Pin Down

few hours later she was on her cot awake. On the other side of the tent Galyew was snoring loudly, his arms splayed out like a stricken man. A few thoughts had stolen through her mind as she lay there. One was that her supposed friend and protector was a fire mage, the other was that Beken appeared to be a merchant of used goods. She rolled over and looked at Galyew, barely an outline in the diffused moonlight.

She slid out of the blankets and crawled towards him. He had left his outer clothes in a messy pile under his cot. She slowly sorted through them until she felt the cool leather of his belt. There were the pouches. She opened them one by one. The third one revealed something small and hard. She held it up and the moon lit it like a drop of blood. The one who had sold the pouch had kept the arrowhead. A murderer and a thief.

“Think you’re clever?” Galyew muttered. She was so surprised that she stumbled backwards awkwardly. The mage lit the tent with a blood red flame. “Looking through my things? Find something?”

"No". She replied, watching as the mage sat up and glowered at her.

"Give it back and I won't hurt you."

"It belonged to Akanu."

"What use would she have for it now?"

"You took it off of her."

"Yes I did." Galyew frowned at her tear streaked face. "Will you weep forever for them or just learn that this is the way of things? They are dead. Now give it back to me."

She wavered for a moment, caught between her nature and the practicality of giving up. The girl who had left ascalon just three days ago would have said no, would have dared anyone to hurt her. The battered person she was now shrugged and she gave the arrowhead back. Galyew snatched it and shoved it into a pocket of the inner robe he was sleeping in. As she leaned forward the mage took her by the collar and shook her sharply.

"Keep your hands out of my things! If anything of mine goes missing I will give you over to Beken. I think he would like that." Galyew laughed at the idea. "Listen...I am taking you to Kryta as a favor. Jael never said you had to be coddled on the way...or healthy when you got there."

"Yes." She didn't struggle in his grasp; the bruises from Beken's beating were still fresh and she ached all over. Galyew released her with a shrug and she slumped to the floor shaking with sadness.

"Go to sleep and stop crying. Miserable little weakling!" 

She slinked back into her bed and wrapped the blankets over herself so that Galyew could not hear her crying. In the darkness of the icy night she heard the distant howls of a lone wolf. She calmed herself to listen to the song of loneliness; she understood him well. They were both alone. Their journey had taken the wolf away from his comfortable territory and into another pack's domain; the wolf was as unwelcome in the wilderness as she was in the camp. Yet this common feeling dried her tears and she found herself drawing some comfort, for the wolf remained nearby and would not stop being her friend, even when all others died or turned into enemies.

She woke when Galyew tore the blankets off of her; the icy temperature had Dale on her feet immediately. The mage chuckled in amusement as she scrambled to her feet.

"Get your armor on. I got you these...we are moving out today." The mage dropped a fur lined cloak and thick hide gloves on the cot along with a few other packages. Dale sat down and looked into a few of the bag and found rations, a whet stone and a tinderbox. There was also a comb and a sliver of rather nasty looking soap. 

"Thank you."

"I will get you a bow, I guess." Galyew shrugged. "Try to cheer up. My intention is really not to hurt you...just be more careful and less stupid."

"Because I am worth money alive."

She knew she should not have said it as the words left her lips. She shouldn't know about it, but the night before she had left home she'd heard them talking. Jael had written a letter to Kouric requesting his help in training her. Jael and Galyew had gone outside to talk, and while the ink dried on the table she had come down from the loft where she was supposed to be sleeping. Four thousand coins to the carrier if they brought her safely to Lion's Arch and delivered the message to Kouric. It had set her wondering if Kouric was wealthy or noble perhaps. She'd never seen more than fifty coins at any one time.

"Yes. Well, hopefully this Kouric person is good for it." Galyew gave her a sharp glance. "He is, isn't he?"

"I don't know him."

"Never met him?"

"No." She shook her head. "Jael just told me Kouric was his first student..and he loved the irony that I am the last one..."

"Jael would." The mage muttered as he left the tent on another errand. Dale took the private moment to shrug out of her dirty clothes and go through the bag of laundry for something fresh. Then she pulled on the shabby armor and boots. Jael had made most of the armor from what she had brought back from hunting.

Touching the thick ugly charr leather she remembered how for two years she had fed them both; long dusty days of tracking devourers and avoiding charr on the north wastes, creating snares and pitfalls for the more persistent charr. She always wondered why they had never moved closer to Ascalon city, but Jael's stone cottage on its cliff top perch had been untouched by the searing. The narrow canyon cleft leading to its door was easily trapped and defended from any enemies or wandering predators.

