“It’s only three more miles to Alder!” shouted
Aldon over the thunder of hooves. Aldon had bought three new horses
before departing Bale - Holze had taken Jask's dun in trade for
more arrows, food, and another cloak, as his had been ruined. The
dun had developed a limp after getting cold and represented a liability
they could not maintain. Lorry rode a tall chestnut gelding and
Quiet rode comfortably on a smaller, lighter paint. Jask gained
a sorrel mare that wasn’t as swift as she appeared, but had
good wind. Whatever warmth had been absorbed in the guardhouse
- it was a fleeting memory now. Sweat covered the animals - there
was no way to stop anywhere but a town now, the animals would freeze.
Likewise, the faces drawn into hoods were dusted with white. The
night was alternately white with the snow, or black as pitch, the
clouds negating any moon or starlight. The land began to fold upon
itself slowly, and they passed over countless creeks bisecting
the road. Vegetation, just sugar-frosted sable blurs, grew more
abundant. They were nearing the Ymris River. That did not stop
the light snow beginning to fall once more.
Alder was a large river-trading enterprise, the town was at times
bustling with over twenty thousand people. Now, in winter, the
demand for barges was less - Aldon expected the town to be buttoned
up tight. The southern ‘States would be getting the business
this season. Would that they were on campaign there.
“We'll pass over the bridge and skirt south of the heart
of the city!” he yelled again. Himmel and Jask rode faster
on ahead to scout. Small houses, smoke curling gently up from the
chimney tops, dotted the farmland here and there. In almost every
occasion, the riders could hear dogs barking in their wake. The
houses grew closer together as they neared the river, and at last
turning to warehouses that butted up to the river itself. The riders
wound a right turn down the main street - easily wide enough for
two wagons to ride abreast. The structures had grown to three storeys
in some cases, all jutting out over the street. The yellow flicker
glowing in the few glass windows made Toady wish he were inside
curled up with something warm and female. His thoughts were interrupted
by a muffled cry and Ahren pitching backwards off her mount. She
struck the muddy street with a splashing thud. The semi-frozen
puddle failed to absorb much of the fall.
“Ware!” bellowed Toady. “Arrows!” He
wheeled his mount about, nearly bringing the horse down in the
icy street. He dismounted with a fluid, practiced grace to retrieve
Ahren's body. An arrow protruded from just below the right collar
bone. Blood stained an alarmingly large area of her tunic. Toady
snapped the arrow off at the base and threw her bodily over the
saddle horn. She gave a feeble grunt - which gave him hope. He
yelled his mount onward - and swung up over the cantle. Lorry,
nearest to him, was pointing to a nest of three chimneys at the
top of a three story timber house. As Toady watched, Lorry made
a throwing motion and a fragment of jewel-like fire streaked toward
the foe. It struck the lurker in the chest and he exploded in a
spectacular pyrotechnic flash. Pieces of him rained down on the
sidewalks. Bricks also fell, as one of the chimneys stood half-wasted.
Toady had to blink his eyes several times to wash out the after-image
of the bolt.
The main body of the riders had passed well beyond Toady, Lorry
and their precious cargo, weapons in full evidence. Buzzing far
too near for comfort, a brace of hornets buried themselves in the
ground at Toady’s horse’s hooves. Then two more struck
sparks, then three. Digging his spurs, Lorry encouraged his mount
to hop and clatter forward at a run. Toady hugged his mount’s
neck as he followed close behind. They joined their companions
as Himmel and Jask stood in their stirrups on each side of the
street firing arrows into the night as fast as they could knock,
draw, and loose.
The rest of the group, Aldon in the lead, roared across the well-arched
stone bridge; the beasts whickering in distaste as they galloped
over shallow cobbles.
Aldon raised an arm as he drew reign to direct the troop. The
orders never made it out. Two dark feathered projectiles slammed
him from his saddle, and he hit the ground and lay very still.
Lorry cried out, eyes glowing in the night with a greenish luminescence.
He pointed into a thicket near the river’s edge. The entire
bush caught in a brilliant orange conflagration. Two figures, flames
eating at arms and on backs, screamed and ran from within the brush.
Bull charged ahead, mindless of the flames, and skidded to a stop
near the two. With a mighty overhand chop, his sword buried itself
to the man’s chest, smashing his head into bony fragments.
He turned upon the other ambusher, who was writhing on the ground,
and rode the horse over her. Twice.
Quiet, bow ready, arrows knocked, was the first to reach Aldon.
She did not dismount as she covered for Fingers and Jask; they
lifted Aldon's body and got it over Jask's saddle as she scanned
for other snipers on the rooftops. Quiet snagged the reigns of
Aldon's mounts. More arrows began to fall then, lofted, rather
than shot. Someone was massing archers on a rooftop out of view.
