Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) by Craig Halloran Page B

the ground and crushed them in his hands.
    “What about his wounds?” I said.
    “It will live.”
    We grabbed the net and bound them up. Saty rs―little taller than Dwarves, not as wide―weren’t very formidable without their pipes.
    Still, I was a little surprised Brenwar hadn’t killed them.
    “So, you think they won’t come after us again?” I said. “There could be more, you know. Maybe an entire herd of them lurks in this crater.”
    “Then I suggest we get out of here before they get out of this,” he said, storming off.
    I guessed it was my turn to follow. I gave the Satyrs one last look. They never looked as bad as they seemed. They looked almost peaceful. Their faces calm and expressionless. I just hoped I’d never hear those pipes playing again. After Brenwar I went.
    ***
    We found a camp.
    “Look at this ,” Brenwar said. He was kneeling down beside some dead Goblins. “Look at how clean that cut is. That’s Elven steel. Shum must be close by.”
    I inspected the Gnolls. Three of them were dead. Big ones too. All bigger than Shum. I could tell by the dirt it had been a hard fought battle. A nasty one, judging by the blood.
    “Looks like he went this way,” I said, “but I don’t think he was followed.”
    “Hmmm,” Brenwar said, “look at this.” He held out what looked like a crossbow, but the wood was twisted.
    I picked up a bent bolt. “Now this is something. Pretty impressive.” I waggled it in Brenwar’s face. “Wouldn’t you say?”
    “ Pretty sad if you ask me. Pot Belly must not be much of a fighter if he can’t get the upper hand on the likes of these. Using magic. Pah!”
    “Of course,” I said , rolling my eyes behind his back. “What was I thinking? Let’s go.”
    I took the lead this time. My keen eye picked up drops of blood on the ground, the needles, and the stones. There were footprints now. Many. I could smell the women. Some of them still touched by the natural fragrances of the flower and vegetable gardens of the village.
    “Brenwar,” I stopped. Hunched down. Something was coming.
    Brenwar leaned over my shoulder. Farther down the crater a large group of people was coming. We waited. Closer and closer they came. The silhouettes became familiar. One, taller than the rest, was limping. Wheezing a little.
    “Shum!” I said , dashing up to him.
    Two women were holding him up. His long arms draped over the ir shoulders.
    “He save d us,” one woman said. “Saved us all. Killed all those nasty dogs and Goblins!”
    Indeed, he had saved them all. Every last one by the looks of it. The women all chattered amon g themselves. Excited. Free.
    “Shum,” I said, bracing him over my shoulder. “Are you alright? Can you make it?”
    “Just,” he said, wheezing. “Just get me out of here, Dragon. Take me to my horse.”
    “Pah!” Brenwar said , rolling his eyes at me. “I bet he wants us to carry him, too.”
    ***
    The brisk wind picked up, chilling Bayzog’s bones. The warmth from the Legionnaire fire looked good right now, but he remained back. In the dark, peering towards the crater.
    “Come , Bayzog,” Sasha said, taking his arm. “You need some food. The soldiers have plenty and their tales are very exciting.”
    He turned his eyes towards the Ettins that now sat on the edge of the camp. They kept looking into the sky. What they were looking for, he couldn’t imagine.
    “I appreciate it,’ he said. “I really do. Perhaps you can bring me something.”
    “As you wish, Bayzog.” She pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
    Being around men left Bayzog a little uncomfortable. He was more Elf than Man, and never felt his human part was well received. And he didn’t have the color of the humans either, at least not in terms of personality. He was resolved. They were vibrant. Most of them anyway.
    Staring into the sky , he noticed the dark clouds seemed to lower. Like a fog that fell rather than lifted.
    “That’s odd.”
    It wasn’t