by Nelson, J P
Looking quickly around, I saw Gohruvae was dead and Hoscoe was down and hurt badly. Under Hoscoe’s struggling horse I saw the Mark VII, busted. I grabbed a loose horse and saw a detachment of riders coming hard maybe two miles away. With all I had I pulled the wounded animal off of Hoscoe, and as the horse managed to get to its feet I grabbed Hoscoe up, slung him over my shoulder, and hoisted him onto my captured mount.
I would not leave the Mark VII to be examined by an enemy, so I grabbed it and fastened it quickly to the saddle horn and then put Hoscoe’s sword in its sheath and on my own back. I tried to summon another horse, but I couldn’t make it work. There was nothing else to do, so I jumped to the back of Hoscoe’s mount and smacked it into a dead run.
Cruelty to animals is against everything I believe, but Hoscoe was in a bad way and I had to get him out of there. I had a good idea where we were going and we went at it at full speed. The Arabian was a game animal and he gave it his heart. I knew they were behind us, and that they could see us. Running so hard would kill the horse, I knew, but the alternative was our own death.
I whipped that animal for everything and more as he ran all out, carrying nearly four hundred pounds to that cul-de-sac where I prayed I could speak the right words before the gate. We made the canyon, and far up the field was the ancient gate. A bolt hissed by me, and then I felt the horse shudder. Again I whipped him, a little further. Once more he shuddered.
Around a sharp bend in the canyon we ran until we came to the base of a steep incline leading to the gate. I tried to urge the horse up the hill but he just couldn’t make it, stumbling as he tried. With no time to spare I jumped off and pulled Hoscoe onto my shoulder. Grabbing the Mark VII I swung into the climb as the horse lurched away. I hoped the kingdom’s value and need of horses would lead them to care for the animal.
Eighty feet, I had to climb eighty feet to that ancient gate.
Inside I could feel energy, strong and ancient, and it made me tingle. They were getting closer and I could feel them rounding the bend. I contorted my throat and voiced the ancient tongue as it had been taught to me, “Ggjhnahk’a-Tahggk u’Sstukg nuk huil!”
Someone yelled from one hundred rods away, “Major Wolf, you’re trapped. Surrender and we won’t …”
The ground trembled and dust poured from the seams of the door. It opened outward, and revealed a great disk of shining gold which rolled to the left, revealing another which rolled to the right. Inside a long, winding pathway with crystals on the wall sides reportedly led through the mountain. The tunnel looked to be perfectly round with a ten feet wide floor and a ceiling fifteen feet high. The walls curved under the floor, as if the walkway were a later addition.
I had no idea what was going to happen, but I heard yells and a bolt hit me in the back, then another cut my scalp. Just inside the doorway I felt the bite of a bolt-head hit me solid in the leg, the point stopping at the front of my left thigh as I spun inward and commanded the doorway, “Kiug huel!.” The door closed as another bolt flew in and I heard yells of men on the outside.
The air was foul and I knew we were in a bad place. The air sucked its way down, and flames of brilliant colors shot up around us and in a circular pattern, tracing the placement of the crystals. The floor was covered in sheets of flame, but the magic in my boots protected my feet from the fire … but what fire? Could anyone comprehend the tunneling inferno before me? How far to go … how deeply into the mountain did this road lead? Had I killed us with this avenue?
Certain death was behind us by torture and execution, and before us lay death by incineration … yet a sheer hope of freedom on the other end. If it was to be, it was up to me.
Into the flaming road I trod, with each step it seemed the fires grew hotter. I tried to double-time march, a type of jogging step Hoscoe taught me, and which I used in my physical training runs, while singing the cadences he liked.
Suddenly the walls exploded … showering us in purple sheets of fire and unbelievable heat … my breath … my lungs were scorched and my hair caught fire.
“Left … left … left-right-le’YEFT … left-your-right-your-LE’yeft …”
Another explosion of heat and fire … It was too much … so far to go …
“… left-your-right-your-le’YEFT …”
So much heat, yet I was so wet … my feet … my boots were soaked inside … were my feet boiling … the pain …
“Hear-the-five-forty-com-ing-ov-er-the-rise …”
A blurring roll of heat coming my way … I ducked my head and charged in … ‘Where am I?’
