As soon as the gnolls realized they were under attack, they took cover and began an answering release of arrows. Four were wounded before they understood they were facing their human foes, and another pair were struck even as the first shafts flew from the humanoids' bows. A huge missile nicked the barbarian's ear, another glanced off his chainmail shirt, a third pierced his thigh and went cleanly through, and yet a fourth lodged itself harmlessly between waist and girdle. As he had been told, Chert stood fast, exposed as he was, and continued to send his deadly arrows into the snarling enemy, now only a hundred paces away and slowly creeping nearer.
The gnolls were certain that this was a trap. This lone bowman was but a decoy to draw them nearer so that the other man-things could fall upon them, or so that traps that were certainly nearby could snare them as they had previously. Just as the hyenalike humanoids were certain of this, they also knew that there were but a few humans opposing them.
They, the Nonuz of the Bloody Fangs tribe, were not to be so easily taken by such tricks. Not this time. They had found where the weak humans had laid their traps, and in springing them they had taken losses. That was the way of life. Now they would drive the men away from their prepared place, avoid the traps, and hunt these little creatures down. What joy to harry them, running and panting, through the forest! Soon the men would be helpless and begging for death – those who lived through the chase and capture. Most would fall in the hunt, but the gnolls hoped some would live to provide amusement and entertainment before the feast of victory began. Then there would be much good eating – for, whether roasted or raw and bloody, man-flesh was sweet and tasty!
Trehyeegu, chieftain of the warband, signaled a cautious advance. The lone man had ducked out of sight after another well-sped arrow from one of Trehyeegu's warriors had struck him. Soon the hunt would begin, and he and his warriors would be bounding after men running in fear from their ferocity! Two more arrows arced into the gnoll position, and one lucky shot found a target. The leader of the band snarled and stood up. It was time to charge these men!
A large, black beetle crawled onto the humanoid's foot and up his legging unnoticed. It had large, sharp pincers, and in a second these mandibles were buried in tough hide, drawing blood. With an oath, the hulking humanoid bent to squash the offending bug, but just then he was bitten by a large deerfly and stung by a bumblebee that had alighted on his mangy shoulder.
Trehyeegu, proud chieftain of the Bloody Fangs tribe, let out a yelp suitable for a gnoll whelp and began swatting at himself in an unwarriorlike manner. The frenzied beating of various portions of his own anatomy continued as insects of every type crawled, hopped, and flew around the gnoll. They bit and stung and entered ear and eye without regard for their lives.
Now the chieftain was not alone in his torment, for every one of his fellow warriors was likewise aswarm with a plague of insects. This evidently served as no comfort to the chieftain whatsoever, for a moment later he was running madly through the forest, caroming off trees, trying to swat away the biting things even as he fled in madness from their attack.
Gellor and Chert killed three of the crazed gnolls as they blundered into the place where the men were. Chert was only slightly wounded, and he still had a half-quiver of arrows. He felled two of the humanoid creatures thus. Gellor brought the other down with his hurled spear, and then he finished the job with a swift stroke of his sword. Both adventurers then hastily removed themselves from the area, lest the overflow of insects begin to distress them as they had the gnolls. Chert actually felt a momentary pity for the half-dozen wounded ones who thrashed and howled under coats of crawling death; unable to get clear of die area of infestation, these gnolls had died horribly, bitten and stung to death slowly by hundreds of enraged insects.
As if reading his mind, the bard told him, "They would not have allowed you so easy a death as that, barbarian."
Chert knew that his friend spoke the plain truth, and without further feeling, he left the scene behind.
"What of the others?" he asked Gellor. "Will they rally and come again to hunt us?"
"Those who escaped will bear the marks of their encounter with the little ones of the forest for many days to come," the bard told his friend. "If they rally at all, it will be far away from this place, and the survivors will seek some easier prey to inflict their plundering and cruelty upon."
Chert shook his head, sorry now that any of the foul creatures had escaped, for they would surely harry and slay men and demi-men elsewhere. As long as they lived, gnolls and their humanoid brethren would fight endlessly to conquer and slay humans and their allies – elves, halflings, and the rest.
When they finally found Thatch and Shad several hours later, the boys demanded to hear all the details of the victory. The two boys kept both men up half the night, retelling and elaborating on the engagement. Even though they were still sore from their previous brush with a lone and wounded gnoll, both boys wished in their hearts that they had been with Gellor and Chert when they brought doom upon the humanoids.
Chapter 27
The soft thudding of hooves came steadily closer. The forest around the well-used track of packed clay was as silent as a tomb. Now the horses and their riders came into view around a turn in the pathway. A pair of man-ores rode in front, small arbalests across their laps, lances and swords slung. They wore dirty cloaks of dull brown that failed to conceal the chainmail that was beneath the cloth.
As tough and vigilant as these half-breeds were, the riders behind were more fearsome in aspect, though smaller in size. A broad and knotty-limbed dwarf in steel plate came with a hammer half as big as he, held casually in one hand. Beside him rode a thin-featured elf whose gaunt face matched his thin form perfectly. This elf was old, but not elderly, as it showed in lines and in the eyes that started forth from his narrow face. The robed demi-human smiled and giggled for no apparent reason, and a terrible madness shone forth from his bulging eyes. Behind this ill-matched pair were two more horsed figures, men in armor and bearing many weapons, but they scarcely mattered. Such riders were insignificant in comparison to the evil power of the two who went before.
Hidden in the boughs above, six or seven keches pressed their green-colored hides closer to the branches they clung to and were silent. The terrible aura that radiated from these riders through the Vesve was sufficient to freeze these predatory fiends of the forest into fearful hiding. What they had thought might be prey was certainly something vastly different, and the keches were not so stupid as to stir an inch until the sound of the hoof-falls was no longer heard. The life of the forest became active and made sounds only then. As fearsome as these distant relatives of trollkind were, the silence had not been because of their presence amidst the trees. Their leader pointed westward, and all of the things swung away through the branches. There was easier prey to be had, and the big female who headed up the band smelled losel in the breeze.
Below, already well distant, the six riders went along the trail. "Those keches were scared silly," Keak giggled.
"Too bad we are pressed for time," the dwarf agreed. "Killing a few of those sort would be great sport, for they are tough and die hard."
"Oh, never fear, Lord Obmi, I'd have softened them up a bit before your hammer knocked them over and spread their contents for fertilizer," the elf cackled.