The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2

As the retreat climbed higher up the road, they could smell smoke and, in the direction of Mills Breath, the dull red glow of distant fires flickered.

“The city is burning,” noted Amien.

As they watched the distant fires flickered like tiny stars, the city’s burning heart seemed like a wounded beast gasping for its last breath, its pain felt even from afar.

“Poor Marroh,” sniffed young Joe with a tear. “He was a good dwarf!”

Ronthiel sighed sadly, watching as he nodded.

“The news grows worse, I’m afraid,” said Graybeard solemnly. “Shinayne tells me that not only was the enemy force pursuing us not dazzled by me, but in addition to their own two fire beetles, they have steeders, riding lizards, and several dire bats.”

“What are these fire beetles?” asked Amien.

“Normally, they’re just giant beetles that glow,” replied Shinayne. “However, these are only their shells. The drow hollow out their bodies into brainless corpses and then operate them from within. They can cross a battlefield immune to arrows within their armored shells.”

“It sounds like we can’t beat them,” noted young Joe.

“No. We can’t,” agreed Graybeard.

“We shall have to either fight a delaying rearguard or make a stand,” observed Shinayne.

“We cannot make a stand with women and children,” said Graybeard, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. “If these new man-orcs are anything like those of Vhaeraun we last fought, we would lose if we did, and a rearguard will not stop fire beetles.”

“So how do we stop them?” asked young Joe.

“Not with satyrs who cannot see,” answered Amien.

“They can see by my staff,” countered Graybeard. “But it will not blind the enemy.”

“If these man-orc archers are not blinded,” said Shinayne. "Then the armor of Sar's satyrs’ will not stop their arrows and their aim will be good.”

“If I understand you correctly,” responded Graybeard to the woman, “the argument you are making is to leave the women and children and make a run for the surface.”

“No. We will never make friends with dwarves if they learn we did that.”

“Then we must make a stand,” Graybeard said. “One the satyrs may not survive.”

“We can have the satyrs defend the rocks above the road, while we Black Dragons defend the road long enough for the dwarves to get out.”

“How can you hold the road against fire beetles?" asked Amien. “I thought they were armored? Won't they overcome you?”

“Eventually, yes.”

A hopeless pause followed in which there was nothing but silence between them.

“I suppose we could give the job again to the boy,” offered Amien. “He is still our leader.”

“The goat boy is your leader?” asked Shinayne of him.

“I am proud to say he is,” Amien told her with a steady eye.

“And mine,” added Graybeard.

“What is this?” she asked incredulously. “You both follow a boy satyr?”

Graybeard nodded. “It has to be,” he said. “Loth is my split-off opposite and so can deduce my plans. She cannot do so with the boy. So I cannot lead. Besides! He might just surprise you.”

“He and his drider are amongst the satyrs,” she replied. “Shall I send for him?”

“Why not send for Leradien too?” offered young Joe. “I have seen her kill more than three orcs.”

“Being human, young Joe here can only count to three. He means five tens of orcs,” explained Graybeard to Shinayne for him. “And in just her first fight.”

“Three or five tens,” answered Shinayne, “the difference doesn’t matter. They have fire beetles. Driders are of no consequence to them—no more than an inconvenience. Lolth does not create driders for making war or she would include them amongst her army. They are created only out of punishment.”

“Ours can fight,” said Amien with certainty.

"That would be a first," Shinayne countered but then wondered about that. “So why does she fight for you?”

“She doesn't. She fights for the boy.”

“The boy?” Shinayne blinked in surprise. “The satyr? How is that possible? Or is it a part of her madness?”

“More like part of her sanity,” added Ronthiel.

“She still will not win in this battle. With her demon blood she will simply die more slowly,” insisted Shinayne.

Young Joe crossed his arms, his eyes unwavering. “Nonetheless,” he said firmly, “I vote we include her. She is an honorary member of the gang.”

When the others all nodded in agreement, Shinayne obeyed and sent for both.

Soon the boy and his drider joined them and the problem explained. They were being pursued by a force moving up the road faster than themselves.

The boy understood the problem well enough. As a robber of farm crops, he was often pursued and frequently by elves faster than himself. And the solution was always the same.

Run where the elves can’t follow. Rocks work best.

“We need to deny them the road,” he said slowly. “Either we must leave it ourselves to make them leave it too, that we might slow them down, or we must close the road behind us to slow them down. Either way, we must slow them down.”

“The satyrs can easily leave the road for the rocks but not the dwarf women and children,” stated Amien.

“A roadblock,” said Shinayne of the boy’s other solution. “He means a roadblock.”

“Can it be done?” asked Graybeard.

“Ronthiel can do it,” said the boy.

“Me?” asked the elf. “I see no better than the satyrs!”

“It has to be you,” said the boy.

“The Light Elf is right,” Shinayne corrected him. “To see no better than the satyrs is to say he is half-blind. Give me your plan and I shall do it.”

“I agree,” said Leradien. “Let the Black Dragons block the road.”

“No,” insisted the boy. “It has to be Ronthiel.”