“We’re-going-to-slice-your-ass-make-Jer-ni-gans-die … AHG-yah … AHG-yah …”
What was I doing in Hades Fires? I couldn’t see, just opening my eyes a slit brought excruciating pain. It was a nightmare; I was in a horrible dream. If only I could wake up. Staggering in my steps I was hit by yet another blast of flame, but it didn’t hurt anymore … I was so hot, hot and wet, and sticky. I almost dropped something from my shoulder … what was I carrying? A … a man, a human. I could let him go and go get a drink, and wake up …
I stumbled and my foot found a ledge … and then my eyes opened and I saw a magnificent horse rise up from the furnace before me … a stallion with fire for his mane and tail … Dahnté … and he was on his hind legs, about to hit me. I turned hard to the right to avoid his razor sharp hooves … and almost ran into a giant wolf made of flame leaping right at me … on his neck I saw a medallion … I ducked and turned somewhat to the left … and instead of hitting me, the flame of the wolf enveloped me as his front legs spread wide apart and the shape became that of a flaming Saukeir that flew in a direction where the flaming tunnel seemed to open from the fire, if only for an instant.
I had to keep my footing, and I tried hard to move in the direction the Saukeir had flown in … but I couldn’t keep up. Was that a doorway I saw?
The walls exploded again and I became lost … we weren’t going to make it … the world began to spin in multiple directions … if I fell, I knew I would never get back up … Hoscoe … Hoscoe …
From out of the inferno a hooded figure emerged and pointed … where?
I saw into the hood and beheld a ghastly figure, was he death, come to lead me to the end?
Scared lips moved and I saw he was trying to speak, and then a gust of the torrent blew his hood away and I saw the features of a horridly scarred elf, Th’Khai … it had to be Th’Khai … here? I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he was pointing in earnest.
Was it a hundred feet or a hundred rods? I could see a doorway. My legs didn’t want to move and rebelled, my body wanted to quit and I couldn’t feel the floor beneath me. How did I get a stick inside my leg? Somehow I made one step, then another, and then another.
I thought I saw my momma dancing among the apple trees … I staggered in my steps and almost dropped Hoscoe …
So close, so far. “You mussst be ssstrongerrr … Wihlabahk is coming,” I could hear Y’nesia say. And then we were there, the door opened without my saying or doing a thing, and I could hear the roar of the Teshucarr. Staggering outside, the door closed of its own accord and I dropped us both to ground untouched by human or elf in centuries, maybe thousands of years.
He looked so bad, as I know I did … tearing open his burned clothing he was covered in hard baked blood and a multitude of burns. Three bolts had penetrated him, but they must have broken off when the horse fell on him. I saw another piece of shaft, lower down on the right, which was a couple of days older. If he could only hold on long enough for me to rest a little and heal him.
Panic rushed through me as I held his head, my own body burned horribly, and yelled at him as my lips cracked and bled, “Hoscoe … Hoscoe … we’re through, we’re free! We’re FREE!”
“On the other side of the river, there’s a huge waterfall. It’s beautiful, Hoscoe, look. It’s got to come from the Tio’Pashon Mountains. It must be all one hundred and seventy feet tall.” I was holding him so h
e could see. Like a child I was holding back the tears, remembering my momma, who I couldn’t help, and Tahnus, Kisparti and …
Pleading, I said “Hoscoe, you can’t leave me. I don’t know what to do … you’re like a father to me … you’ve got to …”
His left hand, burned and scarred, took me by the arm and he said so weakly, “I-I have trained you … in the best way … I know how. Never … never forget … your Honor … Integrity … and … your Promise. As long … as you remember … your teaching … I … shall always … be with you ……… for … I taught you all … all that I am. I … am proud of you!”
