Chapter 20: The Raid (Part 3)

  We move through the village like ghosts, utilizing Vrazak's intimate knowledge of hidden pathways and blind spots in the usual patrol routes. The fighting has spread throughout the settlement now, with pockets of resistance and slaughter creating a deadly maze we need to navigate.

  My abdomen still throbs from the sword wound in my encounter with the Frogman hunter, each breath a sharp reminder of how close I'd come to death. My regenerative abilities keep at it miraculous work, but the wound was severe enough to have a lingering effect on my stamina and I have to pause frequently to steady myself.

  As we approach the eastern perimeter, I spot something that makes me pause. A group of Lizardmen servants are being herded away from the main battle by Shokar. His expression is grim but determined as he directs them towards what appears to be a sheltered storage area.

  For a moment, our eyes meet across the distance. His widen in recognition, and something passes between us, acknowledgment, perhaps, or warning. He gives an almost imperceptible nod before turning away to continue his duties as if he hadn't seen me.

  "Move," Vrazak urged, pulling me onward.

  As we navigate through the chaos, I notice Vrazak's eyes repeatedly glancing at Magba's salvaged pouch.

  "Interesting bag worker carries," Vrazak observes, his tone carefully neutral. "Frogman hunter had similar one, yes?"

  I instinctively move my hand to cover the pouch. "Just some herbs and trinkets. Nothing special."

  Vrazak's calculating gaze suggests he knows better. Although his eyes linger a bit longer, our immediate escape seems to take priority for now.

  The eastern wall had indeed been breached, though not by the Orcs. Scattered bodies of Frogmen and what appears to be Gnoll raiders suggest that a fierce fight had taken place here before moving elsewhere. The breach itself is unguarded, our perfect escape route.

  We rush to the gap, and just as we are about to reach it, disaster strikes.

  A hunting horn sounds uncomfortably close, followed by the distinctive yips and howls of Gnolls. A raiding party emerges from between two burning structures, dragging terrified villagers behind them, mostly Frogmen, but also some Lizardmen workers and even Croakers, bound with crude rope.

  "Back, fast!" Vrazak whispers hurryingly, pulling me into the shadows of a collapsed wall.

  We unfortunately are not quick enough. One of the Gnolls raises its canine head, nostrils flaring as it catches our scent. With a sharp bark that can only be a warning to its companions, it points directly at our hiding place.

  "Run!" Vrazak shouts, shoving me toward a narrow alley.

  We sprint through the burning village, the howls of the pursuing Gnolls growing louder behind us. My wound tears open slightly with the exertion, sending fresh waves of pain, but there's no time to stop.

  Vrazak's knowledge of the maze-like pathways gives us a slight advantage, but the Gnolls' superior speed has them steadily closing the gap.

  "This way!" Vrazak gasps, leading me down a narrow passage between two burning buildings. The flames lick at our scales as we pass, the heat searing but preferable to the fate that awaits us if we're caught.

  We emerge into a small courtyard where several paths converge. Behind us, the Gnolls' howls echo off the walls, seeming to come from multiple directions now. They're coordinating, trying to surround us.

  "Need to split up," Vrazak gasps as we reach a fork in the path, his hand briefly steadying himself against my shoulder. "Meet at eastern swamp marker, if you make it."

  Before I can argue, he darts down the left path with surprising agility for someone who seemed winded moments before. I take the right path, hoping the Gnolls would divide their forces to pursue both of us.

  Well, no such luck.

  As I run, I can hear at least three sets of paws pounding the wooden walkways behind me. My Lizardman body gives me speed and endurance beyond what I'd possessed as a human, but I’m still hindered by the injury and the Gnolls are natural predators, built for the chase.

  I wind through the village's eastern quarter, past workshops and storage buildings that have been abandoned in the chaos. Smoke from the burning structures creates a choking haze that burns my eyes and throat. I leap over fallen beams and dodge hanging debris, my pursuers matching my every move with predatory grace.

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  A wooden walkway ahead has partially collapsed, leaving a gap of several feet over a pit of flaming debris. Without hesitation, I launch myself across, my wounded side screaming in protest. I land hard on the far side, rolling to absorb the impact, but manage to keep moving.

  Behind me, the Gnolls clear the gap with ease, their powerful haunches propelling them across as if it were nothing. Their hunting cries grow more excited, knowing they're closing in on wounded prey.

  The path ends abruptly at a collapsed building, forcing me to scramble over burning debris. My scales blister from the heat as I claw my way over smoldering beams and twisted metal. The smoke chokes me, and I can feel my strength ebbing with each labored breath.

  I leap from the wreckage onto a lower platform, my legs nearly buckling as the impact sends fresh agony through my wounded torso. Rolling to absorb what I can of the fall, I force myself to keep moving.

