Trunks of ancient trees, perhaps thousands of years old, forced the vardo wagon to take a circuitous path throughout the confines of the Drakenwald forest. They had not made the time that Assallya would have liked. Char was driving the weasels hard, the forest canopy, unlike the entrance to the kobold mines, providing his sensitive eyes some protection from the burning sun overhead. Unfortunately, it did the same for those giving chase.

Behind them she heard a horn, several long blasts that reverberated between the ancient trees and through the leaves of the forest canopy overhead. It startled her. The very air seemed heavy with the sound, the blasts all encompassing. She knew what the blasts meant. One of their pursuers must have spotted the fleeing wagon. The horn was to lead the others to the wagon. It wasn’t surprising. She just hadn’t known the kobolds to use them. Looking behind her she caught a glimpse of a red scaled kobold as he crested a ridge, urging his weasel forwards with a flexible leather crop.

“Char,” she yipped in the kobold tongue, “problem!”

Char didn’t even look backwards. Just snapped the reins to take advantage of a rare straight section of the path they had been following and spurred the weasels forward. One hissed in response, something that reminded Assallya of a cornered rat defiantly facing down a group of adventurers in a dungeon. It was the “cornered” aspect that bothered her. She was beginning to feel that way herself.

“Very well,” Assallya stated in the common tongue despite Char’s inability to understand it, “If that is the way they wish it.”

The blonde elf twisted in her seat, glaring at the pursuing kobold with eyes that had gone cold. She began incanting, a string of arcane syllables flowing from her tongue. Invisible streamers of energy curled backwards behind the wagon and ensnared the weasel riding warrior. It was a simple spell, the simplest of magics, but in this particular instance was quite useful. The kobold suddenly found himself dizzy, confused, and bereft of equilibrium. Unprepared the small lizard slid from the weasel’s back. The last Assallya saw of him, he had caught hold of the leather harness in one claw and was being dragged across the uneven terrain. Slammed against a tree, the kobold lost his grip and fell away, tumbling through the brush.

“That should slow them down.”

Then another horn blasted.

“By Myrkul’s shriveled black balls!” she cried, small fist slamming into the bench.

There was a snap against the wagon’s side. Assallya jumped and Char made a small yip of surprise. Something impacting against the wood. Searching for the source the sorceress caught sight of another kobold, somehow folding another bullet into his sling while guiding his weasel with his knees. Gods be damned, she was truly beginning to despise kobolds.

Spell after spell she flung back in the direction of their pursuers, conservative magics wherever possible. The weasel riders simply did not clump together enough to hit them all with the slumbering mists. They were like a wolf pack, or at least for one as her that had read about wolves but never seen them in action, what she supposed the wolf pack would be like. Two of them had begun flanking twenty paces to their left and right while the others were spread out behind at a distance and made no attempt to climb aboard. They had seen what she’d done to them when they tried. Once she had paralyzed one completely, and the limp form had fallen from the weasel like it was dead. Another she had turned against his own fellows with a charm spell. That had caused them some significant trouble while they dealt with the traitor in their midst. She supposed they were now waiting for the wagon to lose a wheel or break an axle. At this rate they could simply hold back and casually launch slung bullets at their leisure.

“Slow. Slow.” Assallya yipped at Char now that she saw the problem.

For hours the mobile siege continued. The elf and her kobold protector racing aimlessly. The kobolds too timid to make the final push, occasionally flinging a sling bullet. Assallya discouraged that behavior with a spell each time until they gave that up as well. Finally, instead of murky forest ahead there was a curtain of golden light spread across horizon. The forest’s edge was upon them.

“Char no understand,” the black scaled kobold keened loudly over his shoulder, “forest not end here. Forest end further.”

“You complain?”

“Meh.” Char acquiesced with a shrug in what Assallya, bemused by the expression, thought was very human.

Sudden determination ushered the kobolds into one final attempt. Assallya finally managed her slumbering mists on those to the rear and she succeeded in felling three of their number but the two at flanks pressed in tight, leaping from their weasels and catching hold against the wagon. One grasped the brass pole, and began to shimmy up it. Another caught hold of the window sill one side.

Grasping her light crossbow Assallya stood up and then immediately stumbled forwards over the supplies tied to the vardo’s roof. She fired her bolt at the kobold that was climbing the wall but she was a horrible shot. The kobold yapped in surprise as the bolt missed his snout by inches and then his beady small black eyes furrowed beneath the kobold’s brow ridge. He drew a small blade, barely the length of her longest finger, and moved onto the wagon like a gecko scaling a tree.

Despite the terror filling her Assallya moved almost by instinct. She stomped on him as if he were a bug, her bare foot slamming down on his skull. The kobold’s eyes were unfocused, stunned by the blow. The elf found herself surprised as well. She wasn’t the sort that engaged in such activities. Still, that didn’t stop her from revelling in her accomplishment.

“Get off my wagon!” she said, kicking out again, her foot catching the small figure beneath his chin and launching him off into empty air.

To her left she caught sight of the other kobold attacking Char. The small creatures were both quick and slender. She’d never seen a kobold fight another. She’d seen them duck, weave and dodge warriors with remarkable nimbleness. This was different. Of similar size they fought more like humans only with more speed. They were currently fighting over a knife.

Assallya took the opportunity to reload the crossbow in her hands from the quiver next to the bench, kneel, and tried to find an opportunity. There really wasn’t one. Char had let go of the weasels, letting them follow the path on their own. They rolled about on the bench like a pair of wild cats and Assallya couldn’t see how to shoot one without risking the other.

Beginning to despair, the elven woman, was about to take her chances with the butt end of the crossbow. That was when they emerged from the forest into some sort of clearing. Both elf and kobolds were blinded by the unrestrained sunlight but Assallya lived on the surface. She adjusted far more quickly. Both kobold were blind, eyelids clenched against the light, and still struggling for the knife. What had happened was that they had both stopped thrashing. Assallya loosed her bolt, catching the red skinned kobold in the ribs, transfixing their opponent.

“Is it over?” Assallya asked in the common tongue, peering about and forgetting for the moment that Char didn’t understand it.

It took the pair several minutes to recover their wits, to look about and see where they were. Adrealin was still coursing through their bodies. Their breathing was ragged. They were in a clearing, in the middle of the forest and before them stretched a rather expansive inn.

Finally, after several minutes, Assallya looked at Char. 

“Why resting place here? No smarts be here.” she said, totally confused.

“You complain?”

Assallya chuckled mirthfully at the answer to that.

“Meh.”