Yet Jael was often sick, and the days when he would come with her on the hunt or show her new things had ended in the summer when he could no longer walk. Jael had told her he could not bear to have her as a nurse and that she should have a better teacher. Thinking of her master now her heart ached for his voice and company. She wanted to hear one of his stories near the stone hearth. She wanted to learn and this time she would listen. There was dust on the hearth. Possibly Charr were denned in the cottage's shelter now just as she had found them sleeping among the ruins of Rin.

On the last day at home she had helped her master clean up the cottage and pack away his few belongings into a chest. Down below in the canyon, a monk and two litter bearers from Serenity Temple had waited for them; Jael was going to live his last days at the temple. When he left, Dale had not accompanied him, but had remained to bury the chest under the beaten dirt floor of the house. When she was done she had walked two days to Ascalon city to join Calou, Akanu and Galyew on the journey to Kryta.

She had to trust that Jael was being taken care of, that his days were full of the peace that he needed. Dale said a quick few words to Melandru as she finished lacing the tunic, threw the cloak over her shoulders and pulled on the pack. 'Great mother Melandru be with me and my master. Let the fear fall from my heart.'

Outside the encampment was a whirl of activity. She saw the flicker of the black cloaked guild members as they directed the drovers and porters to finish loading the eight huge dolyak wagons. Nearby some men were nailing a last few crates shut while another crew was taking down the tents. She wandered off to the side and wated for Galyew. She saw Beken darting back and forth through the camp and was careful to keep her head hooded and her head down, not wanting to be seen. She stood for a few moments watching and realised that indeed, no one was watching her at all.

She did let the fear fall away. She was free and nothing anyone could do to her could possibly be worse than what had happened. Dale observed for a few moments then strode into the moiling hustle of the caravan. She had marked an unattended bow and quiver near one of the tents. She picked it up and tried the string, felt how the polished wood fit in her hands with a perfect weight. She lifted the quiver and walked purposefully across the camp. No one looked up.

She continued walking right into Yak's Bend and out of its nominally gaurded gate. No one seemed to see her as she first walked and then ran once she was out of sight of the stockade walls. She could sense directions in her bones. She knew the way was south. She had but to go south and all would be well she decided. She ran on, glad to feel the cold on her face and the wind whip at her cloak. The wolf joined her under the shade of the spruce trees. They ran together and she voiced a few words, gave them both speed on the wind. Try to find us she thought, just try to.

After two days of travel she followed a track into a small encampment at Borlis pass. The jubilance of her first day was tempered by two nights sleeping on open mountain slopes and one full day of near blizzard conditions. If not for the wolf she would not have found this tiny spec of civilization. As she approached the swinging lanterns in the darkness, the wolf parted from her side and fled to the woods. She felt his distrust of strange humans. She continued on, hoping that among the gathering of shacks and tents that there was somewhere she could rest in warmth and perhaps get a hot meal. She ducked among the knots of people and realised that this place was little mroe than a way station, a place where refugees were resting on their way to Kryta. To hear them speak of Kryta gave her the hope that she was headed the right way.

She exchanged one of her last coins for a mug of tea, a peice of roasted goat and some beans. She ate and then decided to ask around for shelter. Most people looked at her and shook their heads. At long last a small family took a coin from her and she was invited to huddle inside a shack with them. They seemed somehow afraid of her with the longbow slung on her shoulder and a long dagger at her side. Dale thought perhaps she resembled a bandit or some unsavory character. It was at least warm and allowed her the chance to relax. She woke feeling refreshed and ready to move on. She had just finished eating a breakfast of boiled barley when she heard a commotion run through the shanty.

"I'm looking for a young woman. A bit less tall than you, madam. She'll have a fur cloak and wearing armor like a ranger."

She did not recognise the voice, but Dale knew the description for herself. She stood still, glad that the little family had left her alone in the shack to move on down the pass along with some mercenaries. Dale had intended to heat some water and get cleaned up a little, but realised she may have made a mistake by tarrying. Galyew would want his money of course.

"Anyone seen her? Curly tawny hair...she's lost and needs my help."
She peered through a loose board of the shack and saw a tall man wearing the black sword and briar cloak of Beken's guild. He was lithe but sturdy looking and he bore a bow as tall as himself. A ranger to hunt her down. She did not want to imagine what kind of beating awaited her back at the caravan.

"Yeah, I seen her. She was staying with the Fieldfares...down at the end there near the slush puddle."

