Just Before Dawn Page 9

  Ibu’s armor was one of the only things the troll felt full of pride about. He had commissioned it a year after leaving Arguth from a goblin smith near Ratchet. It was modeled after his teacher’s armor except for minor variations Ibu had requested: the helm was painted in the style of a troll mask and the metal had been stained in various shades of violet, blue and green to match his hair. He knew to any onlooker he would appear gaudy, but Ibu felt it a good melding of his troll heritage and the path he chose in life.

  Ibu stopped walking and bent lower to the ground to examine something that caught his eye. The tattered remains of a pink ribbon hung from a thorny bramble a few inches off the ground. They had stopped here, at least for a moment. He was on the right path, but was he going to make it in time? He had no choice but to continue. Ibu grabbed the ribbon and stowed it in his belt pouch. He prayed to the light that he would be able to return it to its rightful owner.

  Ibu clicked his tongue and Sandtall lowered himself so Ibu could jump onto his back. Ibu leapt into the saddle and Sandtall moved forward, the tallstrider’s head bobbing back and forth in an attempt to catch the scent of the raiders or their human cargo. The trail was leading further south where there were a few more hills and far less vegetation. So far Ibu was unsure as to whom it was that did the raiding. No footprints. No scent trails. No tangible evidence as to who or what that spirited away the girl. Only instinct and the vague scent of the girl had been able to lead him this far.

  A lone hill, almost a mountain, rose in the near distance. A plume of smoke rose from its summit, but it was still too distant to be sure of the occupants. Ibu felt his instinct pulling him towards the mountain, and the more he walked the path the more he felt as if he knew where it led. A mountain, by nature, is a great defensive position. If he were to create a defensible position so as to keep his secrets and activities his own, he would do it on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere.

  So lost was he in his thoughts that the centaur caught him unawares.

  The first two arrows glanced of his shoulder, stinging him slightly but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Ibu turned in his saddle while Sandtall reacted to the change with a loud screech. The tallstrider turned allowing Ibu to catch a view of the galloping centaur. There were two of them, both equipped with shortbows and swords lashed to their sides. One of them held firmly to a heavy rope to which was tethered a snarling, hungry looking hyena. Another arrow shot out at Ibu from the lead centaur. Ibu ducked as the shaft went over his head. Ibu pulled his hammer from his back and slid off of Sandtall as the tallstrider ran away. Sandtall was more than capable of defending himself, but Ibu would rather not risk the strider in battle unless necessary.

  Ibu gripped the hammer and felt the familiar strength that came to him whenever he held it. It had been Arguth’s once upon a time, and the intricate designs on the head and haft proclaimed it a paladin’s weapon. Ibu held it in both hands, deflecting another shot as the centaur moved to circle him in. Ibu prayed to the Light and spread his feet out so as to better center weight for the battle. He felt the urge to shout a battle cry and charge the centaur but fought it down. They would come to him, and then they would get a heavy surprise.

  The lead centaur shouted an order in their foul language. Both of them stowed their bows and pulled their swords. The one holding the rope looked at Ibu and, smiling, released the hyena. Ibu steadied his breathing as the snarling hyena sped across the ground to rush him. Ibu stepped one foot back and leaned on it, ready for his strike. The barking beast leapt at Ibu, mouth wide, baring obscenely large canines poised for the kill. Ibu pushed off with his foot and leaned forward, bringing his hammer around in an underhand swing. The hammer connected with the hyena on the lower jaw, snapping its head back accompanied by the sound of breaking bone. Ibu followed through his swing to bring his shoulder into the hyena’s stomach as its momentum carried it forward. Ibu pushed with his body as he connected and the hyena landed on its back a few feet away. Its jaw hung limply and its legs spasmed in its death throes.

  Ibu moved to set himself back into a defensive stance before the two centaur warriors took advantage of the opening. Too late. A sword rung glanced off his right side as one of the warriors galloped past. The blow threw him off balance as the second centaur came from the opposite direction. The second centaur’s sword drew a line up his left side until briefly touching the unprotected flesh of his underarm. Ibu grimaced and shuffled away from his attacker. He needed to regroup before they came back around again. These were experienced fighters; there would be no easy way to defeat them. At least not defensively.

