“We already have one,” Targon said. “Get some sleep, Will, we wake early and it’s over a half day’s walk to my home.”
Targon awoke the next morning well before dawn. He got a rude awakening from Core, who had returned and seemed to understand what was happening. Quickly, he woke Salina, who woke the others, and he turned to gather his things. Soon, the entire company was huddled around the dead fire with only the reddish glow of the hot embers to illuminate them.
“Marissa, take them north but stay out of sight of the river. Remember when we gathered the wild cabbages before I left?” Marissa nodded her head. “Stay to that game trail and follow the river but don’t pass a large granite boulder just at the edge of the forest. I doubt you’ll reach it before we catch up to you as it would take you most of the day to find it, but if you do reach it, then stay inside the trees and wait for us there.”
“You sure you want to do this, my lady?” Agatha asked, concern in her voice.
“We’ll be fine, Agatha. Just take care of the others, and especially my little Karz,” Salina responded, hugging Karz tightly and pulling his small cloak tightly around his waist. “All right now, off you all go. Don’t wait for us and don’t look back.”
Soon, the ladies and children, led by Marissa, were lost to sight. Jons was in the front with her and his newly acquired blade. Will did look back as he wielded his broadsword in one hand and was practically using it as a crutch with Agatha doting after him.
Targon had only been to the brigand camp one time, but he led the way. His eyesight in the dark was superior to any others, and he felt comfortable in the forest. Salina followed, and then came Thomas and Cedric, and Horace led up the rear with Core tracking him just a few yards off to his side. Targon wasn’t sure, but he thought he faintly heard Horace exclaim, “Bloody hell,” when he realized the bear was near him. Emelda had almost cried as she hugged him good-bye that morning, so Targon was hoping Horace didn’t have any more excitement this morning.
Soon, they arrived at the hollowed tree where Cedric had taken cover with Thomas. Core seemed to stay deeper in the forest out of sight while Targon, Salina, and Horace lay flat on the berm and peered over its edge.
It was still dark, but a faint glow was growing in the east and the fires from the brigand camp had not dwindled to embers like their own campfire had, but instead they were fed with a deep black oil. They illuminated the camp, and already it was alive with movement. The rafts were all moved down the small bank and laid up against the shore. They must have done that overnight. Soon, even the crude tents were being taken down and stowed, and other brigands donned leather armor and took cruel-looking blades from their arm’s stack and sheathed them to their belts around their waists. The elaborate tent in the center of the camp was taken down last, and Targon clearly saw the young man who was dressed differently standing on the bank and looking across the river.
“Duck!” Targon hissed, feeling stupid for being so casual about the entire ordeal. “That unusual-looking brigand seems to be a leader. We’ll need to target him first if he crosses.”
Salina and Horace nodded and looked at Targon. “Give the word, lad, and we shoot,” Horace finally whispered back. Targon nodded and motioned for them to stay down, and slowly peered over the berm again.
The first raft was being pushed into the river, and at least three brigands were holding onto a rope as it was looped around a lanyard lashed to the raft so it wouldn’t quickly flow downstream. Two of the brigands then let go of the rope and grabbed long poles, and they were using them to steady the raft as it slowly started to move against the strong downstream currents, with the third brigand keeping an eye on the rope lashed to the raft itself. Three more brigands stood or squatted in the middle of the raft, trying to keep their balance.
Targon motioned for the others to fall back behind the berm and for Cedric and Thomas to join them. “I see only those six on that first raft. I think they intend to cross slowly at first and then secure the rope on this side of the river. This gives me an idea . . .”
Slowly, the raft moved across the river, and at one point, the third brigand had to grab the last pole and jab it into the riverbed from the north end of the raft, helping his comrades keep the raft from floating downstream. The other two brigands were using their poles from the south end to keep the raft crossing horizontally and not being swept downstream. The three brigands in the middle of the raft actually took a knee and used their hands to balance themselves and not fall.
Finally, after close to ten minutes, the raft reached the eastern bank and the third brigand grabbed the rope, jumping off the raft and moving toward the nearest tree less than ten feet from the water’s edge.
