Warriors of the Heynai

by M J Webb

  Princess Zephany had beat the odds and survived! Only perhaps one in a thousand could make such a leap and live to tell the tale. But, in her agony, she forgot all about the terrifying creatures that were still hunting her. The noise she had made when she resurfaced was very loud, too loud not to be heard.

  However, the violent struggle she had fought against the river and its currents had taken several minutes to eventually win. In that time she had been swept a long way downstream and the graxoth and sraine were now hunting for her in completely the wrong place, far away from her actual position. They were hovering just above the waterline way upstream. She heard them screech and squawk angrily as they failed to find any sign of their prey. She watched them briefly, trying her best to remain low in the water and very still, so that they would not detect her movement. It was enough time for her to reflect on her miraculous good fortune, as she drifted naturally along in the water, round a bend in the river and out of sight.

  The river Ugrath was very wide at this point. Zephany was now slap bang in the middle of it. She looked wearily over to the far bank. She had to reach it if she was going to be able to continue her journey. But her strength had all but deserted her by now and she had absolutely nothing left to give. It was all she could do to keep herself afloat. Still, she tried her best to swim to it.

  Once again though, the currents seemed to be working against her. The freezing waters began to stiffen her limbs and she just could not make any progress, no matter how hard she tried. Her arms flailed wildly as desperation. Frustration set in. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She was now completely exhausted and just about ready to give up. She had never felt so helpless, so alone.

  In her despair she turned instinctively, without even realising it, to the one person she had always been able to rely on in times of need. The person she trusted above all, including her own father.

  “Knesh, help me!” she called out weakly, close to losing consciousness and no longer caring who was around, who would hear her plea. “I cannot do this. I am beaten. I do not have the strength.” Princess Zephany was past the point of no return now, she was seconds away from death.

  Then, inexplicably, everything changed. It was almost as if she was dreaming. Her freezing body suddenly began to feel warm again. Her strength began to return from out of nowhere, and her stiff and rigid muscles began to ease. She shook her head in an attempt to move her wet and bedraggled hair away from her eyes, closing them naturally as she did.

  When she opened them again she bore witness to a full blown miracle. She could not believe what she was seeing. There, floating just above the waves was Knesh Corian!

  She knew immediately that this ghostly vision of her father’s best friend and Gerada could not be real, it was impossible. ‘I must be delirious,’ she thought, ‘Knesh is dead. He died in Erriard forest, fighting valiantly against Sawdon and the Northern Army so that my father and Ben could escape. There is no way he can be here now. It has to be a dream, a mirage, a figment of my imagination.’

  But, Princess Zephany was wrong. Knesh was there. The Heynai had been watching her struggle to survive. They were so immensely impressed and moved by her courage and determination that they had decided to act. They had made up their minds then and there to help her in any way they could. They immediately summoned Knesh’ spirit from the gates to the afterlife and sent him to help her, to aid her in her fight from beyond the grave. In Knesh, they had recruited a willing volunteer. Zephany was completely oblivious; she knew nothing of the helping hand the mystical beings were giving her, and what it meant. She was just delighted and overwhelmed to see her mentor again, and enthralled by the fact that he had answered her call for help.

  “Knesh! I knew you would come to me. I knew you would not forsake me. Am I dead? I do not feel it. What then? I cannot do this thing, I cannot reach the other side, the waters are too strong for me. I am sorry, I have let everyone down. It is no use, my strength returns but it is not enough, it is too far.”

  The ghostly apparition of her father’s Gerada smiled warmly at her. He gazed lovingly into her eyes as he spoke, as if she were his own daughter. “Child, listen to me. I did not raise you to give in at the first sign of trouble. You have been taught to be stronger than that. Think of your future subjects, they need you to be tough right now, your father needs you. Raar! The Keeper needs you! You stand at the crossroads, Princess. It is the fork in the road that every warrior reaches at some point in their life, that moment when you have given everything you have to give for a noble cause, when you can bleed no more, and it is still not enough. When your strength deserts you, you dare not fail and you are alone, when you have absolutely nothing left inside of you but the will and resolve to keep on going… Tell me my child, in such circumstances, what do you do?”

  Princess Zephany inhaled another deep breath of fresh air as she bobbed up and down in the freezing waters. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fist, she replied to the question with an answer that came instinctively, straight from her heart.

  “Fight!!!”

  She kicked out hard for the bank once more, this time with renewed strength and speed that came out of nowhere. The amazingly strong and vicious currents still hampered her efforts, but they were no match for her additional energy now and she slowly began to make headway against them, inching her way painfully through the waters and across the swirling river.

  “That is it! Fight, Princess, fight!” cried Knesh proudly, doing his best to encourage her. “Not far now, keep going, these waters are just another enemy that needs to be vanquished. They are nothing to fear, they are no match for you. Never forget who you are and where you come from. I will always be watching over you. I will never leave you.”

  And with that the mighty warrior’s image disappeared. The vision vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Zephany was once again alone. She dragged her exhausted frame up onto the river bank and collapsed under the branches of a huge, overhanging tree.

