Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
The doors at the top of the stairs and the end of the tunnel opened
up between a stand of pines, framed by several granite sentinels that
kept the door hidden from all but the most determined of hunters.
Elizabaeg and the eight men with her all scrambled up and out of the
tunnel eager to get away.
"We can crush them with this rock!" Brigsne said as he and three
other men moved behind a slab of stone that had begun to crack off
from the main section. They braced themselves between the rock wall
and the slab and pushed with hands and legs.
"Just one moment!" Luvig said, as he looped the rope winch to open
the doorway through the small handle of one of his jars.
"Hurry," Elizabaeg snapped as she moved back to where the men
struggled. "I can hear them coming!"
And indeed they could hear the pounding of heavy paws as the two pups
thundered down the tunnel after them.
"Just have to tie a knot..." Luvig muttered to himself, his eyes ever
on the jar and not on the open pit into darkness before him. From out
of that pit they could hear the baking snarls and slavering yips grow
closer. And closer.
And then their hulking forms drove into view, slowing only a pace as
they rounded the turn in the tunnel and started rushing up the long
stone steps toward the light. Their golden eyes gleamed in the
brightness of dawn's birth, and their fangs shone as bronze spears,
like an ancient army marching to war in full regalia. They raced up
the steps on all fours, wicked claws scraping away the stone.
"That's it!" Luvig cried, and then he swung the jar downward and ran
away. The jar, tied to the end of the rope, swung in a long arc, just
missing the stairs in front of the two pups, before shattering
against the rock ceiling and showering a bright yellow powder over
the two beasts. They stumbled and crashed into the steps, sneezing
and clawing madly at themselves as the gagging stench rose up and
assaulted them. The tunnel had became a demon's outhouse and the
infernal beasts were trapped inside.
A loud crack echoed beside them as the stone slab broke free and
rushed across the sort space of grass and down the steps. The two
pups yelped and ran back down the steps. The stone caught the rope
and yanked the doors shut with a loud bang. The members of the
Resistance looked at each other, the tunnel door, and then at Luvig.
"It worked..." Brigsne murmured in astonishment.
"I've never seen them run," Luvig almost crowed in his delight. "Two
years of breaking bones and collecting piss, and they ran! Praise Eli!"
Elizabaeg looked at the scrawny man and shook her head. "I don't want
to know any more about that. And I don't think it will stop them
long. Let's hurry. They know we're here and once they get whatever
that was off of themselves, they'll be following our trail."
"There's a stream not too far south of hear that cuts across to the
east," Luvig pointed. "They'll have a wonderful time following us in
that." He carefully hoisted his pack which held the rest of the jars.
Each were sequestered in their own little pouch to keep them from
jostling, but Elizabaeg was still amazed that none of them had broken
in their run. "Trust me."
She grimaced but nodded. "Let's go. And let's hope the others find us too."
----------
Gmork's youngest felt like somebody had dunked his head in a bucket
of hot coals. He scraped at his face to get the burning stinking
powder from his flesh and fur but it didn't seem to help at all. Fire
seared him from a thousand different directions and his mind
descended into a chaos of howls, barks, and whines. His fangs yearned
to tear into something and rend it to a bloody ruin.
"Hold still!" his older brother snapped with a growl. He did his
best, grasping at his calves and digging his claws into the fur there
while his tail tucked up between his legs. He gritted his teeth and
kept his eyes shut. He couldn't smell anything but a rotten
flatulence coating the inside of his nostrils. He could hear his
brother murmuring words to an incantation, and then a moment later he
felt a strong wind driving through his fur. He couldn't tell where it
was coming from and where it was going, but the agony of the
putrescence was quickly leached away.
And with it too went the fire scalding his flesh. When the wind died
away, he gasped and slumped on the bridge, looking at his clawed
hands and rubbing it over his long snout, furred cheeks, ears and
head. The fur had shriveled in a myriad tiny patches; he brushed
little black balls of melted hair off of his face as he blinked and
looked around.
His brother was glaring off to the north but didn't leave his side.
After a moment he glanced back down and growled, "Father will need to
know about this. Come."
They ran on two feet back to the mill and found their brothers
climbing up a staircase hidden behind the inner waterwheel. They were
drenched in wine and smelled of burned fur. They glowered and shifted
into more human shapes so that they would not look as foolish.
"What happened?" the eldest of Gmork asked.
"Some strange yellow powder," the second pup replied as he squeezed
wine from the fur tufts on his mostly human arm. "I've never seen or
smelled anything like it. It was... horrible. They left a cask of
wine down below and we washed it off with that."
"We only saw four," the youngest offered when he finally managed to
stop pulling the melted fur balls from his face. "But I know I heard
more. Where did they go?"
The second gestured to the south with a clawed finger. "The tunnel
opened up somewhere in the woods. We'll find it and track them down.
You two go back to Father. You need your rest."
"We will." The eldest wagged hi naked tail and his blue eyes gleamed
with anger. "But first I want to find some of this powder. Father
will want to see it."
The two wine-drenched pups growled and shook themselves. "There's
plenty left at the end of the tunnel." They stepped out of the mill
and let their snouts grow, black noses testing the air. "I never want
to smell that again," he growled deep and angry. And then the two of
them dropped to all fours and bounded away into the woods.
Gmork's youngest watched them go, and then wrinkled his nose. There
was an odd bird scent inside the mill too. "Wait here," his older
brother said through clenched teeth. "I will be right back."
He barked once in agreement and then scrambled up into the hayloft to
study that scent. He pondered what it could mean as he'd never
smelled a bird quite like that. And as he rummaged through the old
hay, he hoped that his brother found something to mask that vile powder's odor.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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