The Floodgate

"Might as well take advantage of the dragon's path." Themo gave his lizard a sharp nudge with both heels. The creature took off like a loosed arrow. Themo jerked back in the saddle, swearing as he struggled to keep his seat.

Startled by the impulsive act, Matteo had no time to shout a warning. He lunged for his friend and seized Themo's tunic as he rode past. He dug in his heels and managed to drag the big jordain off the lizard.

Themo fell hard and came up mad. He launched a wild swing at Matteo, connecting with a blow to the jaw that sent the smaller man reeling.

"I don't need your help to fall off the damn lizard!"

Matteo scrambled to his feet in time to intercept Themo's second swing. He caught the big man's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He spun Themo around to face the path. "See those spider webs at the end of the passage?"

The big jordain squinted at the layers of delicate netting spanning the end of the passage. "So?"

Before Matteo could speak, the «web» enfolded the charging lizard and jerked it up into a tree.

"Oh. Not your usual web," Themo observed, glancing sheepishly back at his friend.

But Matteo's attention was on the trees overhead. He abruptly released Themo and reached for his sword.

The jungle suddenly came alive with exited little yips. Golden, catlike eyes blinked from the deeply shadowed underbrush. A small, hunched green figure dived toward them from high overhead, clinging with one hand to a long vine. A wicked bone-headed spear was couched under one arm, giving its flight the appearance of an airborne joust.

The creature passed harmlessly overhead and landed on a high branch behind them. It sat there, chittering and shaking a small fist.

"What the-"

Themo's outburst ended in a sharp oof! as another vine, this one bearing three of the creatures, slammed into his back. He pitched forward onto all fours, and more of the creatures dashed out of the underbrush, swarming over him. They clung to him, clawing and squealing, as he struggled to his feet.

More creatures encircled Matteo. They were hideous beasts, green as goblins but emaciated in form and hunched over in a permanent crouch. None of them stood much higher than Matteo's knees. Their gait was awkward, their mien cowardly. Yet they wielded an assortment of weapons crafted by humans and elves, a silent but powerful testament to previous successes.

"Tasloi," Matteo muttered.

"Lizard grub!" countered Themo. He peeled off one of the creatures and hurled it toward his entrapped and struggling lizard. The tasloi sailed down the passage, wailing pitifully, and landed well short of the trap. Themo shrugged this off and backhanded another of the pests. He drew his dagger and began to cut free of the mob, working his way toward Iago and dragging the tasloi that clung doggedly to one ankle.

Matteo glanced toward Iago. The small jordain was whirling about, slapping at the tasloi that clung to his back. Several more of the creatures tittered excitedly, circling around Iago and his dervish dance. Though all held weapons, they did not strike. Clearly they expected their comrade to bring the jordain down.

Themo caught up a chunk of dried fewmet and hurled it into the midst of the tasloi spectators. Dragon dung splattered, and the tasloi scattered with shrill, startled yips. Iago took advantage of this reprieve to stagger over to a tree. He slammed his back repeatedly into the trunk, trying to dislodge the clinging tasloi.

Matteo's friends seemed to have matters well in hand. That was just as well, for the tasloi pack that encircled him left him in no position to give immediate aid.

He turned this way and that, sword menacing as he kept the creatures at bay.

The tasloi swarmed him suddenly. He lunged low, knocking aside the spear wielded by the creature directly in front of him. At the same time he kicked out with his back foot, connecting hard with one tasloi rushing in from behind. He pulled his sword free, whirled to the left with a fierce yell that sent several of the creatures skittering back. Just as suddenly he reversed and lunged toward the pair of tasloi that came in from his right. One of the creatures panicked and all but threw his comrade onto Matteo's blade in his haste to backpedal. Matteo grimaced and pulled his sword free. He parried a dagger thrust, kicked the attacking creature aside and turned to face a regrouping trio.

By now most of the tasloi had reconsidered their chances. The surviving members of the pack melted into the jungle, leaving behind a score of their dead.

The three men worked together to cut down Themo's mount and tried not to listen as the other two lizards fed noisily upon the fallen tasloi.

"Fine sport," Themo observed happily. "Of course, the green dragon would have been better, but there's something to be said for starting small."

"The tasloi ambush obscured what little trail sign Andris left behind. Any more time spent tracking would be time wasted," Iago said.