The Lion and the Serpent - Chapter Eleven: Predators

It soared, tethered to the pair that followed it like a kite in a Childs hands. The Hawk slowly glided back and forth while Arador and Seiken followed on foot, the bird of prey visible just above the bare branches of Duskwood’s dark trees. Its golden feathers shining ornately, beautifully as it glided effortlessly. Its head twitched too and throw, as its eyes zoomed over the horizon to an unseen goal.

The pair struggled to keep up, now armed and armoured to the teeth, Seiken in his dark armour, and Arador in Rangers mail with his bow and spear. They walked with a haste that was more alike to running, dashing through long grass, muddy tracks, through thick gatherings of tree's, around and through bushes.

“Are you positive? It found something?” Asked Seiken urgently, his question demanding and desperate as he tried to keep up with Arador.

“Something? No, no, he found it, he found the route... now we just need to keep up, so shush and move yer legs lion boy!” replied Arador hastily, he had no time for questions, only obedience. This was far too important to mess up.

The bridge from Westfall was many miles behind them now; having abandoned the festivities of winter veil they set out immediately in pursuit of their feathered friend. It had been three hours since mid-day, and having left their horses behind at the bridge, travelling at speed was hard through the thicket. Following the course of the river that separated Duskwood from Westfall, they moved directly due south, the rapid flowing river always in sight to their right.

Their exhausting journey seemed near its end when at last the natural barrier that made the vale the fortress it was came into view. As the tree’s parted, the great row of rocky hills that blocked the path into the jungle of the south loomed overhead. The river however passed on through, flanked at both sides by sheer vertical rock. The rapids of that area made swimming through impossible, the mountains, blocked everything. The only way in, was the vale pass, to the east, over a bridge.

“Dam it, a dead end again!” snarled Seiken, having surveyed the area around them. Though the great golden hawk still hovered, circling just ahead of them, a mass of thorny bushes standing guard in front of massive sheer walls of stone blocked their path.

Arador remained silent, gazing over the situation; his blue hawk eye’s looking around with great intensity. He suddenly paused, fixing his gaze on the huge gathering of bushes.

“No... We just can see it from down here, through those bushes...” muttered the Ranger, drawing his sword hastily he began to cut, hack and chop his way through one section of the mass of twisting dark green thorns.

Seiken didn’t hesitate; he huffed a grunt, narrowing his eye. Drawing his own sword, he began to cut down the mass of tangled barbs at Arador’s side. All the while the great golden bird of prey continued to circle, its eerie cry’s screeching along the wind far above them.

They cut, slashed and hacked their way forward in a whirlwind of steel. Ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet of sharp barbed bushes they moved through, until it slowly began to clear. Cutting down the last twisted branch of spikes, Arador stepped out, sheathing his sword, sweat sliding down the side of his left temple. Seiken followed with his sword still drawn and ready...

The view that greeted them, neither could have expected or dreamed of. A gap, a narrow crack in the wall that was the mountains ahead of them, some twenty feet wide, the mountains had a narrow pass between them. The massive layer of thorns and bushes had obviously hidden it from any scouts view for decades.

Sheathing his sword, The Lion tilted his head. Swallowing, his eye blinked and adjusted. Without a word or any consideration, they both approached, heading in, now at a slow walking pace. The narrow pass moved south for around a hundred metres, then curved off south east and upward. The ground was smooth, eroded from rain in the monsoon season perhaps. It was a grand discovery, one that made the pair smile with anxious anticipation as they followed the path.

It was also widened out as it rose higher up, wide enough for an army to pass through easily, unnoticed. It was perfect, ideal, spectacular... and the trolls didn’t know about it.

Advancing, they kept their walking pace as they inspected the trail with wonder lust. Gradually as the ground reached the summit of its elevation, they left the path, and found themselves on a large plateau. No bushes, plants or any beast seemed to dwell here, only rocks and small dry potholes that had been eroded away by heavy rains. Pausing at the exit to the pass, they stared south to see their goal. The canopies and tree tops of the vale.

“This is it...” Seiken found himself murmur under his breath. Arador had found it, a miracle. No sooner had he muttered those words did his legs burst into action, overwhelmed by a hope he’d long since felt. Racing toward the other side of the plateau. Arador chuckled, jogging after him with the hawk now following them, swooping and circling just above head height.

Reaching the edge, Seiken slid to a halt a metre from the edge. Gazing down at first he saw only sheer rock, and a fifty foot drop, with the river they had followed just below it. Beyond that, lay the lush green jungle that was Stranglethorn, and barely visible in the distance sat a gathering of tents, the hunters camp. Arador came to stand at his side, the hawk swooping past at speed and over the edge, gliding eastward.

Shifting their gaze, they could see a narrow but accessible slope down from the plateau and onto the north side of the river, curving off from the bottom. And laying just beyond, out of sight but not out of mind, the main road from Duskwood and the Vale pass to Booty bay.

“Race you to Rebel camp!” yelled Arador, his legs bursting into motion and a great running pace toward the small slope, laughing as he went.
Oh it’s a race you want? How can i say no at a time as great as this?