Dale cursed the nosey refugee. Why couldn't people just mind their own business? Dale kicked a hole through the rotten wattle of the opposite wall, ducked through and pulled her belongings behind her. The place was surrounded by trees and it should be easy enough to flee unremarked. She slung on the pack, gripped her bow and sprang away. She heard a boy shout and a lean black dog began to bark excitedly.

"Hey there she is!" The boy ran after her and then the dog caught up, nabbed her cloak and nearly dragged her down. She gave a groan of annoyance and turned to kick the dog, but it dodged away and bowed down, still barking loudly. If she was going to vanish it was not going to happen like this. Already she saw her hunter rounding the shack. She heard him shout and then made an instant connection between him and the dog. The dog was his companion. The animal sprang forward still dancing and barking, blocking her progress without hurting her.

"Dale, just give up and come with me! Galyew told me you'd run...but I don't want to hurt you."

The dog spiraled around her, nipping and wiggling in a display of anxious aggression balanced with play. It reflected its masters indecision to use diplomacy or violence to get his way. She decided the dog was not going to attack and ran forward. The dog barked and darted after her. She heard the ranger curse. There was a reverberating shout and suddenly the dog was like a streak upon the wind itself, it toppled her to the ground and clamped its jaws on to her ankle. She could hear the man coming now. She rose and kicked the dog hard enough that it released her with a yelp.

She let the speed into her legs and again tried to summon what little powers she had to outrun her adversary. Then a pain like fire struck her right calf. An arrow sliced through tendons and muscle. She cried out and fell, then rose and limped. The dog gripped her arm and dragged her easily to her knees. She was in such pain that she let the dog keep her there. The dog stood absolutely still, its jaws firmly but not painfully attached to her arm.

"Good job Drill." The man came close to where she lay in the snow panting and miserable. "You'd do best not to turn your back on me next time, young lady."

The dog released her arm and sat down on the snow as its master knelt next to her. She winced as he made a motion towards her. When he saw her fear he stopped.

"I won't hurt you if you promise to not try and get away. I want to get the arrow out."

"Don't make me go back."

"I follow orders and you'd not survive out here alone anyways." He reached around and closed his hand around the arrow. She wimpered as he began to pull it and then shrieked when he roughly jerked it out of the wound. She nearly fainted and ended up leaning and gasping against him. He had lied about not hurting her. "Ok, you have some unguent on you? It should heal up alright."

"No."

The man gave her a dark glance as he rifled through his pack and handed her a small stoneware jar. "The last I have. You need to make your own...didn't anyone show you?"

She opened the jar and saw a foul black substance inside the consistency of molasses. She was about to raise it to her lips when the man stopped her with a disparaging laugh.

"Its an ointment...drink it and I imagine you'll be quite sick, there's some pretty nasty stuff in there. Here." He took the jar and put a small amount on his fingers. He dabbed it on her forehead and she felt it fizz and evaporate away. Along with it went a little of the pain and then she felt the wounds on her leg close rapidly. The energy raced through her flesh for a few more seconds and then vanished like a popping bubble. She found she was smiling at the pleasant sensation. The man corked the jar and put it back in his pack.

"You really are...inexperienced." He said as he pulled Dale to her feet. "I am Gared Temisko and this is Drill. We are going back to the caravan and you are going to obey me...or we can repeat this whole sad show again. I'd rather not have to shoot you again."

They walked south together, through the throngs of mercenaries and refugees that choked the passes from Ascalon to Kryta. She knew people were starving in her home country and that the king and prince were at odds. So many had come into the mountains in the winter when it was inadvisable. Along the paths she saw markers where some had died. The living paid the pair of them little heed and most moved to avoid the big black dog at Gared's side.

They moved rapidly for most of day. Gared found a hidden cleft in a wall that led up into a small cottage. Dale was entranced; it reminded her of home, even the stonework reminded her of the old cottage, and when she opened a shuttered window she found it overlooked a cliff to a view of the vast mountainous forest.

"Close the window and get a fire started. That is, if you know how to start a fire."

"I do."

"Thank the spirits then!" Gared commanded his dog to lay at the door almost pointedly; she'd have to get through Drill to leave. The ranger watched her start a fire and coax it to life with the store of kindling and fuel that someone had left behind. She found a pot and gathered snow off the window sill to melt for water. There was a store of potatoes under an old bench and some other root vegetables. It was relaxing to peel and chop the vegetables while Gared lit a little oil lamp and made himself a bed in one of the stoney niches. She added some dried meat from her pack and let everything stew.

