Derek realized with a jolt, that he had seen at least two of these people before. The warrior on the left and the magic-user in the middle had been at Fort Mul-Dune, he was sure of it.
“What is this?” A voice called out from behind Derek. It took a moment for his to realize that it was Orval's voice. Derek glanced over his shoulder, not surprised in the least to see that Orval already had his sword drawn. But something else did surprise him. Even farther behind Orval, another ten or so men had emerged from the woods on either side of the road, and they were hurrying to block the road.
“Look out, behind you!” Derek called out. For a second, he thought that Orval would not look back, seeing how he so miss-trusted the guardians, but he finally did glance over his shoulder. The sight of the men running to the road was enough to make Orval swing his horse around.
Confusion reigned amongst Derek and his companions. Orval and Trestus had both swung their horses from one set of warriors to the other and then back again, seeming confused about what to do. Kara sat her horse staring at the warriors and riders on the road in front of them. She also seemed confused, or perhaps scared? It was hard to tell, but either way was understandable. Enstorion and Garrick both sat with their horses facing the way they had been traveling, while both men looked forwards and backwards. It struck Derek amusing, that of the guardians, Enstorion seemed to be the calmest during the ambush. And ambush it had to be, but how could the enemy have found them in Delamar? And why were the three riders, who had been at Mul-Dune, here?
Shaking his head to clear it, Derek pulled the reigns of his horse turning it back around the way they had come. With twenty or so warriors in front of them, and only around ten behind them, going back the way they had come was the obvious choice. “Quickly! Go back! Go back!” Derek shouted at the riders behind him.
Orval and Trestus both swung their horses to face back down the road, they both had drawn their swords. Their confusion was gone and both appeared to be ready. Enstorion calmly turned his horse, and pulled the pack horse around with him. Garrick still seemed to be the calmest of them all. Still smiling, but strangely he had not drawn his sword.
Kara, though still sat facing forward, watching the three riders. Spurring his horse directly at her, Derek managed to get her moving, as she jerked her horse to her right to avoid a collision. “Get moving!” Derek called, as he moved past her, not waiting to see if she did or not. There simply wasn't time. This ambush was planned and they had to expect the guardians to make a run for freedom.
Trestus moved his horse nearer to Orval's and glanced over his shoulder. Derek and Enstorion both were moving quickly up behind them, but Kara had just now got her horse turned and was lagging behind. Then he caught sight of Garrick, and his forehead wrinkled in confusion. What was the man doing? He sat his horse watching both the guardians and the attackers. Just watching, like a spectator watching a street play. He pushed the curiosity away, it was Garrick's call. Let him stay behind if he wanted to. Still, he hadn't expected one of the two swordsmen to freeze in the middle of a fight.
Pausing another moment to allow the others to get closer, then he turned back around facing the smaller group of attackers. Tensing, and sensing that Orval also was ready, he kicked his horse forward.
Trestus and Orval's horses both managed two steps before it happened. Both horses stumbled at exactly the same moment, stumbled and then went down sending their riders sprawling. Trestus hit the ground on his left side, the initial blow knocking the wind from him, but by far the worst part was the side of his head hitting the hard packed dirt road. His head bounced, and spots of color blossomed before his eyes. His head spinning, he fought to remain conscious.
Derek pulled his horse up as soon as he saw Trestus go down, scanning the ground; it only took a moment to see what had caused the collapse. An arrow stuck out of the left side of the neck of Trestus' horse. Time seemed to stand still as he stared at the arrow protruding from the dying horse. This ambush had been well planned, indeed. Knowing that the riders would charge back the way they had came, the attackers had placed bow-men in the trees on the sides of the road. Knowing that it was futile, he kicked his horse forward. If he could escape, then perhaps he could trail these people and free his friends.
Derek's horse didn't even make it two steps. At the first step, Derek felt two arrows slam into his horse, one of them brushing his right leg, he didn't even notice the pain of the arrow. His horse pitched after the first step, and then he too went down, sending Derek flying over the horses' head.
