The Portal
(Conclusion)
The Gwydion known as Autumnsbane turned swiftly in his saddle, swinging the flaming, blue broadsword, Lucidia. The ice-hot blade cleft the Fir-bholg through the skull, causing the dying creature to fall to the earth along with the useless club it had raised in hopes of sweeping Hemlock from his mount.
Clutching the reins in his shield arm, he maneuvered his steed, Summer, to his left in time to see Brekke take down another with her favored axe, Speaker. The troll baroness had abandoned her steed shortly after entering the forest. The size of her war beast, Thunder, and her own height, made fighting from horseback in the dense wood more than impractical. Others had made similar decisions, and even now, Hemlock could see Magnus in the distance, fighting with his back to his well-trained warhorse. Some had been stricken from their steeds, while still others had simply left them to run where they would. Then there were those like Baroness Kaysa and the Count himself, who refused to abandon their faerie steeds, choosing to fight, and if needs be, die in the saddle.
The initial charge had been thrilling and glorious. Once they had gained their way through the portal, a group of twenty or so Fir-bholg had risen in surprise from their little encampment to face the oncoming army. They had been there to face whatever would eventually gain passage through the gate, and they did not completely fail in their obligation. They fought and died well.
There had been no question in Hemlock’s mind that this was not the full force of the menace they had come to face. These dark kin served as an outpost station, a first defense. The Gwydion had expected to see a handful of them turn and run for the forest while the others charged the superior force. Those messengers did not make it very far. Lady Thistle, and Dames Ping and Pong peppered them with arrows as Lady Kieran set them afire with Pyretics.
The bravery of the Fir-bholg was uncanny. Very few could withstand the sight of heavy cavalry bearing down on them, let alone charge to meet the assault. The earth shook as the warhorses churned at the ground with their thundering hooves. The Dreaming’s sun reflected from the sea of armored sidhe, trolls and eshu riding forward with their lances extended. Hemlock wondered briefly if the sound of impact could be heard back in the mortal lands, such was the clash of horses, weapons and bodies. What the lances did not take down, the pounding feet of the mounts did. No Fir-bholg walked away from that onslaught. It was not, however, altogether one-sided.
The tales of chaos that surrounded the ancient enemies of both the Tuatha de Danaan and Fomorian alike were not merely myth. Something about these creatures caused a radical change in the environment around them. Even as they fell, broken and bleeding to the Dreaming’s earth, the ground split asunder, and many of the horses that trampled them had gone lame on impact. Most of the riders were lucky or skilled enough to leap the rift which had suddenly appeared, or steer clear of such trouble. But more than one faerie horse and valiant rider were lost to the abyss, as the Dreaming swallowed them whole. Many of the mounts had fallen to broken legs. Ordinarily, these would have had to be put down. Fortunately, Celith, Sphynx and other healers were present to tend the wounds of injured riders and the heroic steeds as well.
After the first skirmish, Count Hemlock called Baron Kealan to him. The Baron had been leading the infantry, and to the disappointment of many, the cavalry had left little for them to do but search over the fallen enemy, slitting the throats of the mortally wounded. The Count assured the troops that they would be able to bloody their blades more honorably very soon. Baron Kealan and Aeril the Sylph were sent off to spy the forest ahead, Kealan as a bird of prey and Aeril in his natural form, and insubstantial. Hemlock knew that the Fir-bholg preferred a natural habitat, and this forest was dense and primordial, a perfect natural fortification. In short order, the spies returned, confirming the suspicions.
Hemlock raised Lucidia and urged Summer forward to strike down a Fir-bholg that sought to take down Baroness Jenna. He cursed himself for allowing her to come here, but he knew that she sought vengeance, no matter how misplaced, for the murder of her beloved. He spared her a grin of encouragement as she knelt down to finish the man-beast off, and then trotted off into the woods to find another foe to fell.
He passed many engaged in their own dances of battle. Screams echoed through the wood, as friend and foe alike fell bleeding to the ancient loam. Lut stood above the body of Tig, hacking fiercely at a female Fir-bholg with her broadsword. This was the first battle for the young wilder trolls from Rivervale, and as Sphynx hurried to join them, Hemlock prayed that they would live to fight another day.
Hemlock Autumnsbane rode past two people, almost hidden in the shadows, lying on the ground and struggling. He snarled in disgust as he saw the Fir-bholg holding down a woman, her face unrecognizable as it was pressed to the ground. He was raping her from behind, grunting like an animal. A scream escaped Hemlock’s throat as he charged forward, but reined in his warhorse as Cavall lunged from nowhere, ripping out the dark kin’s throat with his mighty canine fangs. Sir Arvid moved to help the doe pooka, and Hemlock left them in order to aid Baroness Kaysa with a handful of large brutes who had singled her out.
The mounted Valkyrie had made her presence known in this forest, singing Swedish battle songs in her beautiful soprano voice, while simultaneously staining the forest floor in Fiona crimson. She had taunted the Fir-bholg enough to draw the wrath of the biggest among them, a warlord of some skill no doubt. Nana, her milk-white steed, was already wounded and blood-soaked, and Kaysa’s armor was dented and soiled with the blood of her enemies, and that of her own as well.
"Kaysa!" Hemlock shouted above the din. "This one is MINE!"
Count Autumnsbane dug his spurs into Summer’s flanks, urging his mount forward through the wood at high speed. The seven foot tall, antlered and bearded beast-man turned and smiled, pounding his chest with one hand, while brandishing a huge tree branch-cudgel with the other. Just as Hemlock was almost upon his chosen opponent, a tree fell between the Gwydion and his intended target. Summer reared quickly in response, and losing his footing as the ground rolled beneath him, the stallion fell, and Hemlock tumbled and rolled from the saddle.