"Well somebody trained you to do chores at least." Gared glanced at his dog. "So where is your wolf?"

She nearly dropped the spoon she was using the stir the stew. For the last half hour she had been sensing the wolf wandering near the cottage. She could feel his hostility at the very notion of a dog. The wolf made it clear that he ate dogs on occasion when travelers were foolish enough to let them wander. She looked over her shoulder and saw the dog was bristling near the door.

"He followed me but he is afraid of you...he wants to eat the dog." She said truthfully, guessing that the dog had probably communicated already about it to his master.

"You think he will stay away?"

"Yes."

"Good because I don't know if Drill will control himself very well...he is not an ordinary dog and I doubt a wolf is his equal."

"I believe it." Mentally she reached out towards the wolf and told him to stay away, that it was dangerous. She felt him retreat and felt her own soul shrinking away in sadness. There really was no way she could escape the situation. Gared could find her wherever she went, and if he couldn't, then surely the dog knew her scent by now.

"Do you know the oath?" She asked.

"Melandru's oath? Yes, of course."

"There is a part of it '...to unfetter the innocent and keep free the wild..'. I think you should consider it."

"You consider yourself innocent and wild? You stole one of my bows for one thing. For another, and I may have said this before, you are one small inexperienced person alone in the Shiverpeaks. You are lucky nothing killed you on the way to Borlis. You hardly qualify as innocent or wild."

"That's your bow?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

****

They moved on for another two days over narrow tracks and though silent icy forests. They camped once in the forest, which was an eerie experience since ice imps passed nearby and they had to hide shivering under a fallen log for half the night. Gared talked to her nearly constantly, and she realized, mainly to tell her how to live in the snow and how to survive in this place so different from her home. He also told her the ingredients for troll unguent and had her recite the formula several times until it was committed to memory.

"We'll make some back at the camp. Of course we'll need to kill a troll first."

"Why do you bother trying to help me?"

"Because you are so entirely clueless about the dangers out here. This is despite falling in with the nest of bandits that constitute my guild."

"You can still let me go."

Gared cleared his throat and the black dog came dancing happily to his side like a puppy, capering and dancing. The ranger whispered a few words and the dog sprang away down the narrow trail ahead of them.

"Alas, though you are wild and innocent I promised to bring you back." His voice had a turn of mockery in it. She frowned but had little time to consider a retort since something was roaring and growling in the mists. Dale at first saw the form of the dog whirling and dodging, silent as it concentrated on something bulky, tall and dangerous. Then she saw a tall green-black figure lumbering after the animal. She saw the dull glow of its eyes as it gave another roar and tried to strike the swift dog. Now he was close, Drill began to bark in excitement, causing the troll to growl in irritation and make a few more ill-aimed swipes.

"Drill will keep him in bowshot for us. Let's see you use my bow..."

She had already brought an arrow to the string in reaction to the sight of the jagged skinned monster. She concentrated a moment and moved slightly to take advantage of the light breeze on the slope. She noticed Gared applying something oily to his arrows. Then he fired so rapidly that she felt a dullard with her slower considered shots. She could feel him watching her as she took aim and fired each arrow in turn. In a few seconds the troll was down and Drill was nipping with excited barks at one of its huge feet.

"Drill, quiet."

The dog looked at Gared and gave a few more excited and decidedly sassy barks before burrowing its muzzle into the snow and eating it then rolling and thrashing in the trench he had made. Dale found herself grinning at the animal's behavior.

"How did I get the noisiest dog in Ascalon?" Gared said with a sigh. "Every troll in ten leagues has heard us by now."

"You are from Ascalon?"

"No...I'm from some dump in Maguuma...I found Drill as a pup in Ascalon. Kids were being rough on the little tike, so I rescued him. So instead of something exotic like a spider or a lizard or something...I have a stray dog."  Gared knelt over the corpse and cut into one of the thick corded arms. He let its blood ooze into an empty waterskin, sealed it and gave it to her. "Compliments of the troll."

"Eeew." She took the skin almost unwillingly and felt just a little queasy at its warm bulk in her hands. She slung the skin on her pack as an unpleasant musky odor began to rise from it.

"There is a reason not to drink it." Gared laughed cheerfully. "Come on, we had best be moving before the trolls figure out what the barking was about."

They ran together for an hour, using a goat track that provided them with a view of the surrounding landscape. From there it was easy to see and avoid groups of trolls. She was amazed at their numbers. Dale knew she would not have known better had she passed through here alone. She would likely have been in a troll's stomach by now. They rested for an hour and pressed on at a fast pace once more.