Bull’s horse, having been spurred on once again, collapsed,
head crashing into the soggy ground. A jumble of tack and armor
mixed with the hideous screams of the wounded animal. After what
seemed an eternity, Bull gained his feet, cursing roundly.
“You gods-cursed fumbling excuse for-” he halted
when he saw the two black sheaf arrows stuck in the horse’s
chest. Bull shook his head and made single, decisive chop. The
thrashing ceased.
“Mount! Now!” ordered Himmel as he rode by. An arrow
stuck in the saddlebag at his side.
“I can’t you dung eating -Oh!” A pair of reigns
fell into his hands as Quiet rode by with Aldon’s mount.
* * *
Five miles beyond Alder, Himmel called for the riders to stop. “Take
a quarter-glass to fix anything - then we ride on! Don’t
dally and don’t argue!” This last said to Toady as
he opened his mouth to speak. Himmel directed them into a pitch
black section of trees and bushes down in a draw. The babbling
of a small stream could be heard back behind a stand of evergreens.
It was ten degrees colder here than on the road. The group was
a blur of motion to see how their compatriots were.
Lorry and Toady both took a close look at Ahren’s wound.
The arrow had struck just below the collar bone - it looked to
have grazed the bone itself - and lodged in the hollow of her shoulder.
Its orientation showed it to have been fired from above her mounted
position. Blood soaked a great area of her chest.
“She will perish if we do not rest here long enough for
her to stabilize,” Toady pronounced. “Unless you can
do that - thing - you do...” His face showed the distaste
he felt, but nevertheless he expectantly awaited his strange colleague’s
opinion. Lorry sighed, the dark blotches under his eyes giving
evidence of the toll his actions had incurred. With a shaking hand,
Lorry took the flask handed him by Fingers. Fingers himself sported
a new set of stitches a la Dr. Hamfist, as he had christened Bull.
“I can stop the bleeding, but I don’t have enough
energy to heal her completely. You’ll have to suture her
up from there. She’ll stabilize, and I think be safe for
travel. We’ll have to carry her – she’ll be out
for a while due to the amount of blood loss.” He began to
cut away her thick leather jack. She’d be pissed at him for
damaging her new tunic.
“I would say get you on with it, but we can ill afford
the loss of your blade or your - powers - in exchange for the chance
she'll be stabilized.” Toady took a deep breath. “I
do confess, however, that she is beyond my skills to influence.
I can remove the broad-head. That in itself is a damaging operation,
not to mention stemming the blood flow that will result. I can
do nothing for the shock - beyond trying to keep her warm.” He
gave a nasty look to Himmel. The red-haired man looked away. After
a moment more, he left to oversee the burying of Aldon's body.
Bull, Jask, and Fingers had wrapped the body, and were busy at
shovels creating a deep trough. They would not tolerate the scavengers
getting at a comrade’s corpse. The offending quarrels had
already been removed, and personal effects put into a pouch for
Himmel to hold onto. As he passed his horse, Himmel yanked the
protruding missile from the saddlebag. It had punctured the skin
inside, and red wine dribbled down to pool at his mount’s
hooves.
When they were done, Fingers passed another flask around. How
he’d refilled it had gone unnoticed. Aldon was buried deep
within the earth. A crown of stones from the streambed marked the
cairn. Any words said to their fallen leader were silent and personal.
No marking was left for others - those who mattered knew it was
here.
“Well, sir, what do we do now?” asked Jask. That
the leadership had fallen upon Himmel had not fazed him at all. “We
got a bunch o’ walking wounded, one oughta be flat on her
back in an infirmary, and we got a countryside full o’ demon-worshipper’s
being mobilized agin’ us.” He awaited Himmel’s
decision as Toady approached.
“We move out as soon as Toady and Lorry say Ahren can be
moved.”
“Well,” interjected Toady, “in that case you
can start getting everyone warmed up for the ride.” He looked
back at Lorry hovering over Ahren’s form. Teneil and Quiet
walked an abbreviated perimeter, but cast a few looks in when they
could. “Lorry applied his thaumaturgic craft or whatever
it is and her wound ejected the broadhead.” His tone became
musing. “Closed itself anew after that, didn’t require
a single stitch...” He shook his head.
“How’s Lorry doin’?” asked Fingers.
“Rocky. We would be well advised to keep an eye on him.” Toady
packed his suture kit into his saddle bag, happy not to have had
to use it.
“Bull, you carry Ahren. Toady, you watch Lorry. Let’s
get mounted up and moving,” called Himmel. His mouth turned
down. “We’ll stop for rest in Dirak, or Amrohel if
possible. Let’s get the hell out of here.” The riders
caught up reins and mounted - in moments the dell was empty save
the churned tracks in the snow and a solitary unnamed cairn.