  They had him off balance because of their speed and their opening gambit with the hyena. Ibu now saw that he had considered the fight to be an easy one. A bad mistake to make if he wanted to live very long. Now, for one shot, maybe two, he could take the advantage of the situation. The centaurs believed him off balance and unable to respond to their speed. He had to take that away from them. He leaned forward as if to fall. The lead centaur came back around in a flash. It struck down at the seemingly prone troll for the kill. Ibu shifted his weight and took the blow on his fully armored upper arm. He then reversed his motion and spun his hammer around, striking the still running centaur in the legs.

  The centaur fell in a tumble, throwing up dust as it thrashed on the floor in pain. Ibu dropped to his knees and rolled to the side in anticipation of the second centaur’s strike. His intuition proved correct as his enemy galloped by. The centaur attempted a turn so that it could hurry back for another attack. As it turned Ibu ran up and slammed his hammer into the centaur’s hind flank. Bone cracked and the centaur lost its footing. It fell down as its legs pawed to gain footing, but its back legs didn’t respond.

  Saying a prayer to the Light for the misguided souls of the two centaurs and their beast, Ibu finished the fight with a swing of his hammer.

  “Why should I pray for them?” Ibu asked, the anger still boiling in his blood. Arguth smiled as he shook his head and wrapped the long cut on Ibu’s arm. Ibu winced at the pressure but almost immediately the wound felt better. Arguth handed him a cold cut of beef and motioned towards the troll’s blackened eye. Ibu flushed and placed the meat over his eye and, surprisingly, the throbbing in his head lessened.

  “You should always pray for those that mean you harm,” Arguth said in a gentle tone.

  Ibu sighed in exasperation. “I pray for guidance. I pray for my food. I pray for my teacher. I pray for everyone around me. Why should I waste breath on idiots like those boys when so many more are deserving of my prayers?”

  Arguth scowled and reached over and slapped Ibu across the face. Ibu starred at the dwarf in disbelief. Arguth’s scowl melted away into a smile. “Did you know I was going to do that now?”

  Ibu shook his head no.

  “Of course you didn’t. First, you can’t read my mind so there is no way to tell what I am going to do. Secondly, I’m a friend. No one expects a friend to harm you. But if I can be moved to attack you, and you pray for me daily, how much more should you pray for someone who means you harm? Hmm? It might be that unheard prayer that turns their blade. You understand?”

  Ibu nodded. “I think so. I…I was just angry. They called me a baby-eater and had the blacksmith’s daughter crying with fear. I thought the girl was going to faint, and all I did was wave!”

  “Aye, you had a right to be angry. Those boys are jealous because you are being trained and taught in a rare and beautiful calling. They will be good for nothing but soldiering and perhaps smithing and farming down the road. You, boy, have a much higher calling.” Arguth leaned over and put his hand on Ibu’s shoulder. “I will handle the boys. You get to your prayers, and tomorrow you and I are going to visit them at the healers and give them a little help mending, eh?”

  Ibu flinched at being reminded of what he did to the boys. Arguth just laughed. “No fretting boy! I will explain to their father what happened and that will be that.” Arguth laughed again and slapped his kn
ee, tickled suddenly as he said, “I will say this much; those boys will think twice before thinking they can pick on you again!”

  Ibu smiled at Arguth and felt a little better.

  Ibu dropped the body into the gulley with a sigh. His arm hurt from the wound he had taken but there had yet to be time enough to attempt a healing. The dead had to be taken care of properly, and though Ibu would not take the time to dig a grave or light a pyre, he had to observe the rites. The three dead lay in the gulley as best as Ibu could get them. He knelt and said a brief prayer for their souls, taking a second to thank the Light that he himself had not been grievously wounded. He cut his prayer shorter than he normally would have, thinking about the little girl that could even now be suffering elsewhere.

