Gods of Blood and Fire - A. J. Strickler Page 0,110

around the area. “Scavs.” All three of the former Harsh Coast residents said at once.

“I don’t believe they live in this wood,” Ansel said. Cromwell kicked the pot off the fire and a filthy stew, whose main ingredient was a human foot spilled on the forest floor. “They are everywhere, just like a plague. I have killed hundreds of them in the mountains of Tora.”

Endra tried not to look at the foot. “Aye, we even ran across them in Sorrack, a vile race of creatures. Even the frozen wastes of my homeland didn’t keep them away.”

K’xarr spit on the ground. “I’m sure they planned to come back and finish their meal. Let’s find a place to hide and wait. I don’t want them following us making any kind of trouble.”

Everyone agreed so they took cover lying behind a small rise close enough they could watch the camp. Within an hour three of the dog-headed creatures came walking back into their camp. The armor they wore was not made by Scavs, it was of much better quality as were the weapons they carried. “Oh Gods, they stink,” Endra whispered. “I can smell them from here.”

Cromwell jumped up and charged the little group of dog men. He was upon them before they could draw their weapons. He cut one in half at the waist and kicked another to the ground. He turned for the third but K’xarr had already gotten there and killed it.

Both warriors looked at the creature Cromwell had kicked. It was laying on its back, trying to slowly crawl away. “Please no kill me I surrender,” it said through its slavering jaws. They reminded K’xarr of his people’s war dogs except for their all-too-human eyes. “I would no kill me, my masters will avenge me death.”

Cromwell kicked it in the face, breaking off one of the exposed canines that jutted out of the bottom of its mouth. It shook its head and whimpered.

Ansel and Endra join the two warriors standing next to the Scav.

“Gods, they are so ugly,” Endra said.

“K’xarr, what’s that emblem on its armor.” Ansel pointed to the design on the creature’s breast plate. It was a black circle with an upside-down five-pointed star. Arranged along the lines that made up the star were thirteen skulls.

“What’s that symbol?” K’xarr asked, threating the thing with his sword.

“It is the mark of my masters, the circle, they will kill you if you hurt me human.”

Ansel rubbed his chin. “You serve the Circle of Thirteen?”

The thing smiled, making its face look hellish. “Yes, old man, as all will serve one day.”

Cromwell’s sword swooped down and caved its thick skull in splattering everyone with blood.

“What the hell, Cromwell?” K’xarr yelled.

“I didn’t like the way it was looking at us.”

“We were questioning it, you stupid oaf, no one said kill it yet.” K’xarr emphasized his displeasure by poking the Toran in the chest.

Cromwell grabbed his finger and squeezed. “They eat human flesh, K’xarr, why are you even talking to it?”

K’xarr jerked his hand back. “That fucking hurt, you shit bucket.”

Cromwell gave him a friendly push back. “You know, I don’t like to be poked.” Ansel looked at Endra curiously. “This happens from time to time,” she said.

“Well, let’s hope that thing was lying. I don’t want to deal with anyone or anything that serves the Circle of Thirteen.”

“They’re just a bunch of wizards, aren’t they?” K’xarr said, rubbing his finger.

Ansel took a deep breath. “A bunch of wizards powerful enough to defy the Church and alter the fates of Kingdoms.”

Endra stepped between them. “Can we talk about this later? We need to get moving.”

K’xarr looked at his finger then at Cromwell. “You’re right, Endra, this Circle of Thirteen is nothing to us. We’re here to get Kian and that’s it.”

Cromwell spit on the Scavs’ bodies and they headed north.

Siro could not believe it, for five nights they fought off the dead and the ghouls he had summoned with the Horn of Nillus. He had even sent some of his special people to attack them. They had destroyed them as well. If the ghosts of the wood would heed his summons, things would have been very different, but they never did, the old ghosts were just too strong.

Now he had to tell the master he had failed. The Half Elf’s friends were only hours away and he had nothing else to try. He walked up the stone stairs to the master’s private quarters with his head hanging, nearly in tears. He feebly knocked