Hoscoe finally managed to turn his head to see the waterfalls, and he smiled. Then he looked at me, and after taking several ragged breaths and squeezing my arm said, “She’s waiting for me … can you see them … my grandbabies?”
The tears poured from my eyes and I said, “Yes, Hoscoe. I see them, go to them … go to your family.”
He squeezed my hand hard and I looked into his eyes and said “Kact’Ha’Shuintei, yuen poh Tahnna,” which is to say until later, Beloved Father.
Hoscoe smiled at me and said in a fading voice, “Kact’Ha’Juinjo … yuen … poh Tahnna,” which is to say until later, Beloved Son. I kept looking him in the eye, directly, as we always had. Then I realized he was gone, he had passed to meet his beloved wife, son, and grand babies. My own cries of torrential pain echoed through the Teshucarr River Canyon walls, and I didn’t care.
Chapter 52
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I FOUND A beautiful flat place about one hundred and twenty rods from the northern side of the tunnel entrance, and a dozen rods higher in elevation to place Hoscoe. The spot would overlook the river rapids and the falls on the other side. Now, I was sure what he meant by being able to lay him down. He was buried deep, and with him I placed his mug, the broken Mark VII, and his sword.
Now you might think burying such a wonderful blade a bad idea, but I had a plan. If the plan succeeded, I would return for it, for I believe he wanted me to have it. If my plan failed, I didn’t want it to go into the wrong hands. With great emotion I held that blade. Wearing it on my back had kept that one bolt from severing my spine when I surely thought I had been hit. And the mug … I would never forget ……
Hoscoe had done his job, and he did it well. He had found me, befriended me, trained and guided me. My debt to him was infinite. Now, before me was my first true choice of absolute free will. Looking down the Teshucarr Trail, I smelled in the aroma of freedom, and there is nothing like it. The roaring of the Teshucarr River called out to me. But first, I had a mission. I had a man to kill.
On Hoscoe’s person, trapped between he and I in the tunnel, were his ever-present trail rations. They weren’t plentiful, but they were enough. First, though, I found what was left of the arrow shaft in my leg. Breaking it off at the head, I tried to pull it out the way it came in, but it broke off inside. I had to push my finger into the hole and force the shaft out. If you think that might be fun to see, try it for yourself.
Exhausted and with no power to heal myself, I laid beside the body of my mentor and surrogate father all through the night, protecting him from scavenging creatures before finally falling asleep. My hands I had pushed into the soil amid a patch of sahrnoy vines and relished in the soothing sensation that rushed into my body; I fell asleep that way. It was nearly evening of the next day when I awakened, somewhat refreshed and healed myself physically; enough so that I could complete his burial in a proper fashion.
For two days I stayed there; finding a place where the water swirled I sat up to my neck and relished in the power of the water, losing myself in *Self Healing* meditation and recuperation, and consummation of sahrnoy tea; the sahrnoy root being a core component of druidic medicine and usually thought of as a weed by humans.
The morning of the third day I went on the hunt.
No longer was I a civilized being, held by trappings of elegance and sophistication. I was now as a beast of the wild. Finding some ripened berries I ate, and then drank of the many water sources I could find. With me I carried a hefty supply of the sahrnoy root; it was bitter on its own and best when brewed with honey and garlic, but that was the way it was. Even as a solitary component it magnified healing and endurance by several times.
With my stores of dried meat finally gone, my *Awareness* caught the sensation of my first quarry.
The encampment was settling in for the night and food was cooking. My stomach was thinking my throat had been choked off and it was wanting to growl, but chewing on a piece of sahrnoy root I tried to trick my body into believing it was getting something to eat.
I was lying in the brush, *Blending* with my surroundings when the first watch walked right by me without noticing. I sprung up from the brush and hooked him around the throat with my right forearm while catching his right arm behind his back in a tight hammerlock.
Holding him fast until I was sure he was dead, I carried him off to the side and stripped him of sword, daggers, crossbow and ammunition. There were only five sent up here to hunt a way across the ridge to find Hoscoe and me; bad choice.