  Ibu had not asked for the fight with the centaur, but it had distracted him nonetheless. He lifted his arm and felt at the thin wound on his underarm. It stung at the touch and Ibu worried for a moment about poisons and filth. Centaurs were notorious for both. Ibu called Sandtall and the strider replied with a loud screech from beyond a nearby hill. A moment later the bird appeared as it ran towards Ibu as quick as it could. Ibu smiled and waited as Sandtall approached.

  Sandtall’s great feet dug into the ground as he came to a stop, his massive beak reaching out to nuzzle Ibu’s face. Ibu welcomed the greeting and used his wounded arm to hug the neck of his mount while at the same time rummaging in his saddlebags with his free arm. After a moment he found what he had been looking for: a small jar sealed with wax and covered in oil cloth. He opened the jar and smeared its slimy contents on the open wound. He grimaced as the cold salve touched the wound, but knew that there was no time to work a healing or to care for it properly.

  The salve would seal the wound and keep it from getting infected. Ibu would just have to trust his natural healing to do the rest. He moved his arm around as the salve sealed to check if the cut had affected his ability to fight. There was no excess of pain, so Ibu hefted his hammer and climbed onto Sandtall’s back. Something inside him spurred him on, and he turned and looked at the mountain in the distance. The sun was high in the sky, and it would probably be sundown by the time he managed to reach the peak. But there would be no more searching. The Light seemed to speak to his heart, and he knew he would find the girl there.

  Ibu shuddered to think what else he might find atop the mountain. He spoke softly to Sandtall and the strider began his run to the mountain.

  Ibu wiped the blood from his eyes and ran to where the others were fighting. The cultists had attacked without warning and most of the village around the unfinished chapel was caught unaware. Fires burned in and around the village and the stones of the chapel glowed red with heat.

  But the roar and heat from the flames did not bother Ibu in the slightest. It was the sounds of fighting outside and the lessening of the shouts from defenders and villagers that made Ibu worry. Ibu ran outside where two soldiers were fighting a handful of the cultists. Ibu attacked without warning, felling one of the cultists with the sword he had pilfered from his first felled enemy back in the chapel. Ibu was strong and Arguth was a good teacher when it came to fighting, but Ibu had so far won only by luck. His first opponent had stumbled over a fallen stone and this second opponent had been caught on the blind side.

  Luck be damned, Ibu took the opportunity for what it was worth and felt his sword bite flesh as he collided with the cultist. One of the two soldiers swore as Ibu joined the fray. Ibu recognized the voice but ignored the surge of dislike that rose in his throat. These two soldiers had grown with him here at the village and had always tormented him for being different. And now they fought a common enemy alongside Ibu. Ibu turned and saw a cultist lunging at the unguarded back of one of the men. Ibu turned his body and threw his sword. It tumbled end over end through the air before striking the cultist with such intensity that the hooded man was thrown backwards to die on the ground.

  There was no time for thanks from the soldier because more cultists came at them. Ibu plucked the dagger from the slain cultist at his feet and turned to meet them. It would be a losing fight. That Ibu had known from the first glance at the enemy. There were ten cultist and three defenders. Sheer numbers would win where skill could not.

  And then came Arguth.

  The dwarf roared with preternatural fury, amplified by the sheer force of the Light that imbued his very body. Whereas the night around them was dark and lit by the raging fire, Arguth shone with a clean white corona that made Ibu and the two soldiers feel warmed and more vital with each passing second. Arguth’s armor was dented in about a hundred places and one eye was swollen shut but he was not to be stopped. His hammer came down on a cultist and the hooded figure crumpled like a rag doll before the holy rage of the dwarf.

  Ibu shook the momentary shock from his body and roared with as much fury as the dwarf he idolized. He leapt into battle beside the dwarf, scooping up a fallen blade as he went. The two soldiers still stood like rigid statues, unsure of how to follow the dwarf and his troll student into battle. It did not matter in the end as Arguth and Ibu tore through the remaining cultists with righteous fury. Ibu felt no remorse as he cut his enemies down. Instead he felt blossoming warmth in his chest as he fought. He took no joy in the fighting, but knew that in this fight there were no blurred edges. There were no differences about race or position. Here was an evil enemy, and Ibu was fighting to protect those that needed his arm.

