This is a first draft of a story set in the world of Greyhawk.
It is based on a home campaign so some of the people, places and things
may be different. Any helpful comments or suggestions are very welcome.
Thanks
Jason Zavoda
The Hill Giant Chief - Nosnra's Saga Part CXXXIX
They cut a path through the thick underbrush leaving a scar across
the slope as if a giant snake had scraped its belly over the ground. It
had not been difficult to lower themselves down the crevice but it had
taken time. The sun was past its height and sinking behind the hill, but
there were some hours left before the night would fall.
The ranger grimaced at the tracks they left. He kept up a nervous
watch and tried to guide them down the slope, searching for the safest
way between the boulders and slabs of rocks or through the bushes,
sharpthorned mostly, that clung to the hillside.
Some stumbled, an orc fell to his knees and dropped the end of
the pole that he carried on his shoulder. The scout Derue crashed
heavily to the ground and gave out a muffled scream. Gytha ran to him and
checked the ropes that tied his hands and legs.
"Set him down, carefully!" she told the orcs.
Talberth gestured to them and the orcs obeyed.
"Gytha," asked Talberth, "why are we stopping?"
"These ropes are cutting at him." she said. "he can't be kept
tied up all the time, the ropes will cripple his hands and feet, kill him
maybe."
Talberth scowled. Better to kill the scout and be done with him
he would liked to have said, but he knew Gytha would not approve.
"That had better wait till we are on less precarious ground."
said Talberth.
They were halfway down the slope, the hilltop now high above them.
The grade was not so steep but there was little cover where they stood.
Not far below the grade lessened and the trees began till they filled the
valley and ran up the opposing slope. It was all hills and valleys in
the lands around the steading.
"We go, we go." one of the orcs dared to say to Talberth. The
fear that they felt for the mage was not as great as that which the
thought of the giants instilled.
"Gytha, is there anything that you can do for him while he
is still bound." Talberth said to her. "We must be going and we cannot
untie him here."
"I will try to heal him, but I do not like this," she said, "it
is too much like torture."
"It is the best we can do," said Talberth, "it is a mercy, at
least as much as we can offer."
"I know, but I do not like it." Gytha bent down and put
one hand on Derue's wrists where the rope dug past a leather scrap
they'd wrapped around his arms. They'd tried to keep the rope from biting,
but the leather was pulled tight and had rubbed the flesh raw, a small
trickle of blood flowed from his wrists. "Mercy for the vanquished dear
Saint, mercy for one taken by the dark, gift me with your healing
strength."
A gold-green light suffused the wounds, they healed but a red
flash struck out like a whip, a deep fiery red like metal pulled from
a bed of coals, barbed with flickering needle spikes. It struck the
cleric and knocked her back, a line of burnt and bleeding flesh
appeared along her hand and arm.
"Gytha!" Talberth cried out in alarm.
Ghibelline came running over to where they stood. He had moved
ahead, born to the woods, he helped to find the best way down the hill,
but Telenstil had noticed the others lagging behind sent him back to
find out what was wrong.
"Gytha!" Ghibelline repeated Talberth's cry. The two men, though
one an elf, stooped beside the fallen cleric.
Gytha waved them both away and stood up on her own. "I'm fine,
that spirit of evil inside of him struck back, it did not like the
feel of the Saint's power."
* * *
(To Be Continued)