There was little leeway for talk, only the steady crunch of their feet on the path and the dog running ahead and occasionally barking at something. Then they came down a few switchbacks and then the mists dissolved a little over a flat area far below. She saw the eight wagons of the caravan. In the gathering dusk she saw people bustling to set up the camp, fires lifted smoke to the sky.

They descended the mountain side at a run. Dale thought with trepidation about what was likely to greet her at the camp. Galyew would not be pleased. Gared did not bring her immediately to Galyew. They went first to a cookfire, warmed themselves and ate.

She squatted by the fire next to him, watched the dog playing with a couple of mercenaries; the dog was catching snowballs which burst in its jaws. Compared to the dog, her wolf was so dour and composed...and quiet. Drill zig zagged over the snow, barking happily the entire time. Dale noted to herself that Gared seemed distracted, perhaps now that both Drill and Gared were divided and not paying attention.... She stood up and the ranger abruptly grabbed her wrist and made her sit down.

"Finish your meal."

"I'm done."

"Alright, let's go see Galyew then."

Gared still gripped her arm as they walked away from the fire. Near the edge of the camp was a tent. She could hear Galyew talking to someone and as they approached the flap opened and a man left as they entered. She entered unwillingly with Gared dragging her into the dimly lit confines of the tent. The mage nodded in recognition.

"Good, thank you Gared."

"She wasn't much trouble."

"That's surprising." Galyew glanced at him and then back to Dale. "Tie her for me? I don't want her slipping out in the night."

"I hardly think that is necessary."

"Then tie her because I think she needs the discipline of not doing what she wants."

Gared muttered darkly, but set down his bag and retrieved a long length of oily cord. He met her eyes as she put her hands before her obediently. He was gentle enough winding the cord in place but the knots were firm.

"Now you can go."

She saw the irritation on Gared's face as he left. As soon as the crunch of the ranger's boots on the ice faded, Galyew came to her side. He touched her face with a gentleness that did not match the expression on his face. Her heart began to pound as he whispered something that hissed and whirred in her mind. She closed her eyes in a confusion of magenta, blackness within and without. Dim figures laced her vision for a moment; claws of shadow flashed suddenly bright, shredding at her consciousness.

There was nothing real to defend against. She screamed and thrashed, rose and collided blindly with the side of the tent. Galyew said something sharp and cruel; suddenly she felt all energy torn from her flesh and she fell.

She woke in the back of the dolyak's feed wagon, curled up in the sweet scent of hay. The mid morning sun was glaring down through a cold clear sky. She turned her face away reflexively and wriggled into the warmth of the hay, moaning as the ringing agony of her skull forced itself to the forefront of awareness. She managed to dizzily pull herself to the side of the wagon to lean against the relative stability of the boards. Her guts protested at the constant rocking motion and she threw up on herself.

Dale found she did not care much. She cursed her own stupidity for thinking she could go alone. She felt that she wanted to sleep, but the rough road, grinding of wheels and shouts of the drovers contrived to keep her awake.

She was in a state of foggy awareness when the wagon finally stopped and someone roughly dragged her out of the hay. She dropped on the ground and watched bemusedly as the drover forked hay out of the wagon. Dale shifted a little as the cold of the ground seeped through her clothing. The man moved the hay stack across the snow to feed the gathered Dolyaks. Dully she counted eight dolyaks and started counting their legs...too many legs to concentrate on. Someone stood over her and she started up at two legs and four bandy black legs. She recognized Gared's face as squatted down beside her. Drill licked her face.

"Dale?"

She heard him through a fading shroud of awareness. She felt him pick her up and cradle her in his arms. Gared carried her to the edge of a fire and rubbed her arms. He untied her hands and chafed feeling into her fingers. Dale could clearly hear him cursing.

"Dammit Dale, come back to me. Come on!" He tapped her cheeks.

"Gods I will kill him for doing this to you...just a girl...and I tied you for him. The bastard...."

The warmth of the fire helped, as did a hot cup of tea. Gared covered her in blankets and continued to rub her arms until finally she groaned and moved away from him. He gave her a light hug and praised her.

"I am going to make unguent...you watch Dale...do you remember the formula?"

She recited it for him and found that remembering helped the pain in her skull. He stroked her arm and then attended to the fire for a few minutes. She turned her head a to watch him fill a small pan with troll's blood followed by a bright green lichen, lard, the crumbled leaves of several plants and a piece of waxy honeycomb. He stirred it for awhile. She felt its odor sting her nostrils as it began to boil and froth into the fire. Dale sneezed.