The three brigands in the middle of the raft also alighted, leaping into the shallower waters of the eastern bank. One brigand was armed with a crossbow while the other two drew swords. The three brigands then fanned out in a semicircle around the tree where their fellow soldier was securing the rope, and the other two brigands used their poles to stick them deeply in the muddy floor of the river, keeping the raft from moving till the rope was secure.
“Hoi, Chief, all ready here,” the rope-securing brigand yelled out, jumping back onto the raft and grabbing the long length of rope now secured to both banks. Both of the other two brigands dropped their poles and grabbed the same rope that now hung across the entire width of the river. In the center of the river, the rope almost sagged into the water. With great effort, the three brigands pulled the raft across the river and back to the west side.
Soon, each of the four rafts were in the water, and at least a dozen brigands stepped onto each raft, pushing off using their roughly hewn poles and grabbing the rope and pulling themselves across. At least four brigands, sometimes five, were heaving on the ropes, while two more had poles at each downstream corner of each raft. When the first raft was almost to the near shore and the last raft was well into the river, there was a blood-curdling roar of a wild beast.
An arrow suddenly appeared in the chest of the brigand standing to the south of the rope where it was tied to a tree on the eastern bank. A crossbow bolt implanted itself in the thigh of the crossbow-wielding brigand on shore, and a third bolt sailed far out over the river, disappearing from view close to the western bank.
“Ambush!” yelled the brigand with the crossbow as he ducked and fell to his stomach in pain, twisting the bolt in his leg to the side as he did so. He let loose his own bolt into the forest, not sure what he was aiming at. The brigand with the arrow in his chest had dropped dead, and his companion, unharmed, quickly took cover behind the tree with the rope, brandishing his wicked-looking curved blade.
Two brigands on the lead raft took up their crossbows and started to fire bolts into the woods behind their companions, while on the second raft, three more did the same. The second raft had the unusually dressed man on it with the staff, and Targon aimed his next arrow at him. The arrow, in an exceptionally unusual shot, lodged itself right into the metallic staff of the strangely dressed man, wedging itself between the metal staff itself and the colorful gem that was set upon its top, saving the man’s life. This, however, had the effect of surprising the staff-wielding man and hitting with such force that he stepped backward, tripping over the leg of a brigand and falling to the floor of the raft.
Two sword-wielding brigands from the first raft, which had almost arrived on the near shore, jumped into the river water, which reached their necks. A huge brown shape ran from the forest and, ignoring the brigands near the tree on shore, leapt out in a long fifteen-foot leap, landing with its front paws on the raft but its rear paws in the water.
Core used his rear legs to try to scramble onto the raft, but the impact of the half-ton bear twisted the raft wildly around, unbalancing most of the standing brigands, who quickly fell either on the raft or in the cold, fast running river. When Core managed to bite the leg of the leading brigand holding ont
o the rope, the brigand released his hold on the guideline and the other brigands backed away, tilting the raft severely, almost capsizing it as it swiftly started to float downstream.
“Horace! Cover me now!” Targon yelled, loosing another arrow and then dropping his bow and pulling his axe from his belt. Targon ran from the cover of the forest toward the lone tree where the brigand rope was tied. Horace was firing from behind the cover of one tree while Cedric shot from another. Thomas and Salina were handing them crossbow bolts as they reloaded as fast as they could.
Targon saw Core finally scramble onto the first raft and take a bolt into his right rear flank. The bear roared so loudly that it could be clearly heard over the roar of the rapids in the river. Quickly, the bear mauled the crossbow-wielding brigand, and almost all the other brigands jumped into the water. Some were lucky and had taken off their swords and heavy belts while others did not expect to be in the water and were dragged into the deep waters by their blades and packs. The brigands only used toughened leather, dyed black for armor, so they didn’t sink as fast, but some could not swim, either.
Targon almost reached the tree with the rope when the brigand on his stomach loosed a bolt at his chest. Targon had held his axe forward, and the bolt hit the axe head, ricocheting off of it. Unfortunately, this threw Targon off balance, and he stumbled, falling just in front of the brigand with the crossbow, who was even now reloading. The axe had fallen from his hand and landed a few feet away. Other crossbow bolts were whizzing over his head.
