Nor could his guardsmen, as the men and women of Goria surged away from the creature in their midst, horror clouding all their judgement as some dived to the ground and others simply fled in whatever direction they happened to be facing.
“Grimmand!” Allazar suddenly cried, and forgetting Elayeen, was through the door and out onto the boardwalk in a matter of heartbeats. “Grimmand!”
Another elven longshaft sang across the cobbled yard, this time its passage unhindered on its journey through the now vacant square in the window left by the first. It missed Gawain by inches, passing his left shoulder as he leapt from the boardwalk, the longsword already drawn and swinging. But it did not miss the man-shaped creature lunging towards Simayen Jaxon. The arrow slammed into the creature’s chest and passed most of the way through it, but still the creature’s forward momentum was unchecked, its target clearly the Gorian leader.
Gawain’s sword continued through its mighty arc, whistling over the top of Jaxon’s head to slam into creature’s chest too, and that did check the beast’s attack.
“Run!” Gawain shouted to the paralysed Gorian, and finally danger penetrated through horror to galvanise Jaxon’s consciousness. He fled, towards the stables north of the inn as, incredibly, the creature staggered backwards, fell, and then began to rise again, the great gash in its chest closing, sealing against the solid black ooze within.
A crossbow bolt fizzed past Gawain’s right shoulder and slammed into the creature’s head, Tyrane tossing aside the discharged weapon and drawing his shortsword, his face blank, unmoved by the horror rising up once more in front of Gawain and intent simply on destroying it.
More bolts slammed into the creature from different directions, and though the thing staggered this way and that on its two human legs, yet still it advanced, though now its gaze was fixed on Gawain.
“Grimmand!” Allazar’s voice screamed above the sound of crossbows being fired and cocked, and the screeching of the creature at each impact.
Gawain snatched a glimpse over his shoulder and saw the wizard advancing, staff raised high, sparks crackling around its ends and its entire length glowing brightly.
“Down, Tyrane!” Gawain yelled, hurling himself to the left, and the captain threw himself to the right as a searing blast of white-hot lightning ripped through the air between them, burning a gaping hole clean through the creature, and the tents by the wells, before slamming into the cliff beyond, blasting smouldering chunks of rock from them and leaving a blackened, smoking cavity in their place. At once, the lightning was gone, and with a quiet ‘whoosh’, before the creature’s remains had a chance to topple and fall, it was consumed in rush of purple flame, leaving an oily cloud of smoke rising slowly, and dispersing.
“Aaach!” Allazar growled, slamming the staff onto the cobbles and leaning on it, his face a picture of disgust as he watched the plume rise and fade on the breeze.
Gawain and Tyrane pushed themselves to their feet, the former eyeing the wizard with frank astonishment while the latter commanded his men to order and called for the whitesleeves Turlock, lest any of the Gorians had been harmed.
“What in the name of Dwarfspit was that thing, Allazar?” Gawain gasped, sheathing the blade. “How could it have lived through bolts and blades?”
“It was a Grimmand of Sethi. A foul creature of ancient times, dark-made and utterly evil. The Grimmand of Sethi can take the guise of any person they have slain, and thus they were employed in the elder days, as assassins and murderous infiltrators.”
All around them, the Gorian refugees gathered and stared at the young warrior, and at a wizard the like of which they had clearly never seen.
“They cannot be slain as ordinary men,” Allazar continued, “though dousing with oil and burning was said to be effective. And a wizard’s white fire, of course.”
“At last,” Gawain muttered, “Compindathu, wizard. Your speech finally seems to have returned to normal.”
“Ah.”
A gasp went up from the gathering, though it was perhaps more of a sigh. Gawain at first looked to the throng of mingled Gorians and Callodonians, and then followed their gaze. Emerging on to the boardwalk, tentatively using her bow to test the ground before her, was Elayeen.
“Miheth!” Gawain added his gasp to the crowd’s, and ran to her.
“I hit it twice, did I not?” She asked, her voice worried, staring at his chest while he held her shoulders lightly.
“Yes.” Gawain said softly.
“And it was a dark-made thing, wasn’t it? Not a man I shot?”
“It was a dark-made thing, my lady.” Gawain said, completely in awe of her.
“A Grimmand of Sethi,” Allazar confirmed, announcing his arrival for Elayeen’s benefit.
“I’m sorry Allazar, I still don’t understand you.” Elayeen said sadly.
“No no, that was what the creatures are called, my lady. It was a Grimmand of Sethi.” Allazar said softly, and then, as a smile twitched at the corners of Elayeen’s mouth, added simply, “Ah.”
“I heard your explanation through the open doors. I was worried about my marksmanship though, especially when I saw Gawain move towards the line of flight of my second arrow.”
“It was a bit close, now you mention it, miheth.”
“You moved, G’wain. I told you I would know your brightness in a crowd.”
“I know. And how clever of you to shoot out the window with your first arrow, giving you a clearer shot for the second.”
“Ah.” Elayeen said, and suddenly looked more than a little sheepish.
14. Simayen
Dusk found Gawain, Elayeen, Allazar and Tyrane eating a frugal meal at a large table at the inn, the captain making his report at the same time.
“Healer Turlock says the refugees are in reasonably good health, nothing that rest and good food can’t help. There are a few blisters and bruises, but nothing serious. I’ve housed them in the barn to the south for now, at least they can be together there, and in shelter.”
“Warehouse.” Gawain said after a mouthful of salt pork. “It was a small warehouse for heavy goods that needed the Pass to be entirely clear for slow passages up or down.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry, please continue, Captain.”
“I’ve released some of our supplies for them, what food they were carrying was barely fit for dogs. Some mouldy meat, stale bread made from wild grasses along the way. It does mean my lord that remaining here will be difficult without a re-supply from Jarn.”
“Well, now that our wizard seems to have had his speech returned if not all of his senses, as long as Healer Turlock has no objections we can move to Jarn. Slowly though. I don’t want to rush, and I doubt our friends from Goria will want to either.”
Tyrane agreed. “I’ll confer with the whitesleeves for his opinion, my lord, and let you know as soon as possible. At least there’ll be provisions in Jarn, and we can send word to the castle regarding our new arrivals. I’ve asked this Simayen Jaxon to come and brief us as soon as he has his people settled. They’re still concerned that one of their own number was one of those Grim things.”
“Grimmand,” Allazar said. “If you think it will help, Captain, I can visit them, and reassure them that there are no more such creatures in their midst?”
“That would be very good of you, Serre wizard, thank you. Might help the men sleep a bit easier tonight too.”
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” Gawain said earnestly, sipping at his mug of ale, “We haven’t heard what Serre Jaxon of Goria has to say yet. I got the distinct impression it was his speaking of ‘the darkness’ that attracted the fixed attention of that creature, and I’m not sure it’s a subject that’ll bring us much comfort.”