Suss, the nine finally left the trees behind. Men and horses were tired, dirty, sweaty, scratched, and bitten, thoroughly in need of rest and cleaning. By pressing themselves and their mounts, the little band of adventurers made miles fall behind throughout the late afternoon and evening, and just after darkness fell, a collection of warm, glowing lights signaled the end of their immediate quest.
Within an hour all were bathed, fed, and abed. The place was too small for them to actually refurbish their clothing and such, but when they rode off late the next morning, men and horses were in far better condition than when they had come into the hamlet the previous night. Although they had almost another hundred miles to go before they reached the town of Badwall, the going would be easy compared to their forest passage. With roads to follow and wayside hostels at the end of each day's journey, the adventurers were confident and cheerful as they urged their mounts along.
As promised, Curley Greenleaf was awaiting them when they arrived in Badwall. The nine rode into the courtyard of the Brass Ball, a large inn situated at the western end of town. As typical of all metropolitan communities, Badwall's officials took count of their citizens periodically, and according to what Gord had been told, there were some five thousand souls all told. Yet, from what the young thief observed, and he had practiced such estimation often in judging a place with an eye toward the possibilities of successful application of his profession, Badwall should boast a population nearer eight or ten thousand inside its walls, and perhaps another quarter of that number dwelling in its outskirts. It was a poor place, relying on local crafts, some mercantile exchange, export of honey and wax, and the employment and return of its mercenary company to bolster its economy periodically. Barter was common, for hard money was scarce. This pleased Gord and the others, since a copper common was as valuable in Badwall as a silver noble would be in Greyhawk. No wonder its soldiers returned home after serving elsewhere! A few gold orbs virtually made a man a prince in this place.
The druid had reserved all of the better rooms in the Brass Ball, and the group was swarmed with attendants eager to provide services in return for a few iron drabs, brass bits, or bronze zees. The adventurers spent the next few days re-equipping themselves, resting, and planning an expedition into the forest once again, this time in search of the fabled lost city supposedly abandoned by the Suloise centuries ago. Greenleaf told them that he had given full intelligence of the matter to his superiors, who, in turn, would spread it to all the others concerned. He had then been given leave to go back to his friends and tell them that they would be receiving a further reinforcement to round out their party.
"In any event," Curley told them, "we must not appear to be anything more than a band of adventurers seeking some treasure and excitement. If our true mission is suspected, agents and spies serving the Scarlet Sign will surely be alerted!"
"Then we are not here to recruit a company?" asked the one-eyed bard.
"No, old friend, we are not," Greenleaf" replied. "I know that had been our plan, but events move too swiftly. A small, strong party will be more useful than a large one now… I am certain you realize this."
As Gellor nodded agreement, Gord asked, "For whom do we tarry, then? If the Brotherhood knows that the object of their search is near here, and that this information might have been discovered by their enemies when Strandkeep Castle fell, then they too must be mounting an expedition."