He flew through the air, his balance was all wrong and he knew he was going to land somewhat head down. He threw his arms out in front of him, hoping to break the fall; actually he was hoping that he wouldn't spill his brains all across the road. The sight of the ground rushing up at him was frightening, and he tried to twist his body so as not to land on his face.
He came down somewhat turned to the left, and his left arm hit the ground first. There was a loud CRACK, followed closely by a searing pain through his arm, and then his body hit the ground. The left side of his head bounced twice off of the hard packed dirt, and then his whole body went limp as unconsciousness rushed over him.
Enstorion saw the arrows hit both Trestus' and Derek's horses, and knowing that the horse couldn't possibly outrun the arrows and not wanting to take a spill like they had, he pulled his horse to a stop. An arrow flashed just in front of his horse, it almost definitely would have struck the horse if he hadn't stopped.
Remaining calm, his hand flew to a small bag that was tied to his belt. It was filled with a powder that he had used in spells only twice before. Both times it had made a powerful explosion.
“Stop!” A man's voice called out from behind him. Turning, he scanned the actions behind him. The attackers were quickly moving forward, but their swords were gone, and they carried cudgels. Obviously, they wanted to capture the guardians alive. The three riders had moved forward, and it was the blond one on the right that had spoken. The presence of those three would not have stopped him from his spell, but the sight of Kara did. She was still astride her horse with her hands hanging limply by her side. She sat ram-rod straight, with her neck stretched upwards to avoid the knife that rested along her throat.
Surprised, Enstorion took in the scene; he wasn't surprised to see Kara in trouble. She most certainly had not been alert lately, and she hadn't reacted quickly to the ambush. What surprised him was who held the knife, it was Garrick.
Garrick held Kara by the hair with his left hand, and rested the knife along her throat with his right. He wore an evil grin, and looked nothing like the man that had bored them to tears for the past week. Now, he looked like the deadly swordsman that Derek had believed him to be.
Slowly, Enstorion withdrew his empty hand from the bag at his waist. He wasn't sure that it was the right thing to do, perhaps it would be better for them all to die quickly than to be captured alive, but there was still hope as long as they lived. Something collided with the back of his head, and a blinding pain burst forth behind his eyes. He slid off of his horse, landing hard on his right side.
Groggy, Enstorion opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he would be unconscious soon. One of the warriors carrying a cudgel stepped over him, and hazily he realized he had been hit over the head from behind.
The riders, the three that had been at Mul-Dune were still hurrying forward. The blond one on the right quickly rode up beside Garrick and pulled his right arm away from Kara. “I said stop. Did you not hear me?” He demanded, looking at Garrick. He had a deep commanding voice, one that wasn't used to be questioned.
Enstorion momentarily thought he was going unconscious, but he blinked his eyes and his vision cleared, somewhat.
Garrick looked puzzled, “I thought that you wanted them caught.” He said hesitantly.
“Yes.” The woman magic-user said as she moved up on Kara's left. “We do, but we want them alive.” Her voice
was clear and cold, each word rang out as she spoke. With her right hand, she flung a powder into the Kara's face.
Choking and sputtering, Kara tried to spit the powder out of her mouth. She struggled for just a moment, before slumping backward in the saddle. The only thing that kept her from falling off of her horse was the left arm of Garrick, who still held her by the hair.
A moment or two later, Enstorion joined her in unconsciousness.
Chapter 21
Flare re-entered their camp from the north, having just made friends with a leafy bush. This was the end of the fourth day of traveling, since Lord Vinekh had asked Arnok to take them to find this Morley. In those four days, Arnok had kept to himself, only speaking when spoken to, and then only saying what was absolutely necessary. Both Philip and Atock had expressed their concerns about the dwarf to Flare, but he had chosen to ignore them so far. There was a good reason behind it. If this Morley knew the area around the Black Forest, then he could be invaluable to them.