  As I steady myself, my hand instinctively moves to check my belongings, and my blood runs cold. The pouch is gone. The map, Magba's precious collection and the mysterious glowing stones, all of it vanished.

  Have I lost it after the jump over the flaming debris? Or was it at the scramble through the collapsed building? With the Gnolls closing in, there's no time to search or retrace my steps.

  This loss hits me hard. Without the map, I have no idea how to even start navigating those caverns or where to go from here.

  More lost than ever, I continue on, hoping desperately that the smoke has at least confused my scent.

  And I really don't know where all this optimism comes from, because just when I turn a corner, a Gnoll appears directly in front of me, most probably having circled around to cut off my escape. I skid to a halt, then spin only to find two more approaching from behind.

  Damn, trapped again!

  The lead Gnoll advances slowly now, confident in its prey's capture. Its companions spread out, forming a semicircle that eliminates any possible escape route. They move with the coordinated precision of pack hunters who had done this many times before.

  I back up until I feel heat against my back, a burning wall that leaves me with nowhere to go. The hideous Gnolls close in, their muzzles pulled back with those sick mocking grins. They know that even if I could fight, three healthy Gnolls against one wounded Lizardman is no contest.

  But suddenly, from somewhere to my left, a figure bursts out of concealment.

  Vrazak! He'd doubled back to help me. His sudden attack catches the Gnolls by surprise, his claws finding the throat of the nearest one before the others could react.

  "Go!" he shouted, engaging the second Gnoll.

  I don't hesitate this time, darting past the distracted raiders and sprinting toward the eastern breach we'd spotted earlier. My legs feel like lead, but freedom is just meters away. Beyond the wall lay marshland and reed beds that can provide cover until I reach the deeper swamp.

  A pained cry draws my attention back. Having dispatched one Gnoll, Vrazak is now pinned beneath the remaining two. Despite his struggles, these are trained hunters and killers, and after the death of their companion, they no longer seem concerned with just capture.

  My survival instinct urges me to continue running. A gravely wounded Minor Lizardman surely stands no chance of altering this outcome.

  Yet, my human side resists the idea of abandoning an ally, especially one who returned to help me. Even if it means certain death.

  Grabbing a piece of flaming plank, I charge right back toward the Gnolls.

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  The sudden attack catches them completely off guard, allowing me to strike the back of the nearest raider with all my remaining strength. The creature falls with a yelp of pain, its thick fur catching fire from the burning wood.

  I swing the blazing plank again, the flames spreading across the Gnoll's back as it writhes in agony. The acrid smell of burning fur fills the air, and blisters form on my hands from gripping the makeshift weapon, but the hyena bastard is now fully engulfed.

  Howling desperately and covered in flames, the beast rolls frantically in a futile attempt to extinguish itself, one more down for the count.

  Now free from one opponent, I see Vrazak struggling as the remaining Gnoll's powerful jaws clamp around his arm, teeth sinking deep into the flesh. Blood flows freely from the wounds, and I can see Vrazak struggle weakening rapidly.

  I dash forward and strike fiercely at the Gnoll's exposed eyes with my claws, raking across its face and leaving deep gouges. The creature yelps and releases its grip just enough for Vrazak to wrench his mauled arm free.

  "Forget the fight, run now before more come!" Vrazak gasps, clutching his bleeding limb as he sprints toward the breach.

  The injured Gnoll, bleeding but far from defeated, lunges at me with renewed fury. Its claws rake across my chest, adding fresh wounds to my collection, but I manage to dodge the worst of the attack. I try to follow Vrazak's escape route, but the delay proves costly.

  More Gnolls have arrived, alerted by their packmates' cries of battle and pain. I count at least four fresh hunters, their amber eyes glowing with bloodlust as they assess the scene. Two of them immediately move to cover the breach while the others begin to surround me, cutting off any path to freedom.

  Damn it, so close too. With desperate strength and speed born of pure survival instinct, I lash out at my attackers. I manage to hurt one of them with a desperate claw, but there are simply too many.

  A heavy blow to the back of my head sends me staggering. Another catches me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs. As I fall to my knees, my vision blurring, rough hands seizes me and binds my limbs with practiced efficiency.

  As I'm being dragged, still dazed from all the injuries, I catch a glimpse of Vrazak through the breach. He'd made it to the reed beds beyond the wall and was disappearing into the marshland, his wounded arm cradled against his chest.

  But as he pauses at the edge of visibility, something glints in his uninjured hand. The familiar leather of Magba's pouch, intact and obviously heavy with its contents. Our eyes meet for a brief moment across the distance and I see something like regret in his expression before he turns away.