"Gah, it always stinks like the hind end of a mergoyle." Gared said with something of his usual cheerfulness. "It will take an hour to get nice and thick."

"Thank you." She said softly.

"Thank me for what? Bringing you back so that coward could nearly kill you?"

Gared pulled her on to his lap and combed the bloody clots out of her hair where her ears had bled. He warmed some water and cleaned off her face, rinsed away the vomit. All the while he talked to her about the mountains in his clear deep voice, inviting her to ask questions and giving her the lore whether she answered or not. He talked to her in a low voice about helpful spirits and how to find food quickly. She understood he was trying to tell her how to survive alone on the journey south. He was going to heal her and let her go.

"Your wolf keep you pretty safe?"

"He seems to know when bad things are coming."

"Good." Gared nodded.

After the unguent was applied a few times she felt much better. The next day she walked side by side with Gared. She carried his bow and he never said another word about it. He continued to discuss the mountains with her until she began to be able to visualize the landmarks he talked about. They passed a pyramid of rough stones as they walked and she knew it was Saint Telaire's shrine from his descriptions. They were halfway to Beacon's Perch by that reckoning. She checked these facts with Gared and he nodded.

"Yes."

"So when am I going to leave?"

"When we get to Beacon's Perch it will be very busy. If I were you I would find someone who needs a mercenary and join them, go south with them."

"I need to get the letter from Galyew before I go."

"Do you have any idea where he keeps it?"

"No, haven't seen it since I left home."

"Probably down his shirt or something grotesque like that." Gared looked thoughtful for a moment.

They were so deep in conversation that otherwise they may have noticed that the caravan had blundered into new snow that was soft and deep. Almost at once the dolyaks set up a cacaphony of low complaints as the great wheels locked up in the snow and ice. At once the caravan was a crawling hive of activity as guild members, mercenaries and drovers found shovels or used shields to dig into the drifts.

Dale and Gared sprang in to help but the problem was not insignificant. The drovers unhitched the dolyaks and put them into teams four strong to haul the wagons out of the quagmire. Dale and Gared trotted ahead through the deep snow and found that it went on for a full quarter mile.

"I'll tell them to lead the dolyak through here to flatten the snow down." Gared began to turn away when Dale made a small sound of alarm. He flipped around and saw dark figures moving along the canyon's edge towards them. There were small figures and huge figures. She could hear the clinking of chain.

"What are they?"

"Stone Summit." Gared unshouldered his bow, still watching the column as it snaked along the rimtop. "I see four dolyak riders, five archers, four warriors, two minion masters and half dozen herders."

"That sounds like a lot...are they dangerous?"

Gared made a long suffering noise that she had heard in response to some of her other questions. The ranger retreated towards the caravan and then ran as it became apparent that no one else had noticed the impending battle. Gared shouted and finally convinced some of the other guild members to look up from their work. The work of freeing the carts shortly changed to making the carts into perches and barracades to defend. The drovers unhitched the dolyak and led them away from the impending battle; the large nervous animals were nearly uncontrollable as the dwarves' chained beasts trumpeted their thirst for battle.

"Get up on one of the wagons and stay there. Kill the minion masters and if you can reach them, kill the ones riding the dolyaks."

"Gared?" She paused and then continued when he did not respond. "What is a minion master?"

"If you see a dwarf that is not wearing two inch sheets of metal as armor...kill him."

"Ok."

She scrambled up on some crates where the camp's cook and quarter master were huddling in the shelter of some wool bales. She moved the crates around to make a safe nest for herself, set out arrows and watched as the dwarves slowed their advance. They weren't just dumb monsters like the trolls. This was a raiding party.

She counted six warriors with axes now, walking ahead of the huge bipedal herders. She could not describe them; massive stone hided beasts with ridiculously small heads. They were shackled and chained and their riders wielded spiked crops to nominally control them. Just behind the beasts the archers almost swaggered, and well behind them were the dolyak riders and a few other small figures that she decided must be the spell casters Gared had hinted at.

Then, as if on a silent cue the warriors sprang forward, followed by the massive beasts that had a fantastic turn of speed for their size. Below her she saw Beken and his mercenaries brace behind their shields. The dwarven warriors clashed against them like a steel wave. Shields shattered and blades flickered as dwarven forgework met the lighter things made by men.

She saw two of the mercenaries go down almost immediately. Dale turned back to her own assigned duty and saw a small figure darting forward towards the fray. She fired down on him and felt some pride as the dwarf fled from the unexpected attack. As he ran she put every ounce of her strength into the final shot and brought it down. Yet there were plenty more enemies and the herders had arrived among the wagons. The earth trembled and she was tossed down against a crate. She tried to stand up but another thunderous stomp forced her down.

