The Silver Arrow

by Larry Itejere

  So he spun the log around, shifting from right to left as best he could with his legs tied closely together, which left him no real room to move. As Mosley fought for his life, he received several cuts to his arm, side, and thigh. An ax was thrown in his direction and he shifted.

  It flew past him landing in the forehead of an Agora, who dropped to the ground behind him. The ax handle resting in the forehead of the creature as he glanced at it was an Ackalan. Help had arrived, and in the nick of time.

  Just then, other Ackalans appeared. The Agoras around Mosley became unsure of what to do−continue with their attempt to kill him, attack the approaching Ackalans, or flee.

  They chose the latter and began to flee as they were pursued by the Ackalans on horseback.

  “Where is Iseac?” Tremay asked while Mosley was still trying to catch his breath.

  “He’s been taken by a different group not more than forty yards from here—”

  Before Mosley could finish his sentence, Tremay was already gone. Several of the Ackalans followed after him, trying to catch up. The soil was damp from morning dew, but they all felt the earth shake as if from a minor tremor. It caused the horses to slow down with fear. Tremay could see, between the trees, what looked like flames with images of people inside them. He jumped off his horse and began to run toward it when the flame disappeared.

  “We have to find him,” Tremay said as he picked up Iseac’s quarterstaff from the ground and moved toward the spot where Iseac would have been standing.

  Several of Tremay’s companions stood behind him, studying their surroundings. Tremay started walking back when one of his men came up to him.

  “We have several of them that are still alive,” he said, referring to the Agoras.

  “Good,” Tremay responded in a tone that held the low current of a tidal wave. “I need some answers,” he said under his breath as he made his way to Mosley.

  “Join me when you’re done,” he said to Mosley, who was free of his restraints and attending to his wounds.

  Chapter 18

  The Mist to Lufgard

  The woods were becoming denser the farther in Samuel went. Little rays of light snuck between the trees that seemed to hold the fog in place.

  Samuel was holding tightly to Durack’s reins as the horse continued to gallop in full stride and with poor visibility. It was hard for Samuel to see where he was heading, and this kept him on edge. He hoped the horse’s keen senses would keep them both alive; while his present predicament was at the forefront of his mind, the other part of him still felt guilty for leaving Iseac and Mosley even though he knew he was weaponless, as his quiver was empty of arrows.

  “You could do nothing; you would have only been a hindrance,” the rational part of him kept saying, but it provided no consolation. Tightening his grip on Durack’s reins, Samuel slowed the horse down to a canter, and then to a trot to give himself time to think.

  He remembered his promise to Iseac that he would go to Bremah, and if he turned back to help, he would be breaking that promise.

  Durack continued to move, slowing some as Samuel contemplated what to do next. Deep in thought, Samuel did not notice the needle from a piece of broken branch dangling on his trouser just above his right boot. The needle pricked his leg, drawing him out of his musing as he jerked, instinctively bending down to remove the branch. At that instant, he heard three darting sounds in rapid succession on the tree beside him.

  He did not have to look at what he knew were clearly the sounds of fired arrows or where they came from. Without thinking, Samuel tugged on Durack’s reins, sending the horse into motion. He knew instinctively, even as fear took hold of him, that riding from right to left in a zigzag pattern gave him less chance of been hit, so he held on as tree branches swatted his sides along the way.

  Upset at their wasted chance, having been so close, the Golans sat on their horses, watching with their arrows drawn, looking for a better shot. Samuel disappeared into the fog.

  One had aimed for his head, the other two his heart. If it wasn’t for his sudden move, they would have been done, but now he was on the move again with the fog obscuring their vision.

  They sent their horses into motion following after him; soon enough, they would get their shot.

  Samuel kept Durack at a gallop while laying low, now that he knew he was being followed by the same horsemen that had appeared with the Agoras.

  “Idiot, did you think they were just going to let you leave?” he said to himself, his cloak tugging his neck as it flapped behind him.

  Ignoring the choking sensation, Samuel kept his pace, not wanting to take any chances.

  The land sloped down slightly as he rode, his teeth chattering at the hard pace he was going. It wasn’t long before he could feel a difference in the air. It was heavier, with the cool breeze of the coast mixed with the smell of fish, smoke, dirt, and an assortment of other things. A few minutes later, he could hear the lively buzz of a busy town. He was getting close. In between the trees, he was soon able to see rooftops, then people moving along a footpath about twenty yards from his clearing. He shifted Durack to his right, staying inside the tree line.

  He spotted several old buildings ahead that looked like inns, from what he could see. The fourth building would be the shortest distance from his position.

  Samuel burst into the clearing, slowing Durack to a canter halfway from the crowd, and even as the horse was coming to a stop, he dismounted. He barely kept his feet under him as he landed. The momentum sent him into a running motion as he ran into the crowd holding on to Durack’s reins.

  ********

  With the fog lifted, the Golans could see better closer to the tree line, and one of them spotted Samuel between the trees. “There,” he said, pointing, and they followed in a gallop with their arrows still notched.