  “Sqquaawwkk….!”

  The last remaining graxoth and sraine suddenly flew low overhead as they continued their frantic and desperate search of the river looking for Zephany or any sign of her corpse, unaware that they had just flown straight over her concealed position.

  Miraculously, or more accurately due to Knesh’ impeccable timing and judgement, the thick branches of the tree above had saved the Princess’ life. She did not know it yet for she was barely conscious, but she had managed to narrowly avoid being spotted by only a matter of seconds.

  The last remnants of daylight were by now fading fast. Darkness had descended quickly upon the river and the evil assassins had no choice but to reluctantly concede that they were not going to find the young warrior that night. They each gave one last agonising cry of fury and frustration, before they turned around and set off to report the news of the Princess’ disappearance to a no doubt incensed King Vantrax.

  Zephany was cold and exhausted. After a few minutes though, she recovered a little, her mind reviving well before the rest of her shattered body, which just did not seem to want to respond to her continued attempts to stand.

  ‘I have to keep going, I have to keep moving, or I will most certainly die from this bitter cold!’ she told herself. ‘I am lost in enemy held territory, in my current condition it is all I can do just to stand upright, never mind walk! I am too weak to fight if I have to, too exhausted to defend myself if attacked, and I still have to break through the Southern Army lines to reach Dassilliak! This is impossible! No warrior has ever undertaken such a journey.’

  Her heart was pounding. The blood was boiling in her veins now and a sudden furious resolve gripped her. ‘No! I refuse to give in! As long as I have breath left in my body I will try to complete my mission!’

  She dragged herself up slowly and painfully. She dusted herself down and wiped away as much of the water and mud from her body and clothes as she could. Amazingly, her trusty bow was still strung tightly across her chest, tho
ugh Zephany could scarcely believe it had withstood the battering of the river. The quiver contained only three arrows, the remainder having fallen out as she had thrashed around in the water. Her sword was still sheathed and the daggers in her boots were still firmly in place.

  ‘Well, at least I have the means to defend myself, once my strength has returned.’

  “Raaar! Come on!” she roared. “Just place one foot in front of the other, and let us see how far it takes us. For Rhuaddan and for Estia!”

  Princess Zephany began her painful trudge towards Dassilliak, even though she knew in her own mind that she had no realistic hope of reaching the city. But, not long afterwards, just as the last remaining ounces of energy and determination were oozing out of her shattered body, she saw a wondrous sight. Her beloved horse, last seen galloping away over the Ugrath Bridge to escape from the terrifying graxoth, was trotting excitedly towards her! She could not believe it at first. Her eyes began to fill immediately with tears of relief and joy.

  The stallion had been combing the countryside in search of his mistress ever since they had been parted. The unusually close bond they shared had compelled him to search far and wide and refuse to give up until he found her. How the creature had come to search in such a remote region, in this particular area of land so far away from the bridge, was a complete mystery. When he reached her, Zephany hugged his neck ecstatically and whispered several words of thanks into his ear. Then she dragged her aching frame into the saddle, using up all her remaining strength. She turned it gently in the direction of Dassilliak.

  “Let us go my old friend, you and I have an appointment to keep,” she stated softly, a weary but thankful smile upon her face.

  Horse and rider journeyed southwards all that night until finally, almost by accident, they stumbled upon the Southern Army battlelines. Zephany was asleep in the saddle. She had dosed off several times along the journey through sheer exhaustion, flopping across her horse’s neck but somehow managing to remain seated on her mount. As they neared the enemy encampment, her experienced horse sensed the danger that lurked nearby and warned his mistress by shaking his head.

  “Wh…? What is it boy?”

  Zephany woke instantly and knew instinctively that something was wrong. She patted the stallion’s neck to calm and thank him. Then, she silently unslung her bow and pulled out two arrows from her quiver. Placing one of them in her teeth, she carefully positioned the other against the string and wrapped her two fingers tightly around it, so that she was ready to fire if necessary.

  Unbeknown to the young royal, she had actually enjoyed yet another piece of remarkable good fortune. She had reached a part of the Southern Army battleline which was only lightly defended. It was a small ravine which narrowed sharply at its end to a point which was overlooked by two enormous, overhanging rocks. The Southern Army besieging Dassilliak were camped on the other side of the pass but the small trail which led through to the city was not well guarded. King Vantrax’ forces were spread thinly in this region and had no reason to expect an attack from the north. No word had yet reached this sector of King Artrex’ march and they had therefore positioned only a small contingent of soldiers defending the pass, which was considered ideal ground for ambush and unlikely to be attacked. Two small groups of warriors were defending it and they were stationed on both peaks. They had secured the best vantage points for miles from which to survey the surrounding countryside. As it was now the dead of night, these parties had been reduced even further to a single sentry who stood on top of each rock, both of whom were silhouetted against the light emitted by the open fires they had struck to keep the cold night chill at bay.