Targon could see the brigands pulling hard to cross the river as fast as possible, and the second raft was quickly approaching the shoreline. Too late, he saw the brigand on shore with his crossbow, now rearmed and pointed at Targon’s head not ten feet away. He would die on the ground and leave his companions to their doom. He had failed them by not being able to cut the rope in time. Perhaps he had underestimated their odds?
“Now, Targon!” he heard Lady Salina scream as suddenly the feathered shaft of a bolt sprouted from the forehead of the brigand nearest to Targon, who dropped the loaded crossbow, dying instantly. Targon scrambled for his axe and looked back as he lay on the ground. He saw Lady Salina running toward him and the tree with her sword in her hand. He could see black bolts flying by her so closely that one even nicked her dress, tearing cloth from it. Targon could feel the anger rise in his heart, and, seeing her in danger, he felt the sudden rush of adrenaline as his mind willed his body into motion. With one fluid motion, he grabbed his axe and sprung back up onto his legs, quickly crossing the ten feet to the tree with the rope tied around it.
The last remaining brigand on shore knew he had to guard the tree and rope but was using it as cover by staying behind it, but now he stepped around the tree and faced Targon, swinging his curved blade in a long, hard stroke designed to separate Targon’s head from his body. Targon saw it coming easily, and he felt the battle was so surreal as if the man was moving in slow motion.
Targon quickly ducked the blow and had to use his hands to steady himself on the ground, making the use of his axe nearly impossible, so instead of trying to strike a blow with his weapon, Targon finished his somersault and came out of the roll with a double-legged kick right into the brigand’s torso. This arrested Targon’s momentum, and the brigand flew onto his back a few feet away. Lady Salina ran by Targon and, with a pointed thrust, skewered the brigand in his heart, killing the Kesh instantly.
“Get down, Mother!” Cedric yelled from the forest line.
Salina looked at Targon. “Cut the rope!” she screamed, and then suddenly two bolts protruded from her body, knocking her to the ground.
“No!” Cedric yelled, and Targon looked back to see him running toward his mother, crossbow in hand. He looked at Lady Salina, seeing she had fallen on her back, an ashen look on her face. She did not move. Targon leaped at the tree and, in one stroke, severed the rope, releasing its secure hold to the tree and from the eastern bank.
Cries could be heard from the brigands as they desperately tried to hang onto the line as they were swiftly being pulled downstream. Targon grabbed the loaded crossbow from the dead brigand’s hands and aimed it at the lead raft, lining it up and pulling the trigger at the first brigand he saw who had the rope. The brigand fell dead, losing his hold, and the raft floated downstream quicker.
Cedric knelt next to his mother and took only a quick look at her before he, too, loosed his bolt. He aimed it at the second raft as the first, with Core, was already far downstream and empty. His bolt hit home and another brigand fell. Chaos reigned on the rafts as they twirled in the swiftly running water while brigands tried to secure them to the rope that was still tied to the western shore around a huge boulder near the water’s edge. Targon saw Horace arrive with his bow, and he looked to the nearest raft where the strangely dressed man had regained his footing and was kneeling now on one knee, steadying himself with his metal staff.
Horace’s bolt headed right at the man, who pointed the staff at them, and a ball of fire left the staff, incinerating Horace’s bolt in mid-flight, turning it instantly into ash. The ball of fire flamed over their heads, hitting the tree behind them, and Targon could feel the intense heat as the tree caught fire. Magic! Targon thought to himself suddenly as he looked in awe at the man on the raft and wondered at the power to wield fire. Before he could think to do a thing, the last brigand holding the rope was dropped by another bolt from Cedric, and the second raft quickly twirled in the water, whisking the wizard away as he tried to stand and face them, a look of shock on the man’s face.
Thomas had also arrived with Targon’s bow. Targon took the bow and pulled arrow after arrow from his quiver as he rained down death from the riverbank. Soon, the third raft was quickly disappearing from sight, as it, too, had lost its handlers and was swept along the river at a rapid pace, several brigands leaping into the water and swimming toward the west bank. Targon noted the last raft had managed to return to the western shore, but it was a good fifty yards south of the crossing area and several brigands had jumped onto the bank, returning missile fire at them.
