Dawn was just a few short hours away when a chorus of howling let Bjorn know that he was on the right track. Before long, he saw the flickering of a campfire coming from a shadowy area that looked a bit like a grove in the dim light. He had never really been out this way before, and the grouping of trees looked a bit strange to him. Generally speaking, trees did not regularly grow in big groups on the prairie, unless someone had put forth the effort to cultivate an orchard.
Bjorn padded toward the trees as silently as he could, gripping his scythe to help ground his mounting anxiety. He crept around trunks just barely wide enough to conceal his body, peeking around before he went to the next one. When he was close enough to spy what was going on in the center of this little grove, he gaped curiously at the sight. Inside was a spacious clearing where a large fire was burning. Gnolls, at least forty of them, were gathered here, but not very close to the fire. Most of them sat around the edge of the clearing, the nearest one no more than ten feet from where Bjorn stood.
Most intriguing, however, were the two large gnolls that were pacing around the fire. They were staring at one another with hatred in their eyes, and their lips were curled back baring their sharp incisors. Suddenly, one lunged at the other, and the two gnolls were a blur of flashing teeth and claws. They were snarling, and Bjorn could hear their jaws snapping even over the cheers of the other creatures. He could see from the condition of the two fighters that this battle had been going on for some time. Both came up from this flurry with a few less patches of fur and a few more bleeding wounds.
At some other time in his life, Bjorn would have found this fascinating, but he had come here searching for these very creatures with a purpose. Turning his attention from the dominance struggle, he reached into his pocket and drew out the stick of dynamite. This was surely the best way to start things. With a good aim he might easily take out half of these creatures. Now the only question was, where the hell was the fuse?
Bjorn pulled the plastic caps off of both ends and felt for some kind of thing that he could light. There was nothing, at least, nothing that he could figure out. Then it struck him that it didn't really matter; he didn't have any matches or a lighter. Even if there was a fuse, he wouldn't be able to light it anyway. Bjorn clenched his jaw and looked back to the clearing.
The gnoll closest to him was not paying attention to the fight. It was sniffing the air suspiciously. It turned around and started to walk toward Bjorn's hiding place. Quickly ducking his head back behind the tree, the young man cursed silently. After a night of walking, he was sure his scent hung thickly about him to a creature with a sense of smell as good as a wild dog's. Bjorn's heart was pounding, but still he held his breath. If he was discovered before he wanted to be, he would have to do some pretty quick thinking. From the other side of his hiding place he heard an interrogative growling.
Risking a peek around the tree, he saw that the curious gnoll was dangerously close, but its back was turned as it explained to another in the crowd that it could smell something. Although he did not understand the creatures' unattractive language, Bjorn knew that the situation was not going in his favor. His mind raced as he strained to come up with some idea that would help him initiate this in a way that gave him the upper hand.
Suddenly, it came to him. He wasn't sure if it would work, but he had run out of time. As the other gnoll joined the first in its investigation, Bjorn stepped out brandishing the glock in one hand and his stick of dynamite in the other. He aimed at the first creature and pulled the trigger. To his dismay, and almost complete shock, there was simply a clicking sound and nothing more. The two gnolls seemed equally as shocked, but they recovered quickly and advanced on the human with teeth bared.
Bjorn knew he had no choice but to go ahead, now that he had revealed himself. He threw the stick of dynamite up and over the heads of the confused gnolls, who watched it sail over helplessly. Bjorn followed its path with his eyes as well and noted with satisfaction that its trajectory was going to land it somewhere in the fire. He quickly ducked back behind the tree and flinched.
But there was no kaboom. He had expected to hear the explosion of a stick of dynamite, but all that happened was a crackling sound and the snarling murmur of many surprised gnolls. Suddenly, the shadows of the grove lit up with a reddish light, and Bjorn looked around the tree in confusion.
On the edge of the fire, burning very brightly, was a red light that flickered and danced and threw off sparks. The gnolls seemed momentarily mesmerized by the flame-engulfed road flare, as did Bjorn, but the urgency of the situation forced the young man to shake off the disheartening feeling brought on by his ignorance and bad fortune. Not ready to give up on the gun, he looked and felt for something that seemed like the hammer. He'd read about revolvers in a western comic when he was a kid, aside from that, he had used a shotgun. He figured this firearm had to be similar. As he fiddled with the weapon, the two gnolls that had discovered him tore their attention away from the sputtering flare and resumed their advance.