The boy explained his plan to Ronthiel, who reluctantly set out to perform it, although he saw little chance of success. Privately, he also thought the job should go to Shinayne and not him. Indeed! Shinayne set about developing a backup plan in case of his failure while the drider, not wishing to be involved in any plan calling for a volunteer, wandered off, leaving just young Joe, Amien, and Graybeard to question the boy’s judgment.

“I have always had great faith in you,” Graybeard told the boy, his voice tinged with concern. “But I must say, your logic escapes me this time.”

Even young Joe nodded in agreement, seeing the flaw.

“It escapes me as well!” said Amien. “While the plan is good, you have sent the wrong person to perform it! Ronthiel can neither see, nor climb, nor have the strength to do it!”

“I agree,” said the boy. “But someone else does.”

Ronthiel stumbled and slid on the rocks above the roadway. He did not have the hooves of a satyr for climbing, or the eyes of a drow, or the strength of a human to perform this mission. What had the boy been thinking when he chose him?

There was the rasp of sharp claws on rocks behind him and Ronthiel nearly jumped out of his skin at what it might be. Yet it was only Leradien catching up.

“Wait!” she said rather reluctantly. “I’m coming with you!”

Now the elf could have argued with her, but he didn’t. In fact, he was glad to see her. Of course, he would not tell her that. But she could at least see in the dark and climb anything when he couldn't.

“I don’t know why the boy sent you,” she objected, joining him. “You’re not a satyr. You can’t climb rocks! And you can only barely see! Get on my back and I’ll take you up there. You’ll never get to the top on your own.”

They had climbed above the roadway that led to the Three Candles but were actually headed back down towards cavern and the approaching enemy. Leradien stayed just high enough to still see the road below while looking for a section of loose rock above and nearby. At last, she found such pile and, with her spider’s legs and strength, she ripped out several good-sized boulders, much bigger than Ronthiel could have managed, and stacked them in position.

“I wonder what the boy was thinking when he picked you for this!” she complained again.

“He knew you wouldn’t volunteer,” Ronthiel replied. “And he needs a fine eye. Who else was left?”

“The Black Dragons, for one,” answered Leradien. “And you’re right, I wouldn’t have volunteered! What’s in it for me? Besides, the Black Dragons can see twice as far as I can. They should do this! Or Graybeard could have at least cast light for you to see by. This is the worst plan the boy has ever come up with!”

“I agree,” said Ronthiel. “But I have sworn to serve him for saving me from Olga and from the displacer beast. I do not care that he has released me from my vow.”

“You do realize,” she commented irately, “that it was me who saved you both those times?”

“Against your will,” he reminded her.

“Well! This time, it’s not against my will!”

Once she had a good size collection of boulders stacked on the banks of the cliff, they both hid behind them and watched the road below.

Ronthiel, of course, barely saw a thing, though what he was still better than before. Leradien had to do the watching for both of them. It was yet another reason for her to complain that Ronthiel had been given this task and the elf could hardly argue. She was absolutely right. What had the boy been thinking?

“Are they coming?” he asked.

“Of course, they’re coming! What did you think they were going to do—surrender?”

“I think the boy should have had Graybeard shine his staff down here just as you say, so that I could see,” complained Ronthiel. “Why didn’t you suggest it? You obviously thought of it.”

“Because I did not want the boy to send you at all!” she answered. “I will not help by adding to an already bad plan. Besides! It would hurt my eyes now and we need good eyes.”

The elf nodded and looked down the slope in the darkness.

“How are we supposed to aim these rocks?” He wondered aloud. “They’ll bounce all over the place when we push them off. We probably won’t hit a thing!”

“Which is yet another reason why this is a bad plan,” complained Leradien. “But I can throw them partway with my front forelegs,” she added. “I’m a lot stronger than you, and a spider has perfect coordination, balance, and precision. Anyway, that will get rid of some of the bounce.”

“Good thing we have plenty of rocks,” said the elf, “to allow for misses.”

“You mean it’s a good thing I have plenty of rocks,” the drider corrected him. “If it was up to the boy, you wouldn’t have any!”

That’s right. Ronthiel might have found only one rock in position he could handle. The other boulders would have been too big for him to move. Again, it was a stupid plan. It had no chance of success.

Leradien peered over the rocks. “I don’t like this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Somebody’s coming, but it’s only one orc. I don’t see any others.”

The faint whisper of approaching footsteps reached their ears from the road below, each footfall a ominous drumbeat signaling the encroaching danger drawing ever closer.

“He’s probably just a scout," offered Ronthiel. "The others are behind him.”

As they crouched behind the makeshift barricade of stacked boulders, the damp earthy scent of the cavern mingled with the faint echo of dripping water, creating a tense backdrop to their precarious situation. The dim glow of phosphorescent fungi created dark shadows against the rough-hewn walls, faintly illuminating the passage below them in a muted, otherworldly light.

“So, what are you going to do if we ever get out of here?” Leradien suddenly asked.

“Go home I guess.”

“I mean, what will you do if we ever get back to Durham Forest?”

“I don’t know. Go back to school, I suppose. Why?”

“What would you want to go back to school for? That’s a silly thing to do. It was from going to school that got you into this mess in the first place!”

The elf couldn’t argue with that.

“So what are you going to do when we get back?” he asked instead.

“Get me some fairy blood, and marry you.”