  The Golans approached the edges of the tree line where Samuel had veered right, still hidden from view. They could see horse tracks from their position that joined the crowd down the slope, but he was gone. They stood there for a minute, looking, before turning their horses around and riding back into the woods.

  Even moving within the crowd, Samuel kept looking over his shoulder at the tree line, expecting his assailants to burst out into the open. He saw nothing, but kept searching until his view became obscured by one of the old buildings.

  *********

  Still tense, Samuel looked around as people passed by; after a minute, he decided to look for an inn while trying not to be conspicuous. Until this point, he hadn’t given any thought to how he would get to Bremah.

  He decided to dig through Iseac’s saddlebag and was relieved to find a purse of coin buried underneath a bunch of clothes. Looking around, he chose an inn called the Fishers Bait and made his way in.

  The place was packed with travelers from different parts of the world. From the way some of them were dressed, and from what Faray had once told him on one of their trips to Bayshia, these were sailors.

  He’d never seen so many gathered in one place, and he was beginning to wonder if the town was a shipping port. Samuel also realized that he was the youngest person in the room. For this early in the morning, the place was reasonably packed, with a few open tables and chairs aged from long use. A young woman was cleaning one of the tables. She had some resemblance to the man behind the bar. His daughter, maybe, Samuel thought.

  The slim man behind the bar was past his middle years, with the skin of one who has spent more than a considerable amount of time under the open sky. His eyes were sharp and he had a beak of a nose.

  “Welcome to Fishers Bait, young master,” the man said in that friendly tone unique to most innkeepers. “What can I get for you?” he asked.

  “Something hot…and maybe information,” Samuel said almost as an afterthought.

  “Leera!” he called to the young woman cleaning a table. “Could you get our young master here something hot from the kitchen?”

  “So what would you like to
know?” the innkeeper asked Samuel.

  “Do you know of any ships leaving directly for Bremah from this port? Or one heading that way?”

  “Well, there aren’t really that many that go from Lufgard to Bremah directly; they normally stop at Kadan’s Gate first. But…” He paused for a second. “You might be in luck, if what I heard one of The Night Meadow crewmen say is true.”

  The sound of a swinging double door drew the innkeeper’s attention for a brief second to the person who was approaching. It was the young woman returning with a tray that held a bowl of soup and flat bread.

  The innkeeper returned his attention back to Samuel.

  “Where can I find this ship?”

  “Oh…yes, just follow the Hallboat Road, you can’t miss it. Find the first mate. They are normally the loudest people.”

  “Thank you,” Samuel said, placing four copper coins on the table instead of three.

  “I don’t charge customers for information.”

  “I know, but I want to,” Samuel said.

  “Well, then, I better be returning to my other customers.” He swept the coins of the table and left.

  Samuel hurriedly finished his soup. It was nice and hot with chunks of fresh fish, but he ate it absentmindedly, his thoughts now set on that ship, even though he was still concerned about the danger out there, which kept him vigilant.

  Samuel tried to focus on his bowl of soup, but he continued to scan the tables around him for the eyes he felt were watching him; each time, it was the same. No one was looking.

  He took even more caution when he was out of the inn, making sure to stay within or close to other groups heading in the same direction. When he realized he would have no cover on Hallboat Road, he got on Durack and galloped as fast as he could till the ships hidden behind tall oak trees came into view.

  He’d never seen such massive structures floating on water before; from his count, there were six of them, with the pier extending far into the river. He dismounted and started walking along the pier looking for the ship known as The Night Meadow. The ships were magnificent as he went on each dock, and on the fourth one, he found it.

  The ship was made of dark oak with the base painted black; like the others, it was well kept. The wood was so well polished that even with its weathered look, it still had some of its luster. Three massive poles like spires rose from the ship, with massive fabrics rolled up on poles across them.

  As Samuel drew closer to the front of the ship, he could hear the voice of a man speaking at the top of his lungs some distance away. The first mate, he thought, as he passed the wooden stairs that led into the ship, guarded by one of the crewmen, who was watching everyone passing by.

  “I already have enough dead weight now; pick it up,” continued the voice that was now clearer. “Move it, we don’t have all day. Be careful with that.” The first mate did not cease his endless stream of remarks that the crew took in stride as they moved cargo into the ship. Nothing escaped his gaze, and you could tell looking at the crew that they knew it too.

  “How does one secure a place on a ship?” he wondered, unsure of what to do as people walked past him. He stopped an older man with thinning gray hair. He looked local and someone who would know what to do.

  “I need a place on this ship,” he said, pointing. “Do you know where I can secure a pass?”

  “Yes,” he said nasally, “you have to talk to that man over there.” He pointed to a figure on the dock.

  “Thank you,” Samuel said just as the man lifted the handle to his cart and walked away with the wheel squeaking behind him.

  He was glad to know it wasn’t the first mate he had to deal with, until he saw who he was supposed to barter with−he looked even more menacing. But he was determined. He remembered how his father dealt with different traders. Composing himself, he walked over to the man who held the fate of his family.

  After the bartering deal was done, Samuel had secured a pass to the ship without losing everything in his purse. He made his way through the crowd by the dock to the ship.

