Far above and a little north of the human camp, the Bumbles trudged down the narrow slope, grumbling and fighting with each other, pushing and shoving. Two had already fallen into the gorge and not bounced back up. No one cared. The twisted giantkin of the dark northern forests lived solitary lives, coming together once or twice a year to chose mates or hunt large herds of wooly mumakil. This gathering was unprecedented in their memory. (Which to be honest, might only be a few days for some of them). It had been a long time since the Bumbles had marched. Bronk had spent time and lavished gifts on them over the years, gaining their trust and now he had given them better lands. All they had to do was kill the puny humans and prevent them from ever returning. They hated the narrow path, which for them meant a slow, single file march. The rock was slippery with ice, which didn't bother the Bumbles with toes, but many had hooves like a cow or deer, and they moved slowly, enduring the hoots and jeers of those behind them. A few had great racks of horns or antlers. A huge advantage when looking for a wife, but a liability when their horns brushed against the rock wall or poked the fellow in front of them. Only the thought of eating more humans kept them moving. They'd had a taste when they attacked without warning and sent the tribes running. Now they wanted more and they were only a short walk from getting there. From time to time, one of the bored giants in the rear glanced at the sky, but the threat was coming from a different direction.===========================================Gunnar wished he'd asked more questions but events had swirled too fast. Gudrun's pronouncement that he would be the one leading the attack had surprised him, but only for a second and then the thought of soaring into the skies and burning down the tribe's enemies had overcome that. It was a story from a legend. The only problem with legends is they don't go into the small details, like how to talk with owls. There were no reins to pull, and he know how to steer her at all. Frustrated, he yelled, leaned low hoping those huge eyes would see, and pointed to the horizon a little to the right of their current course. "That way. Go that way!"The bird shifted course, the V of geese followed exactly in her path. Gunnar sighed in relief and then the head spun to look at him and a big eye winked. A voice far to small and high pitched to belong to this monstrous creature spoke to him.Gunnar did his best to describe the narrow valley. "They say that when the gods of the giantkin came to the north, they argued about where their people would live. The largest, Borg, took his knife and used it to carve river channels to divide the land fairly. But as he did, he little brother Gorg spilled the mead into one of the rivers. Even today, they call that river the Evermead, and use the clear, sweet water for all their brewing. But this angered Borg at the time, and as he yelled at Gorg, his knife carved through a mountain and deep into the land, creating a narrow channel, and where his knuckles scraped the mountain, they made a rough shelf that small folk would use to walk though the mountains. Some call it Knifeblade pass, others the Narrows, and priests of Gorg, always troublemakers, call it Bloody Knuckle pass.""Less than a hundred feet wide. While we traveled we threw rocks across the gorge and it was not hard to hit the other side. It is so deep in the mountains, that you can here a scream until the canyon carries the victim too far. At the lower end, just before the mountains drop down to the valley, the river is only two hundred feet below. You will see the little river as it comes down from Knifeblade and flows near our camp."Gunnar thought that sounded like a good way to die. "That would be dumb. You attack from the flank, riding by and each warrior shooting three times as he goes into a vulnerable side of the formation. Then circle around, hitting the rear or the same flank."Gunnar tried to imagine that, and suddenly looked at the geese. "You want to use the chasm! Fly hidden below the giants and as each goose comes up, throw fire at the enemy. Bam Bam Bam! Then swoop down into safety!" The owl honked loudly, and the Major flew up and landed on the owl, just in front of Gunnar. The V shifted as his second took the center position.Later, Gunnar would wonder about the strange conversation with him telling the goose the plan, and the owl translating the goose's questions. Some things were about flying, which he couldn't answer. But the basic plan of hit and run was old news to the Snow Goose Rebels. Eventually, they ironed out the details, and the Major resumed his spot at the head of the V. Gunnar said, "This will work. We can stop them. It is a good plan."Gunnar had one, "When is fire ever friendly? Like the geese, it exists to destroy."The owl laughed, a high-pitched giggle. Then Gunnar saw far below them the half finished fortress of the tribes, people moving around the size of ants. If anyone looked up, he couldn't tell. They zoomed over the last miles and came to the river pouring from the narrow chasm. Warmer weather was melting the snow in parts of the north, sending torrents of water south and making streams into rivers and rivers into raging torrents. Gunnar had no expectation of living should they fall into those cold and turbulent waters. He shrugged. If he fell, he was dead one way or another. Those thoughts fled as his mount began to descend and they entered the narrow canyon, staying two hundred feet above the water, the canyon walls looking close enough to touch in the little light that filtered down. Despite promises to Shepherd's and the angry honks of their commander, the formation fell apart as they closed on their target, individual geese racing ahead in their eagerness to blast the enemy first. The older geese had spent years raiding in the north, and many had accumulated a wealth of Enhancement Points and abilities. Nitro Rush, Attack Speed, and Sprint through the Sky all being very popular. Geese roared by the owl, turning upwards to begin their attack run. Gunnar held on for dear life as the owl sped up her flight speed as well.The first the bumbles knew something was up was when five geese popped out of the chasm and send explosions of first into them. Each blast could only hit a few giants, but the geese kept firing. Three of them turned, flying along the pathway and out of reach of the Bumble's meaty fists, firing three times and them diving back down. Two stayed, the joy of playing Fire Wizard too much for them. The Burney Bacon was singing in their ears and their wings were smoldering and catching fire as they used the staves up all at once.
