Digging out and filling in Pug's grave took the whole morning. By the time the proceedings were finished, it was past time for the noon meal. The stone at the head of his grave was already marked with his first name, but either lack of time or lack of knowledge had prevented the person who had marked it from adding anymore.
Following the river eastward seemed the best course of action, given the news of yesterday's attack against the druid in that direction. Oleanne was long gone, and Kaileer could follow her to the river and no farther. The druid had crossed the Churnett and gone into the deep heart of the Thornwood. A short distance east of the beginning of the Hog Brook, a bend in the river provided a place of slow water that likely served as a swimming hole for the children of the families that steaded on Kuiper's farm. A rope tied from a tree limb served as a swing into the water, and the water here was easy enough that children at play could get out of the way of the slow-moving barges that transported goods up and down the river. All in all, it was a good place to cross the river.
The group crossed into the Thornwood proper a little damper but with no other troubles. The message that Kuiper had passed on from Oleanne proved to be true; there were signs of non-animal movement in the forest but no good trails to follow. Kaileer had found what seemed to be the first promising trail of the day when the sky suddenly turned ominous and began to rumble.
Almost everyone was familiar to some degree with the prophecies of Alaundo the Seer. As is always the case with prophecies, some were easier to fathom than others. Alaundo's Roll had named the present year the Year of Lightning Storms, and suddenly, that was easy enough to understand. The group barely had time to take what shelter they could find among some outcroppings of rocks on a hillside before the storm hit. Thunder rumbled loudly and a few close lightning strikes reminded them how vunerable they were out in the wood as they were. The next strike hit an ancient oak less than three hundred feet from where they sat huddled from the rain. The bright flash forced everyone to blink and look away, but when they looked back, the tree still stood.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of blinding lightning and pelting rain alternating with hail, the storm blew over. Then the fog rolled in. It was late in the day by then, and the failing light and the soupy fog limited visibility to only a few feet in front of them.
The sounds of movement and a low moan came out of the fog. Suddenly, the sound of a bow firing, once and then again, dropped Torro to the ground. The man clutched at an arrow in his throat for a moment, then fell still. Through the fog, they could barely see their assailants. There were somewhere between four and eight of them, and as best they could tell, they were preparing for more missile fire....
Aloysius looked for a nearby armored body to duck behind (or maybe a rock), and reached down into his belt pouch, trying to keep an eye on the goings on around him as best he could.
"Oh no you don't!" Arachne exclaimed, crawling to the stricken Torro.
Azrun slid back to cover Arachne and Torro in case things turned to melee, "Don't you die on me, bud. I need someone around here to joke with." He kept an eye to their back side to make sure no one was coming up from behind.
Gala looked over and saw Arachne tending to Torro. So she readied her flail for battle and waited for Jana or Blacky to approach.
"Not be target!" he hissed to the others as they (hopefuly) scrambled for defensive positions and he prepared to return fire.
"Shit," Jana growled. She moved her horse back and to the side, in whatever cover she could find and out of the line of fire. She draped the reins over something convenient to "tether" him. Moving as quickly as prudent, she returned to the others, bastard sword in hand.
Blacky let out a growl upon seeing one of his companions sprout an arrow from his throat. He pulled a throwing axe from his belt and threw it at one of the shadowy figures in the fog as he charged after it holding his two handed axe aloft. The group could hear familiar singing as he charged:
"There rose a king in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes.
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled,
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead."
Blacky and Kaileer hurled weapons at their attackers, but both spear and axe fell short of their marks. Blacky rushed forward to meet the attack as Kaileer crouched behind a rock and prepared to fire his bow.
Azrun moved to protect Arachne and the fallen Torro. Gala readied her flail; Lasiar did the same with his moon's hand. Aloysius moved behind a tree and gathered a pinch of sand from his bag, but the bandits were not in range of his magics. Jana grabbed her horse's reins and moved him to the side, throwing the reins over a low-hanging branch. Sweetie and Puddlejumper were both decidedly nervous. It became obvious to Jana that if she did not tie her horse, he was going to flee. Puddlejumper began pawing at the ground and sniffing the air anxiously.
Then the rain of arrows came. Most of them flew wild although a few came close enough to give people pause. Jana, however, was hit twice, and her horse took an arrow in the flank as she tied him. Sweetie screamed in pain and terror, and the sound was enough to send the normally brave Puddlejumper fleeing into the foggy evening.
"Ow! Dammit-- ow, shit!" Jana yelped as the arrows hit her. She managed to keep her grip on her horse's reins as he was hit. "Get back here, dammit!" Jana hissed at the departing PJ. "Oh, freakin' great," she muttered, tying her horse securely. She moved in with her sword drawn toward those figures approaching for melee.
Most of the movement in the fog materialized in the form of four humans, two with short swords and leather armor and two with long swords in chain mail. One of the chain-clad men headed for Aloysius and his tree. Blacky intercepted one of the leather-clad men as he charged forward. The other two headed for Azrun and Arachne.
A couple of shapes remained outside of clear view, undoubtedly the remaining archers. Sounds of movement beyond them, clumsy and slow, came in their direction. The wind caught the unmistakable stench of death and carried it to them....
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear . . . ." muttered Aloysius nervously as the chainmail-clad man approached. Swallowing hard to quell the effects of the rancid smell in his nostrils, he quickly tried to judge distances and areas of effect before letting loose with his spell.
