A Warrior's Redemption

by Guy S. Stanton III

  *****

  After last night, whoever was following me could harbor no doubts that I knew of their pursuit. The dust cloud on my back trail was clear evidence that they realized stealth was no longer an option. Pausing on a ridge, I looked back at the five riders following me; Zoarinian Horse Guardsman by the look of them. They were pushing their horses hard to catch up with me and I made no attempt to hide my trail.

  I finally crossed over a small crest into a valley in between some low mountains. On the far side of the short valley was a close knit grove of pine trees, which I now headed for.

  The trees had grown close to each other and there was little light in the dark confines of the pine forest. Having gone some distance into the pines, I dismounted from Flin and tethered him behind some deadfalls, where he was unlikely to be noticed right away. Putting a little distance between myself and Flin, I stopped roughly eighty feet back from the edge of the pine grove where it met the valley meadow I had just ridden through.

  I climbed one of the pines until I was about twenty feet off the ground. Resting on a sturdy branch, I pulled two of the Nizak blades from my belt and waited for my pursuers to come to me. I was done with running. Last night had been all the warning that I was willing to give as to the danger of following me and they had not heeded it.

  The day was hot for early spring, but it felt good within the cool darkness of the forest. After a while I heard the brush of a stirrup against a tree, accompanied by the sounds of movement from several riders in the close confines of the pine forest. They were riding single file directly following the trail I had left. In the darkness of the forest they didn’t see me sitting motionless high up in the tree. I made sure not to stare at them directly as well, but rather I kept my gaze off focus. A concentrated stair can often alert the intended victim on some unconscious level to the unseen danger posed to them; why I did not know, but I had found it to be true nonetheless.

  I waited until the middle rider of the five was directly underneath me and then I jumped. Time seemed to slow down as I fell through the air. The ability of being able to plan a series of moves before the completion of an action is a hard won talent. So much energy and opportunity is lost in the panic of the moment.

  In the beginning of my time in the arena I had relied on a nerved up approach to combat, with its basis rooted firmly in the simple need to survive. In that approach to fighting, one’s ability to take damage better than and longer than your opponent, as well as the longevity of your energy level, is your only hope. As time had progressed, I had learned to tone down the chatter and focus on the simplicity of the action required, ignoring the less important factors and unnecessary movements. I had learned to fight smart.

  Everything could come into play; environment, frame of mind, abilities of the opponent, surprise, and, last of all, mere chance. The risk was that some things were impossible to predict. But no risk taken meant survival was doubtful. Success often belongs to the one willing to sweep in and snatch it out of the jaws of indecision. As my feet landed on the back end of the third horse in the column, I allowed my momentum to force my knees into a deep squat. I immediately rammed my left hand, which was holding a Nizak blade backward, into the rider behind me where his armor meshed together in the center of his back. Finding the weak spot in the armor, the knife went in to the hilt.

  Pushing off with both legs, I leaped off the back end of the surprised horse straight at the fourth rider, dislodging my blade as I sprang forward. My left leg stretched out before me in my leap, cleared the side of the horse’s head and landed on its front left shoulder. The momentum of my body pushed the horse to my left and I pushed off with that leg, sending me towards a pine tree beyond and off to the side of the rider. As I headed for the tree, I buried the knife in my left hand beneath the rider’s shoulder where there was no armor.

  I switched the knife from my right hand to my left in midair. Now free, my right hand wrapped around the smooth trunk of a young pine tree, which helped slow my momentum to the ground as I spiraled around the tree trunk. The last rider’s horse, reacting to the fright of the other animals, was shying away from me, causing the back of the rider to be exposed even as he struggled to regain control of his mount. Leaping onto the back of the horse, I made a quick slice across its rider’s throat with the knife in my left hand. I continued on a controlled fall over the right side of the horse as the rider fell, clutching at his throat, over the left side of the horse.

  I somersaulted to my feet in time to see the second rider in the column had pulled off to the side and was aiming an arrow straight at my chest. Throwing myself to the side, I felt the arrow slide along my ribs on my left side. Throwing the Nizak blade overhanded, I watched it hit him in the throat causing him to gasp loudly and drop the bow. He fell heavily to the ground, as his horse galloped off.

  The first rider had turned in the narrow confines of the forest and charged me now with his lance pointed down. Mere moments before he would have impaled me, I slipped behind a young pine tree. I heard the swish of the bladed lance slicing through the air where I had just been a moment before. Coming around the tree trunk, I threw my last knife hard and watched as it sunk to its hilt low down on the rider’s back, piercing its way through the armor platelets. He managed to stay on his horse until he made it to the meadow before he fell off.

  Grimly, I watched the fallen rider struggle to rise only to fall back to the ground. It gave me no pleasure to kill, but these men had asked for it by tracking me down. I collected my knives, not wanting to see such fine weapons rot in the undergrowth of this dark forest. Reaching down to retrieve a knife, I winced as the arrow wound reminded me of its presence. My fingers found the wound on my side. The arrow had hit nothing vital, but it had left a nasty gash where it had skidded off my ribs, and the wound was bleeding profusely.