  Zephany hugged her horse’s mane, deliberately staying as low as possible as the stallion picked its way silently and slowly along the edge of the stream which ran through the centre of the ravine. She hoped to remain undetected, but the noise her horse’s hooves made on the many rocks under its feet alerted the guards. The soldiers walked quickly to the edge of the rocks to see who it was approaching their position. Zephany caught sight of their outlines at the same time.

  Two speeding arrows flew from her bow in quick succession. They thundered into the warrior’s chests with deadly accuracy. The soldiers fell to the ground without making a sound. Zephany continued her ride as silently as she could, she now had only one arrow remaining and she was hoping and praying that no further enemy would bar her path. Her horse seemed to sense the need for stealth. It meandered its way along the side of the stream until it came to a natural bend, where it changed direction and walked slowly and silently through some nearby trees.

  Zephany found herself inside the main enemy camp. Her heart was racing and her hands began to shake as she rode straight through the sleeping creatures and men of the Southern Army. She held her breath and made no sound. It seemed to take an age to clear the camp. She was expecting to be challenged by a sentry at any moment. Her sole remaining arrow was at the ready in her bow just in case. But unbelievably, nothing happened. No one stirred as she passed silently by tents, horses, weapons caches and siege towers, the size of which suddenly made the Princess feel incredibly small and insignificant. Her astonishing progress continued unchecked. Zephany was astounded.

  ‘I am actually going to make it!’ she thought, amazed by the absence of more guards.

  But suddenly, when she had almost cleared their lines, an almighty Taskan roar sounded behind her and she knew for certain that she had been spotted. Then, an arrow whizzed past her head so closely that it marked her cheek, as if to emphasize the point and remove any lingering doubt. She kicked her horse hard in a frantic attempt to escape!

  The stallion reared a little and then galloped away from the camp as fast as it could. A second later the peace of night was shattered by the shouts and cries of her enemies. More arrows began flying past her head and body. Though she could not see them, she knew that they were missing her by only the smallest of margins. She was convinced that one would hit her soon. She weaved her horse violently and ducked down as low as she could to present a smaller target, hoping that the dark of night would soon see her out of range of the archers.

  She was almost through the encampment now, the city of Dassilliak loomed large on the horizon and its great walls became fully visible when she crested the next rise. She began to think that there was hope, that she could make it through. But then, a glint of metal reflecting in the moonlight caught her eye. Three Nadjan knights of the advance guard suddenly jumped out of the bushes ahead of her to block her path. Their swords were drawn and poised to strike as they made ready to bring her horse down.

  The warrior Princess responded to the new threat as she saw it, just in the nick of time and with astonishing speed. Her last remaining arrow brought the lead warrior down almost immediately and, even before it had entered the young soldier’s flesh, the Princess had already reached inside her boot and launched a throwing knife at the second of the knights. The third was despatched in the same way, with another of her concealed knives. Despite riding her horse at the gallop and erratically changing directions to avoid being hit, Zephany’s daggers hit both of the enemy warriors squarely in the chest, in an extraordinary display of skill which any soldier alive would have been proud of. But once again, not a soul was there to witness it.

  This was the army which had laid siege to Dassilliak and terrorised the local population. Zephany could scarcely believe her good fortune. The Southern Army had obviously grown complacent. She knew that she had been extremely lucky to survive. It was now only a short ride to the city walls but, concerned about the possibility and likelihood of pursuit and determined not to be caught, the young Princess pushed her horse on furiously. She reached the wall to the city and shouted up to the ramparts as she approached, screaming at the defenders.

  “Open the gates in the name of King Artrex!”

  She was mightily relieved when her frantic request was granted and a smaller door to the side of the main gates was opened for her. S
he raced through it at high speed and it slammed shut behind her. Zephany had done it! At the end of an epic journey of unbelievable dangers and hardship, she had reached the city. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Well done!” she hissed to her exhausted horse, gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “Stay where you are!!! Raise your hands above your head, if you wish to live! If you reach for your weapons, we shall kill you!” shouted a deep, hostile voice.

  Zephany lifted her head wearily to find that she was now surrounded by soldiers with their weapons drawn. She had no choice but to comply with the instructions.

  “Who are you? What do you want here?” demanded the warrior.

  Zephany’s heart was racing now, she was completely at her captor’s mercy and she knew it.

  “Srr… I shall not resist, good knight. I am no threat to you, or your people. Please, take me to your leaders, I have a very important message that I must deliver to them.”

  The Alliance warriors clearly did not know what to make of their prisoner. For a brief moment their weapons remained pointed threateningly at her head. Then they lowered them when it became evident that she had no hostile intent, allowing her to speak freely. In her highly emotional state the royal teenager just about managed to explain her story to their leader. She answered all of his questions and when she had finished, though he obviously had not made up his mind whether to believe her tale, he took hold of her horse’s reigns.

  “Come with me, ‘Princess.’ If what you say is true, your journey has been long.”

  Zephany smiled gratefully and then collapsed again over her horse’s neck. She rubbed and patted him gently. Then she whispered softly in his ear.

  “We have done it boy. We have done it!”

  Chapter 14

  23rd August – Dassilliak - Perosya