In his peripheral vision, Hemlock saw Baron Kealan, Sir Milston and Lady Kieran fending off a half dozen of the enemy, their battle frenzy as mighty as that of any Gwydion’s. As he struggled, slightly dazed, to his feet in his heavy armor, the lightly clad warlord was upon him. The cudgel came down hard, and Hemlock had just enough reflex left to him to raise his shield to stop the blow. The Fir-bholg chieftain was very powerful, and Hemlock gasped as he felt his arm break with the impact. Even as the blow was stopped from cracking his skull, the shield Hemlock held disintegrated after it was smitten. Hemlock took advantage of his position on the ground and cut the giant’s legs out from under him. The Warlord screamed horribly as he fell, lame and bleeding, to the ground. Hemlock flung his body atop the Fir-bholg’s, not trusting this beast to simply bleed to death. With one stroke of Lucidia, he took the Chieftain’s head, even as he was aware of Kaysa riding his way and Kealan, Milston and Kieran running at him from the other direction. He heard their voices calling his name, even as the cudgel smashed his helmeted skull from behind.
Fire is devastating to a forest, and this ages old tactic had been suggested to the Count. Lady Kieran and others possessed knowledge in the Art of Pyretics. A few well-placed cantrips and the forest would have come down, taking many of the enemy with it. But Hemlock had refused to destroy the landscape on principal. Brekke and many of the satyrs and pooka also protested against the needless waste of trees and the wildlife that surely shared the forest with the enemy. These reasons alone were arguable, of course, but the news from the scouts had rendered the matter moot. Many Fir-bholg and Fomorians were known to keep slaves, and these were no exceptions to the rule. At the center of the forest was a sylvan glade, covered with beautiful flowers, a pond of crystal clear water, and a cave, sealed up with metal bars. Aeril and Kealan were able to get close enough to see the half dozen prisoners, though they were unable to communicate with them without alerting the many Fir-bholg guards.
Hemlock choked on the cool water, as he lay upon the lush grass. Sphynx was trying to get him to drink of the water, now that he had finally regained consciousness, due to the healing ministrations of both Celith and herself. He looked up to see Magnus chatting with Arvid, the former with a bandage around his head, the latter with his arm in a sling. His eyes were then drawn to the excited pooka running his way, being followed by Barons Kealan, Brekke, Kaysa and the limping Jenna.
"We didn’t win, COUNT!" the twin cat pooka beamed at him. Then they sat down in the grass beside him and rubbed their faces against his, bringing a smile to his lips.
"Summer?!", he asked quickly, trying to get to his feet, but was held down by Sphynx and the pooka.
"Your valiant steed grazes with the other fae horses, My Liege," responded Kaysa with a bow.
"And they are being watched by the world’s biggest guard dog, Your Excellency," replied Kealan, with a wink at Arvid.
Brekke cleared her throat, drawing Hemlock’s attention. "There are some people you might like to meet, Your Excellency." Hemlock thought he noted the hint of a smile tug the corners of Brekke’s mouth as Sir Milston and Lady Kieran escorted several people to meet the count. Hemlock got to his feet, despite the protestations of the three ladies.
He had not expected to see Baron Drudwyn alive, yet here he was. The Gwydion fell to his knees and lowered his head the moment he saw Hemlock. The Count watched in awe for only a moment before he noticed another familiar face.
"Baron Gawain?!" Hemlock looked to Brekke, and she was indeed smiling.
"Tis a long story, Your Excellency." The troll baron smiled and bowed, Celith standing cheerfully beside his former liege.
Hemlock was speechless, and this was even more so when he noticed the unicorn sipping from a nearby spring. Then he turned to the assembled barons, his face serious once more.
"How many did we lose?"
"Thirteen, Your Excellency" It was Thistle’s voice who had answered. "An unlucky number, Xavier will tell us."
"But Sir Arvid and I have counted no less than one hundred and one of the enemy dead, Your Excellency," came Magnus’ voice from a few feet away.
"Aye," nodded Milston. "We counted about the same." Lady Kieran nodded beside the Scathach.
"Fomorians?" Hemlock looked around the glade, searching each face for answers.
"None that we found, Count Hemlock," Kealan responded confidently, turning toward Aeril.
"And no Balor, Ailil or any other fae for that matter," Jenna added softly, glancing briefly at Drudwyn.
"I flew many leagues in each direction, Your Excellency. These Fir-Bholg were alone in this forest outpost." The sylph issued his report confidently, and Hemlock nodded.
"Then our work is done here. Let’s go home. We have a county to protect, and I have a wife to kiss."
"Yes, Your Excellency," they responded in unison. Then they gathered up their things, and headed back to the portal.
The weary warriors made it back to the Gate with no trouble. Several of the cavalry now went on foot, while many of the infantry were granted the use of steeds to ease the journey because of their wounds.
The portal shimmered in multi-spectral light. Hemlock directed Kealan to lead out the infantry and Kaysa to lead the cavalry through, with Brekke staying behind with him. Once everyone was through, Hemlock looked up to Brekke and smiled.
"Good job. Nicely done. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning."
Brekke smiled. "And of course, I’ll most likely forget you said that in the morning as well."
Hemlock smiled and stepped through the portal with Brekke, returning from the quest as they had done so many times before in years past. He then reached up and removed the jewels from their sockets. The light vanished, and so did the archway.
"I hope I never see you again," he said to the vanishing gate. Hemlock then rode the trod back to Caer Falken, taking the lead once more.
Fin
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