Almost a third of the enemy were accounted for, dead or wounded, and some certain harm had come to those at the head of the company. What more to do? Get away, thought Gord as he heard a loud commotion to the north and realized that the main camp was sending more troops to help die party under attack.
The young thief made a dash for escape, angling slightly toward the humanoid encampment but away from the pathway through the forest's heart. He kept very low and used every bit of brush and tree trunk to cover his movement. Quarrels and arrows whizzed through the woods, but they seemed to be released at random. After covering about fifty paces Gord halted and made a soft hooting noise, a prearranged recognition signal that he and his friends had agreed to when they entered the forest.
When no answering hoot came, but branches near the trail thrashed and bent, Gord moved quickly onward. Gellor would be able to fend for himself, and the losels, anyway, were still looking for those who had attacked their band. Much shouting and noise of running feet could be heard along the trail now, and Gord knew that a considerable reinforcement was coming up. The humanoids might still go on, and there was no need for silent attack any longer. Gord remembered the enspelled acorns that Curley Greenleaf had given him long before, and dug the pair of nuts out of his pouch. Giving a silent prayer to Nature that the missiles would retain their power, he slung both in rapid succession toward the noise and crashing of brush that came from near the trail.
Gord remembered to shut his eyes and avert his gaze even as he whipped the second of the two acorns toward the chosen area. The first one burst before he could manage to shield his eyes. There was a flash that momentarily revealed a mass of humanoid shapes, a sheet of fire and screaming curses, then all was totally black. Gord's tightly shut eyelids had sparks and floating balls of light inside them, but his ears heard the second missile burst, followed by more cries and oaths. He fell flat on his belly and crawled as rapidly as he could, heading in the direction that he was sure was directly away from the enemy.
After a minute or two of worming his way, Gord halted and allowed his breathing to slow to its normal rate, then he willed it even lower and listened. His vision would be useless for some time yet, but his ears were functioning perfectly. There was a lot of noise behind him, so he gave a little sigh of relief. At least he had managed to do that right. What the young thief heard indicated that the humanoids now had officers who were setting about their work with precision and discipline. Orders were shouted, and responses made. Squads were beginning to beat the bushes; there were losels in the trees, and more climbing up from the sound of it. Gord surmised that the enemy encampment must have contained not a few score of humanoids, but hundreds! The attack on their scouting and raiding party had merely stirred them up. Well, no help for that, and at worst Chert and the lads with him would have a chance to get the hell out of the way of the swarm of enemies coming back along the trail.
Suddenly the order of the search was disrupted. There were sounds of terrible squeals and grunting, crashing of vegetation, and then the shouts and screams of the humanoids. They had evidently disturbed more than one wild boar, and the huge pigs were attacking savagely. Gord's exceptional vision was returning now, and he looked toward the commotion as he stood up and prepared to slip eastward and then head back south toward his own camp. Energy, glowing and crackling, was playing about the area. Now Gord cursed, for his special vision was again ruined for minutes, but his normal sight allowed him to judge that at least two magic-users were plying their arts against the ravening swine.
Time and more to be gone, no question. Gord gripped his enchanted shortsword tightly, allowing the power of the blade to surge upward. He could see just as humanoids and demi-humans saw now, a strange illumination of things warm and cold. It was inferior to the power of sight that his ring bestowed, but it was not clouded by the exposure to light from the magical missiles and bolts he had just seen. With this sight, he managed to escape the ongoing battle and slip southward without detection by the enemy.
Because he knew what to look for, Gord had no difficulty finding where his friends had gone. The original site they had chosen was deserted, of course, for Chert could not have failed to hear all the ruckus to the north and acted accordingly. The horses left a distinct trail if you knew that three had been in the place once. There were no droppings around, and a scent of nettles masked odors in the place. The tracks had been brushed, hurriedly but well enough. Gord grinned in admiration as he envisioned the flurry of activity that must have accompanied the process. The hoofmarks led eastward, winding between the massive trees, and then turned south to parallel the trail at two hundred or so yards. After a couple of minutes Gord could hear the faint sounds of hooves and men. He again gave the low hooting call, and this time there was a soft reply from ahead. Then another came from behind! Gord froze, pretending to be a tree. A soft footfall came, then the swishing sound of a disturbed bush. Another followed the tracks left… but was it friend or foe?
Gord heard a snuffling almost at the same time a repeated hoot came from ahead. "Shut up!" He sent this thought wildly in Chert's direction, even as he stared back toward the soft sniffing noise. He saw a losel bent close to the ground, traveling on all fours, while another of its unnatural kind followed closely. The second creature was alertly watching for any enemies as its fellow followed the scent. The challenge was to kill both before either could alert other humanoids nearby. The snuffling one was sure to detect his presence momentarily, so Gord had no time to plan. He simply acted and hoped.
Gathering himself without a sound, Gord sprang as if he were a two-legged cat. As he landed, he brought the point of his sword squarely down upon the crouching ape-ore. It sunk to the hilt into the creature's exposed back, but the young thief allowed himself no glance at the result. He was upon the second losel in the same motion that had enabled him to pierce the first. This creature had turned its head to survey the surrounding area as the two sought their prey. Gord had sprung when he saw this, and the upright ape-ore had no time to utter a cry. His long poniard bit into the creature's throat even as it raised its short club and struck at the attacking human. The bludgeon stunned Gord, and the two antagonists fell together, the losel snapping and tearing at Gord with its dying ferocity, as the young man locked his fingers around the beast's throat and squeezed with all his might to prevent any utterance from its foul throat. The nails digging into his flesh ceased their pressure, and the losel's jaws opened in a gurgle of death.
Just as he was rising and turning to retrieve his blade from the back of the first of the ape-ores, Gord heard scrabbling and gasping sounds from the direction the losels had come. What damned enemy now came? He jerked the sword free and spun, ready to strike.
"Hold," a voice said softly. "I've just done for the third of those things, and I think that's all that followed." It was the bard's voice, and Gord relaxed.
"Chert and the rest are just ahead," Gord whispered to Gellor as his friend stepped into view from behind the screen of brush that had separated them. "I'll signal them that we're coming."
The bard grabbed Gord and made a shushing sound. "Don't do that!" he admonished. "I've heard the losels make a very similar call when they want their fellows to come. It seems we picked a poor sound for recognition," he added ruefully. The two men trotted as quickly as they could, calling Chert's name softly as they went. Fortunately, Chert had been creeping toward the muted noises of combat with the losels, and the barbarian heard and recognized his friends' calling immediately. Together, the three rejoined the two lads and led them deeper into the forest, going directly away from the humanoid pathway that ran through the Vesve's hidden interior. As they went they worked up the whistle of a nightbird as their new recognition call. They wanted no more problems there, for what they faced was sufficient without the addition of bringing losels to them.