Tanis the shadow years

44

Tanis spun around to see long, reptilian arms stretched out to drag him down. Knife still in his hand, he slashed at the hand of the closest slig, eliciting a scream. Two others hit him with their heads, butting him in the shoulder and chest. He went down from the impact, the metal box flying out of his hand. The quill tumbled free and fell to the ground. The note-Brandella's note-with the warning scrawled across it fluttered out of the box and down into the hole from which it had been dug. Rolling sharply to his left, drawing a sharp breath as he tumbled over shards of broken cobblestone, the half- elf avoided a spear that clattered to the ground, narrowly missing one of his legs. His sword lay somewhere behind him. He was dead if he couldn't get to it-and probably dead even if he did. But he had to try.

The sligs swarmed after him, but the biggest one, the one with ugly burns on his body, shouted, "Get the quill!"

The sligs fell into confusion, momentarily breaking off their attack to follow Zarjephwu's orders. Tanis also saw the quill, but grabbing it and dying with it in his hand wasn't going to do him any good. Instead, he lunged backward for his sword, grabbed it by the handle, and rolled over and up unto his knees.

A tall, skinny slig scooped the quill off the ground. It didn't have the writing instrument long. Tanis swung his sword, lopping off the creature's arm and slashing into its chest with one sweep. The quill dribbled from lifeless fingers.

The closest sligs scrambled for the quill again. Tanis jumped to his feet, slashing at one of the creatures, but found his sword blocked by a spear held up at both ends by Zarjephwu. Black eyes with points of silver stared at the half-elf with palpable hatred; the powerful creature's muscles barely bulged with his effort. "The quill is ours," he said in guttural Common. "And so is your life." With that, he let out a stream of poisonous spittle, aimed at Tanis's face, trying to blind him.

The half-elf ducked out of the way, falling backward, trying desperately to keep his footing. Two arms caught him and tried to crush him: another slig. Tanis felt the air whoosh out of his chest as the creature used all its strength to squeeze the life from him. The half-elf tried to fight back, but his arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn't do anything to free himself.

Just as Tanis was about to black out, the slig suddenly let go. Tanis did not know what had saved him; he simply sagged to the ground. This time, however, another set of hands grabbed him and pulled him back up.

"Clotnik!" the half-elf gasped.

The dwarf had used his sword to stab the slig, running it through from back to front. The blade was still stuck in the slig, and Clotnik was unable to get it out.

Tanis couldn't help remembering that Mertwig had saved Tanis's life in this same place. Plucking from the ground the spear that had recently missed his leg, he tossed it to the dwarf. As he did so, Tanis, breathing heavily, managed to call out, "You remind me of your father."

Clotnik beamed.

"I'll thank you properly later," the half-elf added. "First, let's get Kishpa's enchanted quill back from these creatures."

The dwarf's face broke into a horrified grimace. 'The quill7" he squeaked. "They've got it?"

There were thirteen sligs to fight, all bigger and' stronger than the half-elf and the dwarf. There was no use in running; the pair would never get away. But that was only one reason for fighting. The other reason was that letting the enchanted quill, with its future- foretelling magic, fall into the hands of the sligs was purely unthinkable.

However, a very tall slig warrior held the quill high and was proudly passing it to Zarjephwu. Tanis didn't even think; he immediately forged in among the sligs. Clotnik plowed right behind him, his eyes a dangerous green and his weak chin nearly firm.

The half-elf blocked a blow from a bardiche with his sword, hammered another slig in the gut with a closed fist, but staggered under the might of an elbow that caught him in the side of the head. Meanwhile, Clotnik jabbed a slig in the thigh with his spear, and the creature fell to its knees. Tanis saw his chance. He jumped on the back of the fallen slig, gaining enough height to swing his blade at the enchanted quill held aloft by the tall slig.

Tanis's blade sang, cutting through the air, and then it sliced the quill into neat halves.

The bellow of rage from the snarling mouth of Zarjephwu made his fellow sligs cower in fear. He was so maddened by the loss of the quill that he broke the neck of one of his own warriors, who had stood between him and Tanis.