Things were deteriorating quickly. Bjorn cursed his luck as he shifted his attention from moving backward, away from the two creatures, to desperately twisting and pulling at all angles of the gun to find some other mechanism to make it fire. He looked up again at the gnolls and noticed the wicked gleam in their eyes as they realized that he was beginning to panic. They crouched down low, their powerful hind legs twitching in anticipation. Barking out in triumph, they leapt at him simultaneously.
In an instant, something slid and clicked, then sprung back into place. Completely on instinct, Bjorn held up the glock and squeezed the trigger repeatedly. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots rang out, and the two gnolls changed momentum in midair. Howling in pain, they both scurried back to the crowd, which now had its entire attention focused on him.
Not unexpectedly, chaos broke out everywhere. Gnolls came charging out at Bjorn from seemingly all directions. He backed up against a tree and quickly emptied the clip in his glock. Fifteen bullets seemed far too few to him just now. He did have that other magazine in his pocket, but he certainly didn't have the time to reload. He pushed the button to eject the spent clip and pocketed the glock, while pulling out the scythe, which he wore slung over his shoulder.
It wasn't fast enough. Too late, Bjorn noticed several arrows flying over the heads of the approaching pack. One of the arrows clipped a creature that was almost about to jump on him, but the others were true. With uncanny accuracy, five arrows struck him directly in the chest. All he could do was flinch bemusedly when, inexplicably, all five missiles bounced off of him and fell to the floor.
"What the hell?" Bjorn asked as about half of the gnolls eyed him a bit more warily. The other half charged ahead, too bloodthirsty to notice that he had just turned aside several arrows.
Not wanting to question this glimmer of good fortune too thoroughly, Bjorn set himself to receive the charge of those creatures that were rushing toward him. He caught two of them with the long blade of the scythe as they crashed into him. One of them lost its snout and keeled over, while the other turned away whining loudly. A few of the creatures managed to get in some hits, some with claws, others with rusty short swords, but none of them fazed the human.
Gaining confidence with this strange impervious phenomenon, Bjorn waded through, swinging his scythe this way and that. The gnolls soon began to realize that this was no ordinary opponent. This human was one they had to be wary of if they wanted to survive this encounter. Little by little, each one of them began to coordinate their attacks and dodges so that they remained well clear of the swinging edge of the harvest blade.
Bjorn noticed their increasing reluctance to attack him and could not help but laugh out loud. "Ah, yes!" he shouted. "It seems I have the upper hand after all!"
The gnolls, now realizing that their attacks were basically pointless, simply formed a ring around him. They watched him for any change or sign of weakness. None of them believed that a single man could defeat all of them. So, they just waited hungrily for the next rush.
Bjorn grinned and reached into his pocket to produce the glock. With one finger, he held it against the handle of his scythe as he reached in the other pocket for the fully loaded magazine. It was awkward, but still none of the gnolls dared approach him. He slid the clip into the weapon with a click. But now he was stuck. The gun was loaded, but as he had learned earlier, it would not fire until there was a bullet in the chamber. Throwing caution to the wind, he dropped his scythe to the ground and, in one swift motion, pulled back the slide and began to fire.
Seeing Bjorn drop that accursed blade provoked an instant reaction from the gnolls. Despite the fact that bullets were flying at them, they drew in on their prey. A few of them were hit as they advanced and fell over or ran away yelping, but there were always more to take their place. Before he could empty this clip, the gnolls descended upon him. He dove for his scythe as they dove for him.
This time, however, the gnolls' attack was a bit more successful. As they piled on him, his hand barely wrapped around his bladed weapon, Bjorn could feel the sting of a few raking claws and poking swords. Whatever had given him skin like a stone had worn off. He was now susceptible to all their attacks, and the gnolls could tell; they went at him with a renewed frenzy. Bjorn soon found himself overwhelmed, and as they beat and cut him mercilessly, his submerging consciousness finally berated him for his foolishness.
No comments:
Post a Comment