Part VII

"Atttttacccccckkkkkkkk!!!!!!" Farrell pulled the sword from his scabbard and ran screaming like an injured nine year old into the forest.
"Your mad partner's gone off bloody half cocked," Sozleg said. "He's running the wrong direction. The guards are coming from there." he gestured toward the edge of the wood with a gnarled, warty, twistedly hoofy hand in virtually the opposite direction that Farrell had run.
For a moment there was an absolute maelstrom of activity. The bloodhounds, released from their tethers, all ran straight through the clearing, past the Puppigs and Rylin and after the streaking figure of Farrell. Rylin, seeing four Arrendan Guards, unconsciously pulled her blouse down slightly, revealing a bit of cleavage before unsheathing her throwing dagger in her left hand and her ebony handled dirk in the right. The vicious looking Puppigs, fiercely brandishing their weapons a moment before, now broke ranks in a flurry and scattered, presumably at some invisible signal by Sozleg. The guards stopped, looked in bewilderment at the scattering porcine phalanx, and then laughed. The leader slowly unbuckled a large iron mace at his belt and moved towards Rylin. The other three, still chuckling, turned and slowly loped after the dogs.

* * *

About a mile east of the clearing of Grakel's tree, a queer beast sat and waited in a small glen. The thing was a fat, red, hairy, flat-backed sort of beast. It looked like a small ox, but its head was buried under a dense matted clump of hair that two spiral horns twisted from. They were locally known as Guarnos, and their bodies were built as thick as two men standing side by side. A thin, elflike figure sat astride the creature's shoulders as it sat firmly on the ground and lazily chewed its cud. The Guarno looked up through the mass of hair at its rider, who was listening intently.
"Listen, Bastir, our cue." The spritely creature reached into a cunning little satchel trussed neatly underneath her cloak. She produced a slender fluted blowgun, carved finely with fair sylvan creatures up and down the length of it.
"I'm still not sure what you expect is going to happen," intoned the Guarno. "Do you think our quarry will just come to us?"
"The Red Lady said he would. Besides, my friend, don't you hear that clumsy thing crashing through the forest?" Saying this, the elfin being placed a dart into the muzzle of her weapon, and held it to her pursed lips. At this, the Guarno raised himself remarkably swiftly to a standing position. His ears, which up until now had been hidden underneath the carpet of fur on its head, now swept up from where they were hanging. Guarnos have large ears, and when they were listening, the fuzzy scoops tilted from side to side slowly like huge lily blossoms.
"Yes, Arva, I do hear the man. And many dogs, too, I think." Bastir began to scan the rise ahead of them intently for signs of their target.
"Leave the dogs to me." And as if on that signal, the figure of Farrell crashed through a shrub at the top of the hill and tumbled down it. Striking nearly every stump, boulder, and thorn bush on the way down with an accompanying obscenity, Farrell fell finally in a clump at the feet of the Guarno.
The elf and the beast traded glances, as if to disbelieve the ease of their task. As Arva put away her blowgun, a passel of hounds streamed down the hill, no longer barking.
"Hello, my darlings. Yes, I love each one of you!" Arva excitedly greeted the dogs, licking the first one on the nose. The dog licked her back, and she scratched each behind the ear and gave it a morsel from her satchel. "Now, those nasty men that keep you are about to come back and ruin my plans," she said sternly. "Go eat them! Eat them now!!" With that, Arva pointed to the top of the rise, where the first guard appeared huffing and puffing as he tried to catch its breath. The Guarno began chuckling, as the dogs turned and ran swiftly up the hill snarling.
"Wha. . . poochy, good poochy. . . AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" The guard screamed in abject terror and ran from sight.
Within five minutes Arva had Farrell securely tied to the back of the Guarno and they had disappeared from the glen.

* * *
"So, milady, have we met before?" The guard held his mace in front of him lazily, as if not concerned in the slightest by this slight woman with a weapon in each hand.
"Ever been to the dungeons of Elzohr?" Rynin spat the words from between her clenched teeth. Elzohr had been the scene to her most awful trials -- and most bloody escape. The guard paused, as if taken aback by the notion of this near legendary criminal, and then stepped towards her.
". . . he should be good for a ransom, don't you think, Yenzlik?. . . "
". . . at least 40 gold, I'd reckon . . . "
Hearing this exchange behind him, the guard turned and saw a line of forty Puppigs advancing from all sides, dagger length short swords held by twisted hands. Seeing his predicament, he dropped the mace and held up his hands.
"Don't hurt me, demons!! I have a wife!! And a pension in only two months!! Please don't kill me, uh, huh, huh. . . " the guard began blubbering incomprehensibly. Rynin scoffed in disgust.
"You deserve anything we do to you. Now pull out those hand irons from your belt and put them on yourself," commanded Rynin. Sozlek walked up from the line of Puppigs.
"You've handled this situation well," said the former warthog.
"Next time, tell me to run too," snapped Rynin. "Now where's that Farrell? I'll be damned if I let that fool get killed by those dogs. And why do you have hands, when Graken only had hooves?"
"Graken didn't wear these more human trappings that we do, either, and probably fouled the earth of his den with his own filth as well," said the old chief haughtily. "As for your companion, he may be lost. However, I can tell from where I stand that you cannot fight nor run any further tonight. We must create a shelter and make our hard decisions by morning's light." With that, Sozlek made some strange grunting noises and the whole group of Puppigs threw their armor and weapons aside and began digging feverishly at a small earthen bank on the outskirt of the clearing. "As for this guard, hmmmm." The grizzled old piggish humanoid listened to the distant sounds of screams and barks. With a knowing smile, he turned to the guard. "Run away, but run that way." He pointed towards the direction Farrell, the dogs, and the guards had run. With a crazed look in his eyes and his hands still shackled, the guard did just that.
"Jernstul! Fervlin! Come here." At his command, two young pigs scuttled quickly out of the rapidly expanding hole and ran eagerly to Sozlek. In a soft voice he said, "Take one or two of your group and track the stupid man. Bring him to camp or report on his outcome. And find out why an elf is involved here. Go now!"
By the time Sozlek turned back to Rynin, she had already collapsed in exhaustion.

Dawn found Rynin awake in a well camoflauged den, expansive enough to accommodate the troupe of Puppigs strewn about the floor around her, and branches cleverly placed to hide the opening. She awoke with a start, and saw the scout Jernstul asleep by the door. She shook him hard, and cried, "Swine!! Where is Farrell? Where is he?!" Jernstul awoke suddenly and bleated, ". . .