She heard the dwarven warriors roar their appreciation and saw them push past her redoubt. Then she heard the familiar toll of Galyew's voice in full rage; fires sprang up among the herders. The dwarven warriors shouted harsh words that she imagined were curses. Chunks of fiery rock pelted the raiding party, breaking up their charge and forcing them back and away from her wagon.

However no more of the dwarves had died, and she realized this was because of the dwarves' formidable line of dolyak riders. She recognized now the blue flickers and flashes of holy magic as the warriors fled towards them. Soon anything the fire magic had done would be gone and they would start all over again.

Against the wishes of Gared she climbed down on the far side of the wagon as the dwarven warriors and herders started a new assault. She crept out to a rock that jutted out of the snow and again tested her range. It was enough to strike the nearest of the dolyak. She put her best effort into it but found that the other healers shielded it...her arrows had no effect. Sighing with annoyance she picked a spell caster who was on foot and began pelting him. She focused a little too hard on him and did not see the stone summit archers swivel their heads to notice the imposter.

A barbed arrow sliced the length of her leather clad arm, zipping it open neatly as if it were a tanner's knife. She ducked completely behind the rocks and watched helplessly as her intended victim ran out of range. Meanwhile she saw the five archers ambling down the slope towards her to get a better angle. If she didn't move now, she'd be pinned down and killed. Dale turned and ran with melandru's blessing at her back; arrows splintered against the charm and she was again back to the relative safety of the wagons.

Yet on the ground it was a more frightening place than up on the wagons. The herders thundered and the dwarven warriors in their near impenetrable armor howled and shouted in their terrible language. There were monstrous fleshy things that dripped gore and blood, constructed of warped bone and muscle. She had no idea what they were but she ran from the first one she saw, and then discovered that she could cut them down with her little fighting knife if they got too close. She moved towards where she could hear the remaining people fighting. She dodged through a storm of fire past the body of a fallen herder.

Abruptly one of the bony things wrenched itself from a woman's corpse mere feet from her. Dale gasped in horror and retreated behind a wheel when it shot something unspeakable at her. She scrambled away at a crawl, floundering on the ice as she sensed something following her. A dwarf in long dark robes pursued her, his head encased in a jeering helmet. A feeling of exhaustion gripped her followed by a feverish wash of pain; she could no longer run.

She struggled against the hexes but the dwarf came closer to her.  He put a clammy hand on her and she withdrew in pain from his viper sharp touch. Not knowing what else to do, she slashed at him with her dagger and kicked. She managed to slice his arm and then watched in horror as the wound healed up with a whisper of blackish smoke. The dwarf raised his staff to gather a killing spell, but then he fell forward at her feet, back feathered with arrows that lit his robes afire.

"Dale come with me to the dolyaks, we need their priests down."
She limped towards him with relief, a manic smile on her lips, just glad to be alive. Like a cloud lifting she felt the hexes drain away. She sped after Gared, muttering thankful words to Melandru as she followed him from hiding place to hiding place until they found a cluster of spruce up slope of the dolyaks.

"We'll see if we can get one down quickly. If the archers come this way we'll flee further into the trees and then double around for another one. Just stay with me." With those words they stood up and concentrated on the nearest priest. The dolyak slowly began to move away but at long last a well aimed shaft from Gared's bow struck the rider's neck and he plummeted to the earth in a wash of blood.

At this point they both saw the archers coming in defense of their backline. Gared sprang away and Dale followed him closely. For a minute they waited and then climbed around the side of the caldera, then behind and to the opposite side of where they had killed the first priest. The archers were still watching the place where they had disappeared.

"Now!" Gared raised his bow and she followed his lead, moving as fast as she could to overwhelm the priests' healing.  The three dolyak riders were aware of them now, however, and they healed their brother. Not only that but she noticed her arrows harmlessly skittering over an aura of pale light. The dwarven archers had been alerted as well and were running to get within bowshot. Gared lowered his bow and ran back towards the camp. She wondered what the plan was now as arrows hummed and whistled through the snow beside them.

They sheltered behind the wagon for a moment, huffing with exertion. She could hear the main of the battle going on behind them, heard Galyew casting and Beken bellowing orders to the remainders of his guild mates. Things were not going well. She realised they were getting worse as she saw the archers enter the area, searching for them. Dale tapped Gared's shoulder and he nodded.