“You’re on!” roared Seiken with laughter, weighed down by armour as he was; he raced after as fast as he could manage. Hurtling along the plateau edge as fast as he could, Arador was beyond reach, but he still laughed and pursued as they slid down the slope and into the vale. Leaping through the grass and over hills eastward, Seiken tried to keep up, but Arador as fast as he was soon vanished out of sight.

Seiken jogged onward, until he came to the graveyard overlooking the river, pouncing up the hills side and past the trees he landed next to an old gravestone, cracked and weathered. As he paused, without warning, he felt a sudden and powerful collision, as a mass of mail tackled him to the ground, covering his mouth.

What the hell-

“Shush!” Arador snarled, keeping a firm hand over Seiken’s bearded face, looking back over his shoulder and over the gravestone that shielded Seiken’s view of the road. Slowly letting go, Arador looked up and over it, gesturing with his hand that Seiken do likewise.

What in Thoradin’s name are you up to now?

Slowly picking himself up onto one knee, Seiken looked over the top of the gravestone. Narrowing his eye on the road. There they strode, as his eye narrowed and locked onto them, his heart racing with that rage. Troll’s, a Gurubashi patrol of some ten or so heading north to the vale pass. They were clad in a wide array of wooden masks, strange effigies and various cruel looking blades. As typical as any soldiers of the empire, they wore the tabard of the twin golden snakes on a field of jet black upon their chests. They were jogging past, armed to the teeth. A slave hunting party heading to Duskwood. Within a second they had moved out of sight, behind the hill’s and onward. They were lucky in that they had not been noticed.

Kill them, slay them Human... reap your vengeance!

The voice of the Loa roared up from nowhere, angry and ready for battle.

Silence! I am the master here...

The distant echo of the Loa growling rang through his mind, it desperately wanted action.

“We had best try and follow them, see what their up to...” murmured Arador in a voice tone as he picked himself up, dragging Seiken up by his arm and onto his feet too. Seiken nodded once, drawing his sword.

“You lead, your better at tracking than me... just don’t go too fast aye?” replied Seiken. His heart was racing, a chance to strike back at their enemies, enact some degree of bloody revenge... no matter how small.

Arador nodded, running to the road with his bow firmly in hand and seiken following as best he could. Hawkeye circled the spot the group of trolls had passed over, eyeing their tracks, intermingled with that of others.

“Good, follow me...” commanded Arador, as he spurred of up the road northward, looking down then up as he went, ensuring he had the right trail. Seiken followed, this time he kept up, the lust for revenge pushing him to run faster.

Within minutes they passed the ominous ruins of what was a troll wall blocking the road from the vale pass, the statues of snakes an ever present reminder to all who passed them of where they were going, into the heart of the empire. To their left was the small trailing off and up to the vaguely visible Rebel camp, the smoke from its smouldering camp fires just noticeable. Ahead was a deep ravine that separated the jungle from Duskwood. Finally, to their right, was the road to the bridge into the Dark forest.

Arador maintained his running pace, speeding onward along the road to the bridge into Duskwood, Seiken doing the best he could to keep up. Just before they crossed however, Seiken’s eye was caught by a dead tree overlooking the area. Its dark rotten wood was filled with holes. It was a twisted, almost macabre sight, appearing terribly out of place in this lush jungle scenery.

He collected his thoughts, again trying to keep up with Arador. Passing over the creaking wooden planks that formed the bridge and under the dark leafy canopy of Duskwood.

Sweat began to slowly drip down the side of his head, his lungs burning with mild exhaustion. He collected his thoughts, Revenge was there to be taken, he had only need to keep up.

Let me help you Trollbane... let me show you, come, revel in your anger. I only want to help...

The voice of the Loa whispered amongst his thoughts, though now it was calm and understanding, wholly different to how it was earlier.

I have no reason to trust you... why should i?

Because your enemies fear the gods, not you... embrace the rage of this Loa, and they shall cower...

His mind fluttered with thoughts as he considered. Arador suddenly veered off east of the road and into the forest, Seiken leaping after him as they weaved through the tree’s in hot pursuit.

Fine... fine! I’ll do as you ask! Just this once...

Good, you are wise to accept, when the time comes... listen... and embrace my words...

The voice echoed off into the distant corners of his mind, now silent. Seiken panted and panted, trying to maintain the pace, but Arador was slowly creating a gap between them, five feet, ten feet. Until without warning and with perfect control Hawkeye stopped, kneeling behind a bush. Seiken slid to a halt at his side, kneeling with exhaustion, panting his heart out. Running in heavy plate was extremely tiring, thus why most soldiers like to keep mounted.
Arador raised a finger over his mouth, making a clear and resolute “Shhh!”. Placing his hand on top of the leafy bush that obscured their view, he pulled it down a few inches, revealing the view beyond.

Ahead of them, was a small farm house. Its door wide open, and figures gathered around the front. Trolls, cackling and speaking, some seven or so of them. They had captured four prisoners who they now had kneeling in front of some robed trolls, at spear point. A middle aged man, his hair balding was sat pinned down by a spear behind his neck. Beside the man was his wife, being prodded and prodded by an armoured troll. She wore a simple blue dress, her blonde hair a mess as she wept and screamed while the troll laughed at her despair. Thirdly, a small girl, no older than ten was hauled over a large Troll’s shoulder. She kicked and screamed while she cried for her mother and father, her captor spoke to the robed troll pointing back and forth discussing what to do with the trio.

