Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,45

jaws that could break even Elven bones like matchsticks. Smaller but more savage, boggins were cousins to the larger boggarts.

“Firbolg, too,” Jareth offered.

At a surprised glance from the two Elves he added, “I served for a time with the Hunters.”

It wasn’t required of the general run of wizards - although Jareth personally thought it should be. Such duty was required of itinerant wizards, those who moved about the Kingdoms at random, serving where they were most needed. That was how Jareth wanted to serve and so he had prepared appropriately.

With a nod Elon looked to Colath and then to Jareth, impressed and encouraged.

“Well enough,” he said, satisfied.

None of the creatures was stupid, the larger boggarts and firbolg having intelligence close to that of man. It was unwise by far to underestimate them or their cunning.

The attack when it came was still an unpleasant surprise.

With reflexes not unlike that of the great hunting cats they somewhat resembled, firbolg exploded out of the cover of the brush, one leaping from concealment in the branches of a tree - the group hunting as a pride, not as solitary males.

So quickly Jareth’s eyes could barely credit it, Elon and Colath were back to back, their horses spinning on their back hooves. Swords lashed out. Blood flew as they struck.

Then he was too busy to watch.

He sent a mage-bolt flying past Colath to fry a firbolg in midair as it leaped from another tree at Colath’s head. The creature fell to the ground, the stench of burnt fur and scorched meat filling the air.

Beneath Elon’s knees, his horse spun and kicked in tandem with Colath’s as he cut another of the firbolg in two and Colath took the limbs of another. Jareth sent mage-bolts flashing into the underbrush.

In an instant - faced with fierce opposition - the firbolg vanished, to skulk and hunt them from cover.

Elon knew the sounds of battle and the scent of blood would likely draw the boggarts as well. He looked to Colath.

Sliding his longsword into his scabbard, Colath reached for his bow, strung it swiftly. While the bow wasn’t his best weapon as a Hunter it was still one of his better skills.

Nocking an arrow Colath let fly into a thick batch of brush and was rewarded by a yowl of pain. There was a flurry of movement away from them as they kicked their horses into a gallop that wasn’t quite flight, keeping their weapons to hand.

Young Jareth turned in his saddle to send a burst of mage fire along their back trail to discourage pursuit.

The pride of firbolg hadn’t given up - Elon knew - they’d simply gone to cover, looking for another opportunity to strike.

Sure enough, a firbolg burst from the brush, going for their horses’ legs. Elon swung low from the saddle to take it with his shortsword as Colath loosed another arrow at those concealed in the brush.

In an instant it was clear it had been a feint as much as a strike and Colath’s blood went cold at the threat to his true-friend.

He saw the firbolg erupt from cover, its claws rake for Elon’s throat as Elon straightened, his sword coming up to parry the thing. His heart in his throat in fear, Colath knew the angle was wrong; he couldn’t get a clear shot at the thing in time. As fast as Elon was, it would still be close.

There was only time for Elon to see the firbolg’s claws rake for him, to feel Jareth draw magic as Elon whipped his sword up to block the claws. A burst of searing heat blew past him to take the firbolg in the face and send it spinning away. Wizard’s magic.

Giving a nod of acknowledgement and thanks to Jareth, Elon pulled himself up into the saddle.

Heart hammering, Jareth nodded.

It had been a near thing.

Camp was set at the very edge of the rocky, mountainous Dwarven domain. Miners and builders of stone, the Dwarves rarely took a step out of their burrows of rock, their deep Caverns.

It was a barren land to be sure; sere, gray and brown, but the layers of stone and rock had their own stark beauty. Here was the coppery rust of iron, there a sparkle of quartz and the thin white line of marble, the golden shimmer of sandstone. It wasn’t hard to see why the Dwarves loved it.

Leaning a shoulder against the tall boulder that shielded one side of their campsite Elon looked out over the green valley stretched out