  Flin perked up an ear at my reappearance and even looked halfway interested that I had returned. Gathering the reins I led him through the forest and out to where the last soldier lay. The warmth of the afternoon sun felt good after the cool moist darkness of the forest. Blood dripped off my fingers, which held a wadded up piece of rag to the wound in my side, as I approached the last soldier in the meadow.

  The man was still conscious, but he didn’t have long by the looks of it.

  Looking up at me he coughed up some blood as he shook his head, “Should have known better than to come after you! I saw you fight in the arena once.”

  “Who sent you?” I asked.

  “Marfoul and some others like him. He doesn’t like you very much,” he said, grinning up at me.

  A surge of pain wiped the grin off his face. He looked around at the beautiful mountain scenery. “Well, I guess this is as good a spot as any to die.”

  Looking up at me he said, “See you in hell, Roric.”

  With that last comment, which felt like a bad stain on the beauty around us, he breathed his last. Shaking my head sadly, I reflected on the wasted life that lay extinguished before me. A man that, with his dying breath, had wished me to go to hell. Hell, thankfully, wasn’t my destination anymore and nothing that anybody could say could ever make it so again.

  I wanted to see what lay beyond the array of vibrantly shimmering colors of that doorway in the clouds, to be surrounded by people like the Kurts and my own parents. But most of all I wanted to forever serve the Creator, who cared enough about me to extend an invitation even after all the evil I had done.

  Moving towards Flin, I started to mount him when I noticed his ears flicker and his head turn towards the path we had come through to reach this alpine valley. Moving around Flin’s head, I took in the unpleasant sight of a long line of at least eighty mounted riders stretched out across the narrow valley.

  The line continued to advance as I mounted Flin. Sensing the tension in the air, I could feel Flin tensing up to make a run for it if I needed him to. “It’s okay Flin,” I said, leaning forward and patting his neck. Obediently he stopped
nervously prancing and remained still, waiting for direction from me, one big mass of bunched up muscles. The riders drew closer and I saw that they weren’t Zoarinians.

  They were Valley Landers. I relaxed even more as I saw Seth and Rolf in the column of riders. The latter two rode out to me at a full gallop followed by the other riders at a more reserved pace. Seth leaped off his horse and I dismounted. He embraced me in a bear hug that I was ill prepared for and, grimacing slightly, I painfully returned it. Rolf, still seated on horseback, nodded his head silently in a welcoming gesture that I returned back to him.

  “Seth, stop mobbing him! Can’t you see he’s injured?”

  Seth stepped back and spread my vest back from the wound. Whistling through his teeth he shook his head, “Nasty, but not life threatening unless untreated. Here, sit down on this rock and we’ll get you fixed up in no time boss.”

  Seth moved off towards his horse’s saddle bags. Sitting down, I looked up at Rolf with a question in my eyes. Meeting my gaze he responded, “The children and Larc are safe.”

  Relieved, my attention shifted to the Valley Lander contingent of cavalry, who had pulled up all around us. Their leader was an older man with a grey streaked beard and long hair that matched. That was where the effects of advanced age seemed to stop. His eyes were alive with a quick intelligence and he no doubt could still handle himself as a warrior given his strong warrior bearing.

  “My name is General Nadero and it would appear that you have had a spot of trouble.”

  His words, while affable enough, didn’t reach his eyes. I could see that he was deeply troubled over the appearance of Zoarinian troops so far within the outer borders of the Valley Lands.

  I nodded my head in answer to his statement of fact.

  “A man of few words I see. A good way to be in these perilous days I think. There are far too many yokels spouting off everything in their head.”

  I was bemused at the sudden tirade by the older man. Somehow his eccentricity already had me liking him. “Pleased to meet you, General Nadero. I’m the son of Lorn Ta’lont and I wish to have safe passage into the Valley Lands.”

  “But of course, it is our honor to welcome you home after so long; the son of one of our heroes and one of our proudest families. It will bring great joy to the people to know that a Ta’lont has come back to us in these dark times.”

  Gesturing towards the fallen Zoarinians he asked, “Are there any more than these following you?”

  “No, I do not think so, but I cannot be sure of it.”

  “Well, let’s get out of this valley before any more of them do show up. Are you able to ride, Roric? You look a little roughed up there.”

  Seth had just finished wrapping my side, which felt better with the pressure of the bandage against it. I rose to my feet and mounted Flin, who ambled up at the sound of the whistle call that Eliak had taught me to use.

  One of the Valley Landers, intrigued by the uniqueness of my whistle call, tried to duplicate it. Flin didn’t even so much as bat an ear in his direction.

  “A fitting mount for a warrior such as yourself,” said General Nadero, in frank appreciation of Flin.

  “I need to meet with the high council as soon as possible General,” I said.

  “And so you shall,” General Nadero responded. “The high council is currently gathered at the Governor’s residence at Kingdom Pass. If we ride through the night we should be able to reach the wall by early morning tomorrow.”

  Swinging into the saddle had caused the gash in my side to twinge again and my desire to talk had diminished considerably, so I just nodded and turned Flin towards the pass in the mountains ahead, where the fabled wall of the Valley Lands was situated at the head where the mountains gave way to the interior recesses of the Valley Lands. Flin fell in with the rest of the column of riders as they headed toward the homeland that I had never seen.