Waiting for just the right moment, I stepped into the camp, shot the first one to look my way and dropping the weapon I threw a dagger into another, then using a quick-draw technique laid the long-blade across the torso of another and sliced with both hands and all my strength.
The fifth looked at me and my uncaring eyes.
Smiling at him cruelly I asked with a sneer, “Wanna go for it? I’m itchy.” The man dropped his blade and put his hands up as his friend with the impaled dagger kicked and squirmed.
Mr. Stand-up asked, “Wh-what about him. I kin go hep him.”
“Tough,” I said, “let him die. Where’s Davolet?”
“H-he’s down the mountain.”
“Call for him. Get him up here, now.”
The man was wide eyed and looked at me as if I were crazy. He fumbled in some gear and produced a horn. As he was putting it to his lips I said, “Remember, I know the codes better than you do.” Of course, Davolet may have changed a code or two, but the soldier in front of me wasn’t thinking of that. He blew the horn signaling capture. Then I walked up to him, and with something less than a congenial attitude, kicked him in the groin and as he bent over I beheaded him.
A horn sounded from below and I knew if it wasn’t answered they’d be coming up quickly. Getting two packhorses and a mount together, I loaded up with food, water and weapons. Then I picked some clothing and began eating their meal. It took them a while to ride up from below, during which time I arranged the soldiers such as I wanted, made a couple more preparations, then sat back to relax.
When they were almost there I took my position with a crossbow in each hand and waited with my back to the trail. Davolet was first to ride up to the fire and he demanded why I had signaled so late in the night. He had brought a full platoon, twenty-four men. He stepped down and repeated his question.
I turned and faced him with both of my weapons drawn, “Hello Davolet, what was that you said about my momma?” I was at point blank range and I put a bolt into each shoulder. Dropping the weapons I did a quick roll and threw a dagger into the rope I had looped around one tree, and a dagger into the rope around another tree. Branches whipped and all riders were knocked off of their horses, then I pulled two swords and went berserk.
Davolet was still alive when I finished the last of his men. I knew there were a few more down below, but it didn’t matter. They would come up soon enough when they heard Davolet’s screams into the night.
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So far every fight I had engaged in, every being I had killed, had been for the sake of self-defense or war. Now I was hunting down someone I intended to kill for revenge.
Sormiske had more than a couple days advantage, but in truth I expected to find him lying dead somewhere. What I had to remember was, good soldier or bad, he had been trained in the Dahruban
Army and had spent time in the field. He had to have picked up something, and he apparently did. The problem was, he didn’t seem to have any idea where he was going. Nor was he followed. There was much about the situation I didn’t understand, but it didn’t really matter to me.
With my two packhorses I rode careful. The cognobins were still in occupation, just not nearly as strong. With any kind of leadership out of Kiubejhan, they would eventually be run out of the territory or killed. I had run into no knowledge of cognobin females in the country, and I had yet to hear of two males producing offspring in any species.
I was sure Sormiske wouldn’t try to approach the Pehnaché River Bridge, but when we crossed the road between Kiubejhan and Biunang Village, I swear he didn’t even stop and look around. I was convinced the man was lost. He didn’t kill the horse this time, and I saw where he had killed some small game and eaten, so he had some basic survival skills. But for all of his perceived intelligence, he had no imagination. Hoscoe had often told me that lots of people had great powers of memorization, but if you can’t process that information you were often less useful than a book or a scroll.
At any time I could have quit, I could have turned back and started my own life. With my abilities it would have been easy to get completely out of the country. My friends were either dead, or I had let them down. I thought of going back for Riana, but how would she look at me? Finally, I decided when I had finished this, I would go back and at least kill that Aldivert, and if Riana wanted to come with me, we would go somewhere. Where, I didn’t know, but somewhere.
Sormiske’s existence, however, bothered me. He was responsible for so many deaths, it was time he was exterminated like the vermin his life so favored. Most importantly, he was responsible for the death of Hoscoe, and, I believed, for the deaths of Hoscoe’s family. If he were not directly responsible, he must have cowered as they were slain.