“Time to leave!” Horace said, tugging on Cedric’s tunic.
“We can’t leave her here!” Cedric yelled as he tried to load another bolt and fire back at the brigands on the far shore.
Targon quickly shouldered his bow and belted his axe, and he leaned down, ignoring the bolts from the far side of the river, and grabbed Lady Salina in his arms. Her head and legs flopped behind his arms, and he was surprised by how light she was. She was petite and slender, and Targon felt as if he was carrying his sister, Ann, when she had fallen asleep. Quickly, he ran back into the forest, followed by Horace and Cedric, carrying Salina in his powerful arms. Thomas grabbed her sword and ran as well, quicker than all of them, and they soon reached the relative safety of the trees. There were no more bolts flying around them.
“Mother, wake up!” Cedric said as they knelt around her. Her light blue dress was starting to turn a bright crimson color as her blood soaked into it. One bolt had penetrated her abdomen and the second was lodged in her left shoulder. Cedric started to caress her head while Targon supported it, and he saw that both Horace and Thomas had tears welling in their eyes.
“She’s breathing,” Horace exclaimed, leaning close to her and placing the side of his face right up to her mouth. “I can feel her breath. It’s faint but there.” Cedric reached for the nearest bolt, but Horace quickly grabbed his hand with an iron grip. “Don’t, boy, she’ll bleed to death if you take them out now.”
Cedric looked anguished as he wiped away a tear. “We have to do something! We can’t just leave them in her.”
There was a moment of silence before Targon spoke. “This is all my fault. I do know someone who can help us, but we need to get her to my home first before she dies.”
“You mean to carry her half a day’s walk, lad?” Horace asked.
“If I must,” Targon
replied, looking into their faces and seeing nothing but sorrow there, “but it will be best if we all shared the honor. Thomas, I’ll need you to carry what’s left of our quivers and both crossbows. They will be heavy. Can you do that?”
Thomas nodded as Horace slung one bow across his own back and gave the other to him. Cedric did not protest as his crossbow was given to Thomas. Horace took the lady’s sword and also secured it to his belt. “Right, let’s go?” Horace asked.
Targon stood with Lady Salina still cradled in his arms. “We go. I’ll carry her first, and then when I tire, you and Cedric will help.” Targon nodded at Horace.
“Bloody hell of a way to win a fight,” Horace said, standing and leading the way north toward the blind.
Khan was wet and livid with rage. His entire reinforced patrol was dead, scattered, or missing. Dorsun had either drowned or was missing, and most of their supplies were lost in the river or far downstream. Khan was forced to jump into the river and swim for the eastern shore when several miles downstream his raft jammed against a submerged tree and stuck in the river near the eastern shore. Most of the troopers on his raft were dead or injured, as they took the brunt of the missile assault by the Ulathans. Khan sat on the shore, breathing heavily as he looked around and saw only three others with him. Six were dead on the raft, their blood staining the brown wood in pools as it sloshed back and forth in the river, and three were missing, having fallen into the water.
The first raft had disappeared downstream, and his raft never passed it. That strange bear, having attacked his lead raft, was unnerving to him. It was as if the wild beast attacked his troopers with a purpose. He thought he saw the beast lumbering out of the water a couple of miles upstream, but his raft was twirling so wildly he couldn’t be sure of what he saw.
He replayed the attack in his mind. The Ulathans had first attempted to attack his small shore guard and cut the rope, but the second volley of arrows was definitely meant for him. Two of his troopers had fallen immediately, and just when he stood to unleash a fireball into the woods, an arrow had struck his staff, wedging itself between the metal and gemstone that was set at the top. The force of the arrow knocked the staff back into his head, and he fell over one of his own troopers, ruining his spell. Otherwise, he was sure he would have killed several of the ambushers. In fact, had he not fallen, he was sure he could have burned the bear severely and stopped the wild animal’s attack. He was grateful he maintained hold of the staff during his swim, as much of the wizard’s power was derived from it.
Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1 (Ranger Series) Page 21