But even as he allowed such wishful fancies to cross his mind, thin cries erupted from the beleaguered wagons. Answering calls to the left drew his attention, and despair washed over him as more than two hundred kobolds emerged from the flank of the foothills, almost exactly opposite his position on the far side of the river, and began advancing on the wagons.
A meager flight of arrows streaked from behind the wagons and fell short of the kobolds, striking none. The kobolds, armed with javelins, short spears, axes, and clubs, continued on in relentless waves.
Mika stared at the kobolds, fascinated in spite of himself, for while he had never actually seen one, he had heard them described in great detail by those who had.
He knew that they were small, barely three feet tall, every inch packed with diabolical cunning. Their skin was a tough, horny substance that covered their body like scaled armor and could deflect all but the most direct hits from blades and arrows. The digits of their feet and hands ended in sharp claws that could inflict infection and disease by the merest contact.
Their heads were ugly, bare skulls ridged with a hard, horny crest, and bestial snouts whose mouths were filled with jagged teeth.
Their presence here at the river was odd, for they were subterranean creatures most often found in dank, dark places like caves or overgrown swamps.
They had obviously chosen their moment of attack carefully, preferring darkness to the painful brilliance of daylight. Mika knew that the pupil of the kobold eye was similar to that of a cat and opened in darkness to utilize whatever light was available. Kobold night vision was exceptional, as it must be for the dark underground environs they normally inhabited. Their human enemies, on the other hand, were both hampered by the dark and exhausted.
Mika-oba groaned at the kobolds' steady progress, knowing that those sheltered behind the wagons would soon be overcome unless the Wolf Clan could cross the river quickly and come to their aid.
The odds did not look good, but Wolf Nomads were not known for their cowardice, and given the stubborn, pig-headed code of valor that Enor lived by, Mika knew that the chief would not stop to consider the odds, but would order his men into the fray.
Mika did not relish the thought of dying under a swarm of kobolds. Nor did he wish to be taken alive; he had heard rumors of what kobold women did to male human prisoners-placing them in cages and using and abusing them sexually until they begged for death. But what other alternative was there?
Mika thought for a minute, then, spying a smooth rock the size of his hand, he picked it up and considered it. Perhaps he could knock himself out and then wake up conveniently after the battle was over. No one would even miss him. He tapped himself on the head experimentally. Damn! Pain, hurt! Just then, there was a soft slither, and Enor-oba crept to his side.
Silently heaping malediction on the fellow, Mika dropped the rock, signaled Enor-oba to follow and quietly rejoined the waiting band.
'It's not good,' Mika reported somberly, hoping that he could persuade the chief to abandon his plan. 'It appears that most of the men are dead. I counted many human bodies, both traders and nomads. There cannot be many left alive. I also observed a large army of kobolds. They are advancing on the caravan even now. We are hopelessly outnumbered and I fear that it is already too late to rescue the few survivors. Our losses would be great.'
Enor's face was cold and hard. 'A Wolf Nomad does not know the meaning of defeat as long as he is still alive! We are born for a life of fighting. If death comes, so be it, as long as it is with honor. I know you would not have it otherwise, Mika-oba.'
The chief placed his arm around the shoulders of the younger man and gazed deep into his eyes. 'I know how your sword lusts to avenge the death of your friends. I know how your heart longs for battle. Well, you shall soon have your wish.
'Come, men, we must act immediately if we are to save them,' said Enor, and Mika knew that there was nothing that he could do or say to convince the chief to change his mind.
Mika stamped his feet and shook his sword with the rest of them, while inwardly raging at the foolhardiness that could so easily cause him to forfeit his life. All Mika truly wished for at that moment was to be safely at home, tucked away in a dark nook, enjoying Celia's favors. It was not his intention to die on the blade of some stupid dwarf of a kobold just to save a wagon load of trade goods. All thoughts of rescuing the mysterious wealthy princess had long since vanished from his mind. Somehow, he must see to it that he was positioned in the rear when they attacked.
'We must cross the river and outflank the kobolds,' droned Enor, his arm still wrapped around Mika's shoulders as the men conferred in a tight huddle, wolves crowding in at their feet. 'Our only hope will be to trap them between ourselves and those in the wagons. We must not allow them to slip past us and reach the foothills where others of their kind are sure to be hiding.'
'Mika-oba must lead us,' Enor-oba said with quiet persistence while Mika cursed him silently. 'He is, after all, the best bowman among us.'
'That is true,' Enor said, turning to Mika with a smile. 'It is a position of great danger and I would not ask it of you, but I know that one of your prowess would demand it.
'Then, too, you have never had the opportunity of war to exhibit your abilities, since we have been cursed with this lasting peace. Friendly competitions are all right, but there is nothing like a good battle to get a man's blood running and show what he is really made of. I know that you must welcome this opportunity. All eyes will be on you, Mika.'
Mika's heart shriveled within his breast. All thoughts of hiding in the rear were now banished by Enor's words. What misfortune! With a surge of panic, he looked from face to face around the circle of warriors, and saw nothing in their eyes but readiness.
'Light!' croaked Mika-oba, his voice shakier than he wished. 'Light can be a weapon, honored chief. You are right, I do welcome the challenge, but there are so many kobolds, I dare not risk one of us, not even myself, over such a foolish thing as pride, until all of our comrades are safe. As you know, kobolds hate bright light. If we could fashion flares or large bonfires, it would hurt their eyes and deflect their aim.'
'And make ourselves better targets, too,' muttered one of the younger men whose older brother had been among those sent to accompany the caravan. Others nodded in agreement.
'Besides, there are no trees this far south of the forest and nothing but rock on the other side of the river,' said Enor. 'I am afraid we will have to rely on arms and if some of us fall, so be it.'
'Grease bushes!' said Mika-oba with a sudden burst of inspiration. 'We'll use grease bushes. Spread out and collect as many as possible. Fill your cloaks and wrap them well, for we will have to cross the river, and they must remain dry if they are to serve the purpose.'
There was some indecision among the nomads, for not all of them were convinced that Mika knew what he was talking about, but in the end, unable to suggest an alternative plan, Enor nodded his approval and they did as directed.
Mika-oba smiled to himself as he hacked through the tough stem of a squat, round grease bush, piling it on his cloak with the others he had wrested from the hard ground. He pictured the devastation they would cause while allowing him to remain away from the kobolds.
Grease bushes were so named because they stored pockets of a pitch-like substance in their dry branches. Wise travelers avoided their easy abundance and sought other material for building camp-fires, for while grease bushes burned easily and well, heat caused the pockets of pitch to explode and coat the unwary with spills of clinging fire. With any luck, the kobolds would discover just how painful that could be.
Their cloaks were soon filled and the Wolf Nomads followed Mika as he picked his way downstream.
Enor dogged Mika's heels, pushing him on more quickly than he liked. The wolves were in the lead, running silently, tongues lolling, canines gleaming white in the occasional flash of moonlight. The cries of battle were swept toward the party by the winds, faint yet filled with the despair of death and, even more horrible, blood curdling kobold yelps of victory. Even Mika felt his blood stir as his feet carried him ever closer to the battle.
Once past the bend in the stream, the river swung south and then straightened for its descent into Lake Quag. Here, the banks rose steeply and the river rushed at a rapidly increasing speed. In its lower reaches, the water foamed and hurled itself around jagged rocks fallen from the sheer cliffs that framed it on either side. Fortunately, Enor and his men were able to cross before the river entered the narrow divide.
