Fleas - Songs of the Gnolls I

THE GREAT WALL 5.6

The Wind Paws had moved far enough north to afford a bite to eat. Below the wall, the villages were small, and above, the guard was thin. For the first time in several days, they felt a sense of freedom. Fátrwa set an anchor with a rope tied to the inner edge of the wall, and they lowered themselves down. One by one, they descended into the darkness like birds of prey. Human vision was weak, and they had to help themselves with torches. That made it easy to spot where they were. Fátrwa smelled a delicious pig nearby. They approached it like shadows and killed it before it had time to squeal. Just for fun they killed another one, but this one did complain. They hastily dragged it under the dark cloak and, once safe, devoured it ravenously. Before climbing, they took advantage of the quiet of the barren space to talk.

"How much longer do we have y wait?" Asked Vrea, the youngest of the Wind Paws.

"I imagine a day or two, if everything goes according to plan," Fátrwa answered.

"Perhaps we should return to the main entrance," suggested Nirrtik, the second in rank. "If the plan is to open the gate when the army arrives, we should be as close as possible."

"The main entrance is the most heavily guarded," Fátrwa replied. "The more guards, the more likely we are to be caught. But here we can be quiet and regain our strength. When the time comes, we will descend the wall and climb near the entrance. To do this, we will use the ropes we placed near the windows."

"Assuming they haven't been spotted," Nirrtik continued.

"Because of the angle at which I've placed them, it's impossible for them to see them from above," argued another. "Nor from below, unless you know they're there. Stop being pessimistic. Nothing bad will happen."

They all looked exhausted. Constantly having to watch their steps was tiring for anyone, even for assassins as talented as they were. The nights of sleep were short, and the days of wakefulness were very long and boring. It had also been hot all the time, except for one day when the goddess Storm had blessed them with rain. Then they had had water, shade, and a constant sound to camouflage them.

"I would suggest to sleep here," Fátrwa said, sad and tired, "in the peace of the land and the protection of the bushes, but in the neighboring village they will notice the absence of their pigs. They may blame the wolves, but they will still want their heads. Let's go back to the wall. One last time."

They climbed the rope. Fátrwa went first. She looked in both directions to check for lights, then croaked like a crow, the signal for the others to climb. Nearby was a keep. They would rest over it, as was their custom. Nirrtik began the final climb when Vrea, the youngest, stopped. Fátrwa tapped the ground three times with her paw nail. It was her way of asking what was going on. She heard a hiss, then the sound of flesh being pierced. Nirrtik's claws slipped from the stone of the keep and his lifeless body fell to the savannah. Fátrwa drew her curved dagger. Another bolt flew close to her, but did not hit. The fading light barely illuminated their forms. From the southern tower came footsteps, also from the northern one, where they were going to rest rest. The humans knew they would be seen with the torches, so they approached in the dark.

"It seemed to me that food was scarce," explained a human in heavy plate armor and a large shield. I knew it was a bad idea to let these infectious creatures pass through. What was the plan? If you tell me everything, I will kill you painlessly."

The rope dangling westward to freedom was only a few steps away, but nothing would prevent them from cutting it once they were clinging to it. Fátrwa understood that she had to sacrifice herself. She whistled twice. Another bolt flew nearby. They gradually approached the rope. Always with short steps and in a defensive position.

"I hope you're not planning on jumping," the human mocked sarcastically as he quickened his pace.

Fátrwa began to sing. Two others accompanied her. Their song could put anyone to sleep who heard it, but they didn't have enough time.

"Now!" Commanded the matriarch.

Fátrwa threw the curved knife straight at the guard's head. The guard, whose reflexes were superior to those of any human, raised his shield. The blade dug into the wood. Fátrwa drew another. Meanwhile, the Wind Paws hurried down the rope.

"They're escaping! Shoot!

Almost all of them were down. From the north, a guard rushed at them, but Vrea deflected the spear and plunged the dagger into his throat with one swift movement. Then she lifted the dead man's spear with her paw and hurled it at the one leading them, who was approaching from the south. It hit him in the shoulder.

"Go!" She shouted to Fátrwa.

Fátrwa began to descend. The rope made her gloves so hot that they were nothing but shreds of leather on the last stretch. Feeling her pads raw, she let herself fall, but she was higher than she thought, and broke her right leg when she hit the ground. The other Wind Paws came to her aid.

"Halt, Vrea is missing."

The hyaenids looked at each other and ignored the command. It was too late for Fátrwa to understand that she had just sacrificed herself. Because of the angle and the poor visibility of the battlements at night, they could not hit them, but that did not stop them from trying. Arrows flew in all directions in the stony darkness. The strongest hyaenid charged her on her back. They had to get to their own as quickly as possible. They had to warn them, for soon all they had done, all the traps, all the subterfuges, all the ropes, would be discovered. If that happened, all would have been in vain, and the lives of Vrea and Nirrtik would have been sacrificed for nothing.