The Hag’s claws raked at fangs sides, causing him to blink away before being too severely injured. Rone’s arrows sank deep in the Hag’s chest, only to be torn out and threw to the side. Her terrible screech filling the night and echoing through the forest.
Rone, seeing that fang was out of the way, whistled sharply, then made a small flicking motion with his fingers.
As he did, giant thorns erupted from the ground below the Hag. Impaling it first through a leg, then a shoulder.
Rone knew the thorns wouldn’t stop it, but it would slow it down. The Hag screamed in pain, but still, it lurched forward, this time towards Trisha. Who until now, had been frozen in place with shock. Rone and Fang rushed to her defense, one with blades, the other teeth, and claws. Placing themselves between Trisha and the creature, they prepared for a brutal fight.
Bog Hags may appear like an old woman, but it’s only a camouflage. They are monsters, quick and deadly. Razor-sharp teeth fill their gaping mouths, in not one, but three rows. Five-inch claws on each of their four gangly fingers can sever arteries in a single blow. Add those things to a nearly insatiable desire to kill, and the tales of scared villagers become all too real.
Rone yelled for Trish to stay behind him as he drew the sword called LightVein from his back. Its brilliant enchantment flaring to life, causing the Hag to stop in its tracks to shield its eyes. Used to hunting at night and spending the daytime laying beneath the dark moss-covered waters of their homes. They have a weakness to light. If bright enough, it will stun them briefly.
Rone whirled the blade in his hand and moved to attack the creature when Trish pushed her way in front of him, her arms extended out before her, and her fingers curled into almost claws as she pointed towards the Hag.
With a burst of heat, magefire blazed from her fingertips, striking the Hag in the chest. It howled in pain and bolted to the left, trying to find a way to counter-attack.
Only to be cut off by Fang, who was blinking in circles around the Hag, biting at its legs to keep it off balance.
With a final burst of searing fire, the hag dropped to its knees in agony. As smoke and blood trailed from its wounds, Rone almost felt sorry for the creature. So, with a final blow, he ended its suffering and removed the creature's head from its shoulders. Successfully ending the battle in one blood-spattered swoop.
He stared down at the creature wondering why it had ventured this far from the swamps when Trish walked up beside him.
“Good job Trish, I thought you had frozen up on me,” Rone said, looking at her and smiling.
“I did, for a minute.” She replied, smiling back.
“Well, you came through when it mattered, and that’s all that counts,” Rone said as he wiped the blood from his blade on a patch of moss grass.
“I see you found that reason to try and save me after all.” She said with a sly grin. Her remark causing embarrassment to flood Rone's face as he recalled his words back at the Inn.
“I suppose I did,” he replied and headed towards the forest edge.
“We need to find Traijen,” he added as he knelt to check Fang's wounds.
“You ok, boy?” He asked, rubbing Fang's head. Who stretched and yawned as if to show he was.
“I need you to find Traijen boy, he could be hurt or worse.” Fang barked once, then threw his head back and howled. A signal Rone knew meant he was on the hunt. As Fang tore off into the forest, Rone turned to Trish.
“Stay close, just in case.” He said, and the two of them took off in a jog following the sounds of Fangs howls.
It didn’t take long before the great wolf’s keen nose had found his scent. Causing Rone and Trish to pick up their pace when they heard his howls become almost frenzied barking.
As they entered a small clearing, they could see Fang barking and hopping around to the sound of Traijens voice yelling for him to kill it.
Rone notched an arrow in his bowstring and prepared for whatever had Tray on the defensive, expecting it to be a bear or some other forest predator. But as they moved closer in and his eyes found what the commotion was about, Rone couldn’t help but burst into laughter. There was his friend clinging to a tree for dear life. All while Fang circled and barked at the Silk-hopper.
Strange creatures that are something of a cross between a rabbit and a spider. They could be startling in appearance with their many legs, long ears, and furry bodies. But they were gentle by nature and utterly harmless to everything but a leaf.
However, these creatures were prized among tailors for the exquisite silk and the intricate designs they sometimes weave into large blanket-like webs.
Rone whistled for Fang to let the creature go, and the big wolf trotted over next to him to watch the animal scurry off into the thick brush.
“You can come down now, Tray, the beast has been driven away,” Rone said, still laughing.
“Laugh all you want, Rone, but I’m telling you them things are a menace,” Traijen replied as he dropped to the ground and straightened his tunic.
“Yes, we can see how dangerous it was,” Trisha added with a grin.
Traijen spun around and headed back towards the camp in a huff, refusing to dignify their laughter with a response. Rone shook his head, wondering how he had even managed to forget Tray's amusing fear of the harmless creatures.
As they entered the area of their camp, Traijen saw the headless corpse of the Bog Hag and turned to Rone.
“When did this happen?” He asked with a concerned look crossing his face.
“While you were in the forest,” Rone said with a shrug.
“I’m sorry, Rone, Traijen said, dropping his head as the embarrassment of his irrational fear once again came over him.
“It’s alright Tray, Trish here was more than enough for the Hag.”
Thankful for Rone's dismissal of his absence Traijen turned to Trish.
“See, I told you that you would make a fine adventurer,” he said with a smile. She didn’t reply, but the smile on her face said she approved of his remark.
Not wanting to spend the night with a dead body close enough to draw scavengers, the companions packed their gear and headed out once more towards the east.
16
Esmerelda sat quietly as Allister De’Lenard entered the queen's chambers. He did not bother with formalities as he strolled over to the small table by where she sat and poured a glass of brandy. He had been in her employ for decades now, carrying out her dirty work with brutal efficiency. He knew if she summoned him, someone needed to die.
A job he not only excelled at but very much enjoyed. He was proud of the fact most of the great houses considered him the best assassin in Earthera. He wasn’t sure it was true, but he relished the thought of making it so one day.
That’s the whole reason he does this job. It tests his skills like no other would. Every time he is sent to work, it’s a challenge, and that is all he lives for.
After all, what good is being called the world’s greatest anything, if you don’t regularly test that you are?
As he sat down across from the queen, she smiled at him in such a way that he knew his skills were about to be tested.
“So, who is it this time?” He asked, taking a sip from his glass.
“Why, Allister, I’m hurt. Could I not just summon you for a chat?” She asked, faking humility.
“We both know that’s not what this is, so just tell me who dies and let me be on my way,” Allister said as he finished the brandy in his glass.
“See, that’s why I like you, Allister, your eagerness to please.”