the animal. Auron had already performed miracles for his
master. The knight could not honestly ask for anything
more. It was up to Garrick alone.
With shaking fingers, he pulled out the medallion. It
was still warm to his touch and seemed to shine even in the
darkness. He caressed it for a moment and then sank to his
knees in prayer.
They came just before dawn.
He had just put out the last of the fires. Now he rested
against the side of a tree, sword drawn, shield ready. He had
released Auron and sent him away, not wishing so loyal a
beast to perish for little reason.
The fires had been easy to build. The forest was dying;
branches littered the ground. Most were dry and made good
kindling. The fires were strong, though not long in burning
themselves out. That they existed was more than sufficient
for Garrick’s purposes.
By their slowed movements, he knew that scouts had
found the remains of more than one of the fires. He had
been careful to scatter a few fragments around each fire,
junk he had gathered on his way here. Just enough to lend
truth to the thoughts of the enemy – that the Queen’s foes
awaited her army in this forest.
Garrick heard the hiss of an indrawn breath. A leathery,
misshapen foot moved into sight.
The knight’s sword was a blur. It was into and out of the
draconian’s neck before the creature had a chance to die.
The body solidified to stone and tumbled forward. Garrick
glanced around the tree and then darted swiftly away.
He did not stop until he was some distance from the area
where he had killed the reptilian warrior. Again, he pushed
himself tightly against the tree and waited. This time, the
wait was not long. His eyes were already getting blurry;
soon he would be unable to see.
These scouts were men. His first blow took out the
closest of the two. The scout had time to gasp and no more.
Even as he fell, Garrick was already working on his
companion. This man had time to ready his weapon, but his
skill was far inferior to the training a Knight of Solamnia
received. Garrick disarmed him first and then stunned him
with a blow to the shoulder. When the man attempted to
crawl away, Garrick knocked him out. Sheathing his sword,
he dragged his senseless opponent behind a tree. He forced
himself to concentrate on necessary actions. There were
some things that had to be done.
He stayed as long as he felt was safe and then moved
off to what would be his third, and probably final, position.
He dared not take any longer. His head was already
pounding.
Falling against a tree, he sought desperately to catch his
breath. They were ready for him now. The bodies of their
fallen comrades had alerted them to the immediate threat.
No longer did they attempt to sneak through the brush.
Garrick estimated at least five adversaries, two of whom
were almost within striking distance. He steadied his hands
as best he could and blinked several times in a futile attempt
to clear his vision. He could hear the hiss of the draconians
as clearly as if they were breathing in his ears.
The first to pass him made the mistake of looking the
wrong way as it passed. Garrick nearly sheared its head off.
Unfortunately, his speed had slowed considerably. The
draconian petrified and fell, pulling the great sword from
the knight’s weakened grasp even as it dropped.
Weaponless, Garrick’s luck nevertheless remained with
him. The second draconian had been momentari ly stunned
by the sudden attack. Before it could react properly, Garrick
was already on it. They struggled fiercely, the draconian’s
awkward build proving a disadvantage in hand-to-hand
combat on the ground. Only the knight’s exhaustion evened
the contest.
There were shouts from all around, both human and
draconian. A patrol had arrived. Garrick was torn away
from his adversary, who remained on the ground, gasping
for breath. He was able to strike one human in the stomach,
sending the recipient of the blow back a good four or five