  After the remaining cultists had been slain, Ibu and Arguth stood alone on the steps of the ruined chapel. There would be no more building here, so far from the protection of the more civilized areas. The survivors would travel the short distance to the port they had made down the coast and would head towards Stormwind and disperse from there. Ibu looked to Arguth who stood watching the fire burn with tears in his eyes. Ibu also cried. He cried for the loss of life. He cried for the senseless carnage that seemed to invade all of Azeroth. He cried for his home that once again had been taken away from him.

  “The others, they’ll be going now,” Arguth said softly. Ibu nodded. “You’ve proven tougher than an acolyte should be lad,” Arguth said, a smile in his voice. “Tomorrow, after we make sure everyone is off and going to safety we take your training further. Tomorrow you earn the title Paladin, when we go after that putrid bunch that dared to attack a peaceful place of learning and contemplation. The Light will not stand for this. What say you to that lad?”

  Ibu nodded, torn between loss and pride. He had lost his home, after losing so much in his short life. But he had gained the title his mother had dreamed for him. He had gained a mentor that meant the world to him. He had gained a purpose. Could he ask for more?

  The sun was setting when Ibu began his climb. His arm pained him slightly, but not enough for Ibu to give it much notice. Below him Sandtall gave a worried squawk. Ibu turned and gave the bird a smile, trying to convey the need for caution and quiet as much as he could without shouting. Sandtall chirped mournfully and clawed at the ground. The strider snapped up a small lizard and sat down in the dirt to eat. Sandtall turned his head towards Ibu and chirped once more before quieting down as he ate. Ibu didn’t miss the ominous feel of his mounts calls, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Still, he prayed as he climbed, just to be safe.

  It took him an hour to climb up to the point where he could hear the goings on at the camp atop the mountain. He could hear chanting in many voices and the smell of sulfur and, oddly enough, jasmine floated to Ibu on the breeze. He hurried his climb as much as he could. The sky was still light but the sun was gone below the horizon. The mountainside was cast in twilight, making the climb all the harder for the troll. He was proficient in daylight, and even better at night, but twilight seemed to bathe the world in a light that was somewhere in between.

  Because of this Ibu didn’t see that the rock he was reaching for to brace him for the next part of his ascent was sitting loosely upon the rocky side. As Ibu pulled himself upwards his body weight pulled the stone loos
e. Ibu lost his balance and fell forward. He flung his arms out to catch the face of the mountain but could not get a hold on the rough surface. He fell a few feet, hit a rock, and landed in a large piece of scrub that anchored awkwardly to an almost vertical plane on the mountain side. Ibu looked around as best he could without upsetting his position and plummeting further.

  A rustling sound caught his attention and Ibu tried to turn to see where it came from. A goblin in a long black robed hurried up the slope unbelievably fast. Ibu was astonished to see it round the bend below him and rush past him, amazed that the goblin could keep its footing at such a steep incline. Then Ibu noticed the odd way the shadows lay on the ground and realized that a fantastically concealed slope made for a path up the mountain, but the only way to find it would be to look down from above. Unless one already knew where to look to find it. Amazing.

  Ibu waited until he was sure there was no one else coming up the path and shifted his position in the bush that had saved him a few broken bones. He almost fell again but the wiry plant stayed anchored and Ibu managed to get his feet below him and drop the few remaining feet to the path. Solid ground firmly below him once more he started up the path, hammer in hand.

  Ibu walked as silently as he could, but the urging of the Light made him hurry. Something very bad was happening, or about to happen, and Ibu had to stop it. He heard voices around the next turn and slowed his pace. The language was unfamiliar to him, but the darkness that touched the words was not. How often had Ibu hunted down these groups only to find them in another part of the land, just as vital and just as vile? Why did the peoples of Azeroth continue to follow the dark paths that led to demons and destruction?