Lastly, being pinned down by two very large mail armour wearing Gurubashi was a man in plate armour. His hair was short and brown, his face clean shaven, but covered in the mud from his face being forced into the dirt. His body was adorned in beautiful ornate armour, judgement armour, a paladin. Nearby lay a large well designed mace, its hammer like shape was adorned with beautiful carvings and its head was shaped as a gryphons face one side and a lion on the other.

Edgar...

Seiken gasped, he knew this young paladin well. The one who had thwarted the plans of Zaraj against Stormwind some months before. His friend was i danger, and so was this family.

The prince narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his already drawn sword. Silver-strands clear silver surface shimmering even in the dim light of this place. Arador slowly took two arrows from his quiver, threading them into his bow at the same time.

“Quick and clean aye?” whispered the ranger, his eyes locking onto his targets.

“Quick and decisive...” murmured Seiken in return as he advanced around the bush crouching. Moving slowly through the tall grass, he approached unseen, moving from one tree to the next. A Lion prowling for the kill. Arador stayed in his position, aiming his taught bow, still and ready.

Creeping forward, silently, he came to the edge of the clearing... the unaware Gurubashi only some twenty feet away, backs turned and looking down on their captives.

Breathe, Trollbane... clear your mind of any thoughts... let your heart race and run free...

Seiken listened to the Loa, silently heeding each and every word it said. His body becoming composed, calm, ready...

When the right moment comes, remember it all, every ounce and fibre of your rage. Do not let it build up, simply unleash it in one... ...one single tidal wave of fury... let your heart and soul run free...

One last breath, he inhaled deeply... the cool air running through his lungs. Watching as the robed Gurubashi drew a curved knife from his side, slowly leaning forward toward the middle aged man, as he began to scream.

Now...

His legs pushed forward, his mind thinking back to that monstrous view in the highlands. That mound of the defiled dead. His heart erupting with a torrent of Dark rage. He ran silently, despite his plate, clean across the clearing toward the group... his sword held at his side and ready. Baring his teeth, and roaring as the first troll came to within range of striking.

The trolls turned their heads to seek the location of the angered roar. Only to see the plate armour wearing troll decapitated, cleanly with a sudden spray of blood spurting forth from its open neck as his body fell to the ground. The young girl that was upon his shoulder screamed with panic, landing on top of slain Gurubashi.

The lead troll gasped with shock, then yelled “Twa turo T’sin shar!”. It could have meant anything, it didn’t matter. Two arrows whistled past, striking the two trolls who held their spears aimed toward the mother and father. Their throats pierced, they dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, a hissing squeal of pain as escaping their mouth’s as they tried to draw breath.

Seiken roared once more, his furious rage sounding through the forest as his eye lit up with fiery hatred. Heart racing with power, his arms urging him to strike.

The pair Holding Edgar dropped the paladin, pulled their swords from their simple sheaths and charged Seiken. The first, and the larger made a large cutting arc from above with his giant curved scimitar, though he quickly found Seiken diving under it and throwing him over his shoulder with ease. As the Troll was thrown over the side, another Arrow flew into the back of its unguarded neck, of which it oddly enough landed on with all its weight, pushing it through its spine with a horrible crack and out its tusked mouth. Arador was showing of his archery skills again.

Keep going... yes... feel the fury, Revenge is yours, take it!

The second of the pair was upon him as soon as the first had hit the ground. Its claymore, with blade point shaped as a snake’s mouth, swung toward him in a sideward cut. Silver-strand was guided effortlessly, Seiken stepped into the Trolls side and cut downward with clean and brutal strength, the blade passed effortlessly though both its wrists. The snake like sword flew off with the momentum of the swing, complete with hands still attached.

The Troll screamed, though it was short lived. The silver blade slashed backward, cutting clean across its neck. The tusked head of the troll coming away cleanly, Silver-strands blade knowing no bounds with its armour penetrating ability. The body of the fallen foe tumbled backward, a torrent of crimson spilling down the tabard of the twin snakes.

Good! Good! Now, only one more...

Seiken took a deep snarling breath, his armour stained with the blood of his foes. He turned to look upon the last troll, their leader. Robed in crimson red, with a wooden mask covering his face, all but for his bent twisted tusks. This one wore no tabard, though his allegiance was obvious. The troll snarled and aimed his large jagged curved knife forward in defiance.

“Tar To Twa’sing!” screamed the ring leader, taking the first of what would have been a charging step. Thud, it came over his head from behind. A mass of solid Truesilver and gold, crushing his head downward with immense weight and strength. The downward violent cracking of his neck sent a cruel shiver up Seiken’s spine.

Falling to the ground lifeless the troll’s head was forced unnaturally into the top of its chest, and there stood behind it was Edgar, his huge ornate war-hammer in hand.

“Praise the light, you came just in time! I owe you a drink for this one for sure!” yelled the youthful paladin with a satisfied smile.