23. Slaughter in the shrubbery
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As the boar’s teeth were searching for my throat to tear it out, Jim stabbed the beast with his halberd. The stab was hasty, and the glinting steel couldn’t pierce the monster’s heart through the tough skin and many layers of muscles and fat, but the wound gave my enemy a pause.

A pause was all I needed. My searching fingers closed around the handle of my dagger, and I rammed the blade into the animal’s throat.

That should have killed the boar. That should have killed anything. But as I pulled out the blade, instead of a torrent of blood, only a few drops escaped while the wound closed before my eyes.

Then Beldrak’s warhammer connected with the boar’s head, and that finally did the trick. The beast recoiled, whimpering. The dwarf let his weapon go, grabbed my arm and dragged me backwards.

Now the bear darted forward to kill the insolent wizard, who thought to rob them from their prey. As the great paw whizzed towards Trueanvil’s head, the dwarf said one loud word, the air around him glowed, and the animal’s claws missed us.

I was standing again now, without shield and sword, but a javelin still in my quiver. Spear is the best weapon against a bear anyway, I thought.

We were three, and the druids were only two. They had surprise on their side, but that wore off now, and we were gaining the upper hand. I left the wounded boar to Jim and Beldrak and leapt forward to distract the bear.

I stabbed towards the monster’s eyes, again and again, keeping it off-balance, not letting it to regain its bearings. It was a battle of wills at this point. The animal-turned druid had the power and speed to crush me at any given point as I danced around him, but the point of my glinting spear was always between us, stabbing into the face, forcing the cursed heart-ripper back.

If he had the presence of mind to charge into my pilum and crush me with sheer mass, the blasted magician would have on our duel. But it was too afraid of getting hurt and kept backing away. I heard Beldrak shout, followed by a high-pitched scream, then felt the smell of roasted pig. We got you, you bastard!

The bear-druid has recognised this too because he turned to flee. But he could not outrun javelins. Jim’s spear flew true, so did mine, and then Trueanvil followed up with a mote of fire. The bear-form stumbled, its leg hurt, and we caught up. The druid desperately flailed as we caught up to him, but to no avail. When the blasted heart-ripper saw that he cannot win with force, he decided to plead with us.

It was a startling change as the hair disappeared back into the body, paws turned into hands, and suddenly a scrawny, young man stood before us instead of a giant bear.

“Please, let me go! I will give you my treasure! Our treasure! The jewels and gold of my order!”

“Or we kill you now and take everything anyway,” I suggested.

“You will never find it without me!” shouted the man, panicked.

“Maybe not,” I allowed. “But I am willing to take the risk.”

“Let the man speak, Arnold,” Trueanvil chided me. Then he turned to the druid. “I know that there is an old beech in this forest, a beech that receives blood-sacrifices from you and your comrades. I assume you use that tree as a focus to rule over the squirrels of the woods. Am I correct?”

“How do you…”

“That is none of your concern.”

Our trapped enemy’s eyes darted between the three of us, searching for a route of escape that did not exist. Finally, the man sighed and gave in.

“Yes, you are correct. The Spirit of the wood inhabits that tree. We serve It with sacrifices, and in exchange, It bestows power upon us.”

“I could find the beech and the treasure too,” mused Beldrak. “But with your help, we can accomplish both faster. If you know what’s good for you, you will help us. This is the only way you live to see another sunset. Am I well understood?”

Trueanvil was usually much less bloodthirsty than I was, but seeing the caravan massacred rooted out any sympathy he might have felt towards our shivering prisoner.

“I… understand,” answered the druid, knowing well that is life depended on whether or not we believed him.

“Then let’s get moving,” I growled.

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