Sitting down near the fire, he held his hands to warm them. The weather was cold here, but it still hadn't snowed. The worse had been the morning two days ago, when they had woken up to frost covering the ground. It made for unpleasant sleeping, but they seemed to be getting used to it.
It was Philip's turn to cook, and he handed a plate to Flare. It wasn't much of a dinner, but Atock had managed to catch several trout in a small stream, so they had fresh fish and some bread. “Thanks,” Flare said, taking the offered plate.
“Sure.” Philip said, stretching his lower back. “I'm going to step to the forest for a few minutes to relieve myself.” Then grinning, he added, “Do you want me to bring you anything back?”
Flare grinned in spite of himself, “No, but thanks for asking.” He looked around, seeing Arnok, but not Atock. “Where did Atock go?”
Philip paused, “He went to scout around the camp. He's just checking the area.” Flare nodded, and Philip left through the bushes.
Tearing the hot fish apart, the smell of it was wonderful, he took a bite of the bread. He looked up and caught Arnok staring at him. “Something on your mind?” Flare asked, his mouth full of bread. He didn't actually expect an answer, after all the dwarf had hardly spoken more than was required during the last four days.
“Yes.” The dwarf replied stoically. “I find it hard to imagine that a half-elf is traveling to Golt and it's not related to Kelcer.” He didn't exactly pose a question, but he implied one. His eyes were locked on Flare as if he was trying to dissect the half-elf.
“What is it that you want to know?” Flare asked, not sure how he should answer. He didn't want to lie to the dwarf; that was a horrible way to repay him, especially after all of his help. But then again he couldn't very well tell him the truth.
“Are you the one?”
Arnok spoke so softly that Flare almost couldn't hear him. The dwarf's voice was quiet and what? Was that fear in his voice? Probably it was, and Flare didn't blame him one bit. Kelcer had described the coming destroyer vividly, and only a fool would be able to sit next to the destroyer without feeling fear. 'I can't be the one,' Flare thought. 'I'm not a murderer!' Thoughts came unbidden to his mind. The young soldier whose throat he had cut in front of a room full of soldiers, and why? He had killed because the boy had challenged him, the knowledge that it might have saved Telur only eased the pain slightly.
Callin and Murleen's faces popped into his mind as well. He hadn't killed them himself, but he was responsible nevertheless for their deaths. As always, the thought of Murleen felt like a dagger plunged into his heart, and he tried and succeeded to a small degree, to force the sadness away.
Other faces came to mind. Colonel Holt and the others that had died at Mul-Dune. So much death and it all could be laid at his feet. Was that what Kelcer had meant?
'You did not kill them. They died serving their King.' That ghostly voice said.
Flare had not heard that voice in a long time, and if the truth be told he wished he wasn't hearing it now. He glanced over at Arnok to make sure that he hadn't heard it, and the dwarf gave no sign that he had heard anything. Choosing to ignore the voice as well, he shifted in his seat to face the dwarf better. “I know that I fit many of the descriptions that Kelcer gave about the coming evil one. But know this; I am not the one that he spoke of.” Flare felt like it was only partially a lie, as there simply was no way that he could be the evil one who was supposed to take all of those thousands of lives. There was no way that he could be that person.
“Are you sure?” The dwarf asked.
Flare's face shot up to meet the dwarf's gaze. “What do you mean?”
Arnok shrugged, “You seem less than sure yourself.”
He sighed and set down his forgotten plate of bread and fish. “Arnok, have you ever killed anyone?” The dwarf seemed slightly surprised, but nodded. Flare nodded his head too, “So have I. Some lives I have taken with my own hands, while others were soldiers who died while serving under my command. Either way, I am in part responsible for their deaths. Meaning, that I could be called a murderer.”
Arnok shook his head, “Those deaths are a part of life. Kelcer was speaking of something much darker. The killer that he spoke of is supposed to enjoy and relish it.”
