Harold's Tale of Misery Book 2 Chapter 4

Chapter four: Misery Continues
As the buzzards surrounded Astar, a shield of bodies, the forest lit up with the forms of thousands of Wisps. Buzzing angrily, they flared their bodies, raising the temperature to uncomfortable levels.
In seconds they had surrounded the birds, each wisp flowing around its partners in a wondrous dance of death. An echoing music surged from the Wisps, haunting melody drowning out the fear filled cries of the birds.
Chattering wildly to one another they started to compress their sphere of death, moving with a fluid grace that eluded away from the lethal nature of their flight. The birds shivered against one another. Backing up, cowering in fear, the light of their foes reflected in their eyes.
From within, Astir turned to Solini, the buzzards was frozen faced with an enemy his strength and speed could not defeat. Gulping down panicked breath, Solini unfroze, trembling against his oldest friend. His mind was filled with the dread of what was to come.
Burning feathers set the air alight with the smell of acidic smoke and cooking flesh as the Buzzards broke from the circle. Squawking, the birds flew at the wall of twirling Wisps heading towards the most terrifying death that a bird can face. Fire drove the dread deep within the birds, taking their pride and power and replacing it with the basic blanket of mindless horror
Astar could see what was about to happen, and despite his pleas and prayers he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Some succeeded in breaking through the wall, but only in body, their souls deep in the afterlife before their smoking corpses hit the forest floor.
Astar and Solini stood, fear being swept away by revulsion and the horribly empty feeling of failure. Their entire family was falling before them.
Anger broke through, mixed with the deadly cocktail of other emotions flowing through the Eagles mind, the result was less than he expected.
An ear rending scream erupted from the bird, his final breath, his last curse
“Damn you Harold, I despise ducks!”

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Harold dodged to the right spinning entirely, his mace flying up to his side to parry the branch coming to his head. The blow never came, branch slashing around, and then back in towards him from the other side.
Harold ducked, just avoiding the shock of the connection. He lashed out wildly with his mace, the branch easily knocking it aside, the collision sending stunning shockwaves up the ducks arms.
Panting Harold jumped back, hoping to gain a moment, but the branch returned, a stabbing thrust at the ducks chest. Harold dropped his mace and fell to the floor, gasping at the ease with which he was defeated.
Cintra giggled wildly, whizzing about in the air, clapping his appreciation.  Isis grinned at the duck, his arms, appendages made of pure energy, slowly melting back into his lithe body.
“Snakes are extremely agile. We are not about the extended fight. We come in quick, and kill you and then leave. We are well designed silent assassins, silent when we so wish, small, fast”, Isis looked appraisingly at Harold. “You are unfortunate in that you do not have my species’ abilities, but I am sure that we can work out something. You have a basic style that will be of use against those that are untrained, and you are pretty fast, though that spiked log you insist on carrying completely nullifies this.”
“We are about four hours from the Scemcic River. There we will be able to stop at the Travellers Rest, re-stock supplies and pick you up a sword. “
Harold looked up uncomfortably, he used a mace because you didn’t have to know what you were doing, just aim in the general direction of the enemy you want to kill and then swing with as much strength as you can muster.
“I don’t know how to use a sword” Harold murmured, causing Cintra to drop two feet from the air, laughing explosively
“You not know mace either” the Wisp gasped, Isis grinning at Harold noticed his expression darken “sword much easier. Move fast, need not much power. Better for blocks. Good for cutting”
The Wisp flew off, speeding into the edge of the forest they had just left.
“Keep the mace if you like, but I will teach you how to use the sword. Swords are of far more use in the life you are about to lead.”
Harold nodded and stepped back towards camp. He was tired and at the lowest he had been since his parents deaths. Leaving the forest was a blur to him. Nothing much sat in his memory any more, not since he had realised that the baby was not him. That Oxyura was not the love of his life as he had at one point thought her to be.
She had brought him through the most awful period of his life. She had given him something to focus on after his parents had been brutally killed. She had also helped him remember that there was good in the world, helped him overcome the evil of the cube.
It had all been a lie though. The evil girl had come to him in his hour of weakness and told him she was pregnant, failing to mention that the baby was not to be his. Who the actual father was, was not something that Harold had been able to even guess at. Not that it mattered now. Both girl and baby were dead to him. He was now once again a single guy out on the prowl.
A pathetic grin crossed his face as the thought passed his mind. He collapsed back next to the fire, taking a bowl full of the stew that was cooking over the fire.
Turning back to the snake, Harold grunted “How much further once we get to the Travellers Rest?”
“We have a choice to make then. The Travellers Rest is in the shadow of the Holt Mountains. We can follow the river up to its source and then head through the mountain range, which will likely mean three or four weeks difficult travel, or we can circle the mountains, and come through to the keep from the Salavar Cliffs. That will take longer, but the journey will be much more pleasant. I will be able to help you get used to sword play before you reach the keep, about a month and a half or two months if we go that way.”
Harold nodded once more, staring in the direction they were heading; far to the north lay the Travellers Rest. Finishing the stew, Harold cleaned the bowl with some grass, placing it back in his pack.
Cintra had returned with two sticks, each three and a half foot in length, strong and straight.
“You learn now. Isis show you sword. Cintra watch.”
The Wisp giggled again, throwing the sticks to Harold’s feet. Harold groaned as Isis walked over, his energy arms already formed as he picked up one of the sticks.
Harold got to his feet, holding his ‘sword’ in his right hand.
“You are not a snake. Your feet are one of your biggest weaknesses. You must be sure footed, for if you fall of you are tripped, you are dead.” The snake flourished his sword before Harold, grinning slightly. “Let’s see what you’re capable of then mister duck.”

Harold swung around, sword flying at Isis’ head. The snake swerved back, avoiding the blow before countering to Harold’s right lower back.
Barely Harold managed to block the attack, stepping back once more. Harold was completely outclassed. Playing with a stick against pretend enemies in the river is completely dissimilar from the real thing.
Harold grasped the stick with both hands bringing it up in a sweeping action, completely missing the snake, who dodged to the right. Anger beginning to blossom anew, Harold slashed downwards at the snakes head. A quick parry left Harold overbalanced, leaving Isis free to lash out at the ducks legs, causing him to fall.
Instead of lying there as he had before, Harold rolled to the side, away from the snake. Getting to a crouch, Harold dived at the snake, the sheer recklessness of the attack surprising Isis. The snake unfroze, himself diving away from the flying duck. This was much safer for the snake as snakes are ground dwellers.
His tail flew out and clipped the ducks side as he flew passed, causing him to tumble awkwardly to the ground and stay there.
Isis stood over him, Cintra laughing merrily in the background.
“Come” he said “Let me teach you some stances and attacks”

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Gunther glared at the tit, foul vermin of the skies.
“You say the party has not been through here”
“No, no snake, no duck. I would have seen them. I remember all that pass through my route”
The squirrel smiled to himself. Yes, the tit no doubt did remember most that had passed through the trade route, especially those like the snake. Isis had an honest face, and an unwillingness to cause others distress. He also had a vast amount of money. Yes, he would be remembered here if he had passed through.
Pushing past the tit, Gunther picked up a pie from one of the stalls, dropping a copper piece in its place. He stalked to the Rest, anger slowly melting away as the warm silky taste of the cherry pie soothed his hunger.
It would be foolish to head off to try to find them. They would come here. There is nowhere else they can go.
Yes, Gunther would wait here. There was plenty to watch, if you enjoyed street theatre as much as Gunther did, and the pies here were just to die for.
He licked the last of the cherry filling from his hand as he walked into his quarters, this could be fun