An angry giant, on fire from several hits, grabbed a rock from the wall and hurled it. Others followed his plan. They were terrible shots and the geese weren't sitting still, but one rock hit on target and slammed the avian saboteur into the far wall where the broken staff made a large explosion and sent gravel and rock into the gorge. The second goose could barely hold it's stave the item was so hot. With malice in his heart, he dove at the giant who had killed his mate, breaking the staff in it's beak as he landed on it's head. The goose, the staff, and the giant's head all exploded, throwing burning bits of brain and fur everywhere. The headless body fell into the chasm.More geese emerge, some following the plan, some not. The lead bumbles were all on fire now, hurt but not dead. It took a lot of fireballs to kill a giant, and the explosions were too spread out. Squirmie emerged from the gorge into the chaos, cursing in a language that hadn't been heard for hundreds of years. Gunnar unleashed his three shots as he'd been told, and then Squirmie unleashed the fire she'd held inside of her. Twelve fire staves and dozens of pieces of Mage's Delight powered her breath as she sent a wave of fire along the path, scorching two dozen bumbles and killing five of them. Any that survived would swear it had been a Dragon, showing burned stumps of limbs and terrible scars. Then the owl was gone, diving down into the chasm. The emerged a mile up river, behind the Bumbles. The Major had managed to gain control of half his flyers and was heading back into the gorge. Solitary geese attacked the rear of the formation, or dove headlong into masses of burning giants. Squirmy saw that they were killing giants, but not enough of them. Their hides were thick and their fur thicker. Many had rocky or scaled skin that could deal with a fireball. Squirmie was angry in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Gunnar pointed to a large formation of ice and rock overhanging the trail. "We don't need to kill them all. Just keep them from using the trail!"The owl hovered and looked at where her rider was pointing. Geese continued to pop out of the chasm, strafing the giants, but one by one, they were dying or using up their staves and flying up to regroup. Squirmie hovered in above the packed icicles and blasted with her waning flame breath where it was attached to the rock wall. Gunnar fired until his staves became hot and his hands blistered. With a loud 'crack' the ice broke off, tumbling down and bringing other chunks of ice and snow along. It hit the narrow trail, shattering the rock of the trail and carrying away a large section, along with several of the Bumbles. A last few explosions from the geese hit, aiming at the wounded and burning giants, causing more casualties. An exhausted owl began a slow glide down into the chasm, to begin the long flight home. Gunnar saw movement and spied an enraged and charred giant with long talons run along the path and then leap into the air. With no other weapons to hand, Gunnar drew his knife and yelled a warning to his mount. Squirmie turned, but not fast enough. In her own form, it would have been child's play to avoid the giant, but the owl was a new form for her, and her instincts betrayed her. The giants taloned hands grabbed for her, tearing out a handful of tail feathers while the other hand grabbed the leather strap around her neck. The giant dangled from the strap, it's other hand clawing at her. The owl tried to keep flying, but the weight was dragging them down into the chasm.Gunnar didn't hesitate, and his knife was sharp, passed down to him from his father, and through the line of Jarl's stretching back to the old Empire. It hand been forged in the Bug Wars and was razor sharp. He couldn't reach the Bumble, but he didn't have to. He sliced the strap in one cut, the sharp knife severing the leather and leaving a small bleeding wound on his leg as he cut to far. For an instant, time stood still, then strap came free, dragging Gunnar from his perch. He and the giant fell together into the darkness.Squirmie screamed in frustration and looked down. She began to tuck her wings for a dive, but too many giants had watched the struggle. They hurled rocks down at the owl, two hitting and stunning her, and then she too fell.