  Once cleared, he began making his way up the wooden stairs with Durack, who was skittish even for a well trained horse. As Samuel made his way up the steps, he noticed a well dressed man in fine linen moving through the crowd that parted on his approach. He was accompanied by eight others whose clothes were well cut, but not as fine. A high nobleman, he suspected, as they rode to the first mate.

  Seeing the nobleman approaching, the first mate bowed his head in greeting, and the man acknowledged his salute with a wave of his hand.

  After a few seconds of watching them talk, the first mate left his post and began to personally escort the Lord with his entourage, who followed behind him.

  Samuel and his roommates were settling in when a broad-shouldered crewman walked into their cabin.

  “I need all of you out,” the crewman said, gesturing to everyone in his view. The man’s shirt was partly unbuttoned in the front, with his well-defined muscular arms showing in his sleeveless shirt. No one said anything at first, as everyone began gathering their things.

  Samuel, like everyone else, recognized the man immediately; he was the one who had checked his pass before he boarded the ship.

  He followed his cabin mates, unsure of what was going on or the reason why they were being moved; the little sense of safety he’d been fostering was beginning to disappear.

  “Why?” he thought to himself in despair, wondering if he was ever going to get a break. Nothing seemed to be going his way.

  “What is going on?” one of the passengers asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, just watch your head as you step out,” the crewman replied.

  “Head down, please,” the man said once they were outside on the deck, gesturing for them to continue.

  Forming a single file, they began making their way down the wooden steps that could admit two at a time. As Samuel approached the steps with several of his cabin mates already down and waiting in a cluster at the dock, he heard the familiar voice of the first mate.

  “We only need six, Rex. The rest of them can stay.”

  Those words did not sink in at first until Samuel saw the woman in front of him stop midway, turn, and began making her way back up. He was suddenly flooded with relief. Those that were off the ship swarmed the first mate, their voices rising as they gathered around him.

  Samuel went back to his small corner of the room, and soon a new group stepped down into the cabin. They were all well dressed and some of them looked around in disgust. These people were part of the group that came in with the wealthy Lord. It all made sense, then; they were the reason why some of the people in his cabin were removed from the ship.

  Samuel placed his hands behind his head as he laid back; for the first time in a long time, the knot he felt in his stomach seem to slowly loosen.

  After a few minutes of men screaming overhead on opposite sides of the ship, they finally left the docks. He felt the strange sensation of the ship in motion. They were on their way; Samuel took in several deep breaths and closed his eyes, not thinking for once about what lay ahead.

  Chapter 19

  New Revelation

  “We have to find him.” Mosley heard Tremay saying as he approached. His commander was staring into the distance, his cloak as still as the man wrapped in it.

  “Tracking him will be a little more challenging now…and the Agoras are as useful to us as stone,” Tremay said. “I can’t let them go, nor do I wish their lives ended.”

  His commander’s deep and level tone carried the strength and power of a man whose physical and mental state was sharper than a razor’s edge. Mosley knew he was already formulating a plan even as he spoke.

  “There are rumors that they’ve been attacking small towns and villages, and what I saw here confirms my fear. Whoever commands them is getting bolder, sending them this far for the Anamerian.”

  Even as Tremay was talking, they heard a snarling sound. It came f
rom one of the Agoras who had regained consciousness, the noise cutting between Tremay’s sentences.

  They did not turn to see what was going on, ignoring the sound that was a few yards from them, confident that the Agoras would be dead if they made any sudden move or were any threat.

  “Since they don’t speak in our tongue,” Tremay said as if he was never interrupted, “trying to forcefully extract the information from them will achieve nothing. What I need is someone that can retrieve the information directly from their heads. We need to send word to the Patrons, but first I need to know what happened here.”

  “The Agoras were led by a human,” Mosley said, describing their leader as best he could remember. “The man also commanded a team of Golans.”

  Those words had Tremay turn to face Mosley; there was a quizzical look in his eyes, a little flicker that, for Mosley, spoke volumes, coming from his commander.

  “We were heading to Bayshia from Tru’tia when we were drawn by an unusual scene that led us into Chartum-Valley. We found the town’s courier dead on the road from arrows that were Golan’s. The town, for the most part, was burnt to the ground. Everything in this town−from the buildings, its people, and even their livestock−was destroyed.

  “It appeared from the carnage that nothing was spared, but we found an only survivor. A young man named Samuel. Actually,” he said, pausing to rephrase the statement, “he found us. During the siege, he and his family found refuge in what used to be a mining tunnel, but they were discovered. Samuel managed to escape, but his mother and brother were captured.

  “Samuel said he saw his family consumed in flames that did not burn the way normal fire did.”

  It would have been hard to believe until he saw it with his own eyes, Tremay realized. “And how did he describe it?” he asked.

  “He said he saw a man create a ball of fire in his hand that expanded till it enveloped everything around the wagon that held his family just before it disappeared. The young man was one of the people we were going to search for in Bayshia, and were surprised to find in Chartum-Valley. The Anamerian promised to help Samuel find his family. Why, I don’t know, but first he wanted to get him to a Patron.