“Well, then you can rest assured that I most certainly am not Kelcer's killer.” Flare rubbed the side of his face, “There's not a night that goes by, where I don't think about the commands I gave. Wondering if there was something I could have done differently, something where so many wouldn't have died.”
Silence hung in the air for several moments, before the dwarf spoke. “I believe you.” More seemed to be said than just the words. A genuine sense of belief was there, something that had apparently been lacking for the past four days.
“Thank you,” Flare said. Feeling multiple emotions wash over him at the dwarf's words. Relief, gratitude, and perhaps a bit of guilt all took their turns.
The dwarf stood up and moved to put his plate up. “Now, don't go getting all misty eyed on me. Doesn't mean that I'm sharing your blankets tonight.”
Flare laughed, it was the first joke the dwarf had made since they had met him at the inn.
The next day was overcast, and Flare would have sworn that it was going to snow. He hadn't completely adjusted to the warmer southern weather, and at this time in Telur, it had to be snowing. As it was, the overcast weather simply made it cooler, but not unbearable. They each just pulled their cloaks tighter around them and rode on. The weather did affect their camaraderie, though, as they were each much less talkative than normal. Which was a shame, as the dwarf had just started being friendly.
They rode through the day, each absorbed in their own thoughts, and Flare fought to keep alert. It wasn't easy, though. Between the cool weather and the boring scenery, a nap began to sound wonderful to him.
The lands they were passing through were monotonous. At first, the lands around Helum had been grasslands, quite a few farmers had taken advantage of those flatlands and for the first couple of days they had passed farm after farm. But around the start of the third day, the farms had started disappearing fast. The land was becoming hillier, and copses of trees were now scattered along the roadside. The road itself changed from a well maintained road to little more than a dusty, partially overgrown trail. This morning, the trees were growing much closer to the road, and the surrounding countryside was definitely becoming wilder.
They stopped for a brief cold meal around mid-day, but by then the weather had taken a toll on their moods. Cold and miserable, Flare was sitting against a small tree and thinking longingly of digging out a blanket, when Arnok walked over and squatted down. “If we pick up the pace a little, we should be able to reach Morley's by sundown.” He shrugged, “Or, perhaps just a little after.”
Wincing at the idea of getting back on the horse so soon, Flare looked up at the sky. “You think the weather might slow us down? It kind of feels like rain to me.”
“Nah.” The dw
arf said in his usual gruff voice. “I don't think so. Maybe to the west, but that shouldn't affect us.”
Silently hating the dwarf, Flare climbed back to his feet, stretching to loosen the soreness in his muscles. “Okay!” He called out, clapping his hands. “Let's get going.”
“What's the rush?” Philip grumbled, as he too started to stand.
“Arnok thinks we can reach Morley's by sundown, or a little after.”
“If we don't get there till after dark, then how are we going to get our camp set up?” Atock asked, pulling his cloak together as he stood. He too was in a foul mood.
As the three guardians turned to face the short dwarf, a smile broke out across his face. “Well, I don't know about you,” he said with a cheeriness no one else felt, “But I would much prefer to sleep indoors tonight.”
“What?” Flare exclaimed, hearing the other two echo his question. “Does this Morley have room for all of us?”
Arnok nodded, “There's room for all of us. Now, it's not a palace, but it will be warm and dry. Oh, and Morley is an excellent cook. I'm sure that he won't mind fixing us something, even if we get there after dark.”
Smiling and feeling his spirits lift, Flare turned to the other two guardians, “Come on! Let's get moving.”
They too moved with a new spring in their step, as they rushed to pack up and get mounted.
Flare's mood was only slightly dampened by the drizzling rain that started to fall as they mounted their horses. As always, getting on the horse was a struggle for the dwarf, but he managed it somehow. Glancing up into the drizzling rain, he turned to Arnok, “I thought that you said it probably wouldn't rain.”
Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series Page 36