"We'll pick off the one that is about to come around the corner." He whispered. "We need to get rid of them."

The dwarf stepped out and the pair of them let fly with the desperation of cornered animals. He died with a forlorn grunt but this only seemed to make the other three hurry to the attack.

"The one with the red pants!" Gared snapped. They shot in perfect unison, but the dwarves also fired. She felt something shear through her armor and grate against her ribs. Dale heard Gared hiss in pain, but they continued the fight side by side. Another dwarf went down, but the remaining two were unphased. Dale remained steady as another arrow struck her in the shoulder. She had been taught to remain focused and ignore pain; it would pass as all things passed.

Another dwarf died and the last one turned to flee his stoic opponents. Dale shot him in the spine and he was down.
She stumbled a little and saw Gared sitting in the snow tugging arrows out of his armor. There seemed an inordinate amount of blood and removing the arrows seemed only to create a larger jagged wound.

Caught in the heat of battle, Dale managed to bear ripping the shafts out of her own flesh without a sound. She dully reached for the little jar of unguent that Gared had made for her, opened it and dabbed it over the wounds. It stung horribly for a moment and then tingled. The bleeding finally stopped and her flesh was whole. Gared had done the same and was again on his feet.

"Did good Dale." Gared said simply as he trotted from cover. Dale followed him with a flush of pride on her cheeks. Again they ran upslope behind the dolyaks. This time they were unguarded. Gared directed her to distract two of the dolyaks while he tried to kill one of them. She felt rather futile since the priests healed each other continuously.

One of the mounted dwarves put a horn to his lips and sounded an alarm that echoed across the valley. She shot the horn out of his hands, but she soon saw two of the herders come rushing out of the camp to the defense of their healers. Gared waved her away and then leapt away and ran. She broke in the opposite direction and zipped over the snow with unnatural speed. She paused on the rim top to observe what had happened; the two herders remained with the dolyak and both of them were watching the exact location where Gared had disappeared into trees that abutted a high cliff. She feared for him since there was nowhere he could go. She was sure the dwarves knew it as well.

Far below smoke was rising from the wagons; the remaining dwarven warriors were setting fire to the wagons and she could see a ragged line of people fleeing up the other side of the caldera. They had abandoned the caravan in favor of their lives. She squatted behind a hummock of snow and watched as the dwarven warriors reconvened with the dolyak and herders.

There were fewer of them, but as she watched the dolyak riders lavish healing energy on the warriors, she feared they were preparing for a renewed attack. She scanned the trees for a sign of Gared, but he must be staying absolutely still. She gritted her teeth as the four warriors stalked towards the grove of spruce. Even if Gared could kill one, she doubted he would escape the others. She squirmed with indecision, torn between wanting to help and knowing it was certain death.

Something dark was moving on the slope below. She recognized Drill trotting across the snow, his tail held high as he approached just out of striking distance of the dwarves. Dale wondered at this; she had not seen the dog for the entire battle. The animal pranced for a moment nervously, and then bowed his head and let out a stream of barks. One of the warriors threw a dagger at it and missed the darting animal.

Soon the dwarves were focusing on this nuisance, for his barks became louder and more insistent and his feints braver and braver as he nipped and pulled feet, hooves and cloaks. The dolyaks groaned in irritation and began to mill restlessly, forcing the warriors and herders to move or be crushed. She saw Gared emerge from the trees and slink across the open ground towards the burning wagons. Dale took this chance to dash out of cover. She saw Drill weave back and forth in front of a warrior. The daring dog darted in and nipped the dwarf's shield, drawing a harsh sound of contempt.

Her back was to the dwarves when she heard a wrenching yelp from Drill. The earth concussed with a stomp from one of the herders. She saw blood spatter the slope as Drill leapt away too late from the arc of an axe. The big dog fled, running gamely upon three legs. Gared lurched and came to a halt at her side. She heard him call to his companion weakly.

Though the dog was running it was pure loyalty that drove him on. Dale felt her throat dry at the sight of the mangled bone and flesh that was the dog's entire left side and still Drill ran swiftly beyond all natural endurance. Drill's great body trembled as he approached his master. Helplessly, Gared reached out to touch the blood flecked muzzle and stroke the glossy fur of Drill's neck.

"Good work Drill."

With a sigh of contentment Drill wagged his tail, opened his mouth with an almost laughing expression and slumped to the ground. It was Dale who had to grab Gared's arm and drag him away; the dwarves were charging down the mountainside. He wouldn't run at first and she shouted at him frantically until he followed, his expression dull and defeated.