Clotnik tried to cover Tanis's retreat, stabbing the point of his spear into the shoulder of one slig and then smashing the other end of his spear into the snout of another. But there were too many of them, coming from too many directions.

Several massive hands clawed at Clotnik's legs, tearing at his skin with their long, sharp-nailed fingertips. More hands grabbed him about the waist, dragging him down.

Tanis tried to protect the fallen dwarf, but two sligs locked their massive hands on his sword arm, easily holding it immobile. As Zarjephwu charged at him, the two began bending his arm back. The half-elf knew they were waiting to hear the crack of a bone.

A shrill, otherworldly scream suddenly erupted from somewhere behind Tanis. In the midst of their murdering, all the sligs stopped cold. The two who were trying to snap Tanis's arm were so startled they turned to look. Even Zarjephwu stopped, shock sweeping over his features.

Though Tanis could not twist to see what had so surprised the sligs, there was something faintly familiar about the high-pitched scream. In the next instant, the two sligs holding Tanis let go and began to run. One was just a bit too slow. A sword slashed its back, and it fell, writhing, to the ground.

Tanis turned to face this scourge of the sligs-and faced Scowarr! The granite statue had come to life. The flapping head bandages, the impossibly high-pitched cry of combined fear and courage, the wildly swinging sword… it was the Hero of Ankatakava, in all his glory!

Tanis was so startled by the sight of his old friend that he almost fell victim to the sharp edge of a slig broadsword. He dodged the blade at the last possible moment, even as he called out an exultant greeting to the magically awakened statue.

But Scowarr did not answer. His lips, gray granite, only screamed. He fell upon the warriors holding Clotnik down, slaughtering them as if he were an avenging god. The slender human's short hair, bursting in tufts from gaps in the bandages, bristled with vengeance.

Scowarr then turned and, shouting incoherently in his shrill voice, ran after a half-dozen fleeing sligs.

Another slig, however, did not rim.

Zarjephwu was fearful of the strange, screaming creature with the flapping bandages, but he held no terror of Tanis, and it was the half-elf who had brought his band low. There would be no opportunity to torture the half- elf, but at least he would have the satisfaction of killing- him.

The slig leader threw away his spear and bent into a crouch. His jaw opened wide and venomous spittle dripped from his tongue. He eyed Tanis with a lean and hungry look. The half-elf knew that the sligs often ate their victims, sometimes alive.

The slig moved on all fours, slowly closing the distance between them. Even in his crouch, the slig was nearly as tall as Tanis. Behind him, Clotnik moaned, his blood soaking the ground of the long-abandoned village of his birth. Tanis had to draw his enemy away, and so he backed up, keeping his eye on the slig with every step.

Zarjephwu enjoyed the pursuit. The half-elf seemed unnerved to him; the creature both hated and reveled in the weakness of his prey. Carefully, the slig maneuvered toward Tanis, forcing him in a certain direction, waiting for the right moment to pounce and sink his teeth into the half-elf's throat.

As far as Tanis could figure, he had retreated nearly halfway across the open village square. He cast a quick glance away from the slig to see Clotnik trying to drag himself toward his tethered bullbogg. If he was lucky, the dwarf might be able to get away.

Then Tanis backed up against something hard. He was trapped in the center of the square, his back against the base of Scowarr's statue. A moment of panic struck Tanis. He'd made a terrible mistake.

Zarjephwu sprang.

Tanis did the only thing he could think of; he let his back slide down the base of the statue while he kicked up with his legs. His feet caught the slig in the stomach, sending the creature still higher. Zaljephwu flew over the base. An instant later, he cried out and then went silent.

Blood dripped down on Tanis from above.

The half-elf looked up and, astonished, saw that the statue of Scowarr was back in place! Impaled upon the statue's sword was the slig.

Tanis rose shakily, looking up at his old friend, expecting a word, a handshake. The statue, aged and weathered, was as impassive as the stone that formed it. Had he dreamed that Scowarr had come to his aid and scattered the sligs? But then Tanis's eyes fell on the inscription below the statue. It had changed! Magically altered from the original, the new inscription read. Now, is that funny, or what?

Tanis roared with laughter.