by I K Spencer
Anthen peered above the rock, locating Cidrl from his voice. Something drew his gaze to the left and he saw the Dolonarian archer just as an arrow was loosed at his head, giving him just enough time to dodge the projectile. He rolled and jumped up, ready to return fire, but the archer was gone.
"Where are your comrades though, Anthen? The Guard is not here when you need them most."
Anthen kept glancing toward the rocks where Cidrl was hiding but the traitor was too smart to give his former apprentice a target.
"Anthen. It is not too late; join us. The realm is lost Anthen. The Dolonarians will roll over Isaencarl like a dark wave."
He wondered how far the traitor would go as he continued his evasive movements and kept a keen eye out for a target. Unless Cidrl had already made a deal with Vlaednyk, he must have to watch what he promised.
"Anthen you can ride that wave by my side or be crushed by it. I just want you to know that you have a choice. You need not waste your life in this futile stand. History is written by the victors Anthen."
Anthen kept his vigil, certain that Cidrl's banter was meant to distract him. He also tried not to listen, finding that his former master's mesmerizing voice did have an affect on him, even though he knew the words were all lies.
"Anthen?"
Urvena's soft voice hit him like a blow to the stomach.
"Anthen, I just want you to know that I did not betray you and my feelings for you are real." Her voice was quavering, as though on the verge of tears. "Anthen I know you must hate me but I had no choice. Cidrl ..." She broke down, sobbing softly, and did not speak again.
Could there be any truth in her words? Was she yet innocent, another slave to the monster? Anthen's musings were interrupted by a glimpse of Cidrl's cloak. He took aim and waited for a better shot, then realized it was a decoy. He felt the movement on his left flank and whirled, firing the crossbow from his hip. He hit the surprised Dolonarian in the midsection, then realized his mistake an instant before feeling the searing pain in his right shoulder; a second archer had moved in from his right flank at the same time. He turned around and fired at the second archer to show he could still shoot.
He slumped against a rock, watching and waiting for the next attack but he could discern no movement. The pain was horrendous but at least the arrowhead had pushed all the way though, fortunate because it had to come out if he was to have any chance. He ducked down once again and quickly replaced the two loosed bolts on his crossbow. He was feeling very faint so he tugged on the arrowhead and the intense pain jerked him to attention. He painfully pulled himself up to scan the camp; finding all quiet.
Switching the bow to his right hand, he sat down again with his back to a boulder and reached across with his left to feel where the arrowhead had pierced through the front of his shoulder. It had pushed through clean, so he could get a good grip on the head. He saw it was bleeding but not as badly as he had expected.
The wounded guardsman listened for a moment again but still heard no sound. No doubt they were probably planning their next move. He gripped his dagger between his teeth and reached over his shoulder to where the arrow had entered. His shaking fingers found and closed on the tail of the shaft. He clamped down hard on the blade, then snapped the tail off with as much force as he could muster, not wanting to have to try again. He could not help but cry out as the terrible pain cursed through him. He fell over and fought to stay conscious as his vision began to dim.
He forced himself up; he had to see if they were coming. On wobbly legs he pushed up against the rock and looked around. They had surely heard his cry but it had apparently drawn no response. He slid slowly back to the ground and steeled himself for the next step with several deep breaths.
"I am so sorry it had to come to this Anthen," Cidrl called out in his kindest voice. The man actually did sound sincerely remorseful.
Ignoring him, Anthen took the knife between his teeth once again. It took all his will to force himself to go through with it after the intense agony caused by snapping off the tail. He gently locked two fingers around the arrowhead, his face ashen with pain and fear.
"Surrender now and we can take care of those wounds. You still have a place at my side Anthen."
Again the wounded guardsman bit down hard. He paused, then yanked at the arrowhead with all his might. He again cried out and nearly swooned, shaking his head to clear the vision. The shoulder throbbed but at least the arrow was out. He stumbled once again to his knees to make sure they were not advancing.
"The pain must be terrible son. Speak now. You are running out of chances my young friend."
Keep talking, Anthen thought to himself, as he pulled off his cloak and tunic while holding the right arm as steady as possible. It might buy him some time to get this wound taken care of. Though it felt cold enough to snow, his naked torso gleamed with perspiration from the pain and exertion. While keeping an eye on the camp, he doused the wounds with water and treated them against infection. He then wrapped a cloth over the wounds as tightly as he could manage with one hand. After another quick peek he pushed against the front of his shoulder and simultaneously pressed the back of his shoulder against the rock to help stop the heavy bleeding. The resulting agony was obvious in his pale face but he forced himself to keep applying the pressure, or he might easily bleed to death.
"Well Anthen. Since we are fellow guardsmen I will give you some time to think my proposition over. I have some matters to attend to. You have until midday and upon my word, you will not be disturbed."
His shoulder throbbing, Anthen forced his mind away from the intense pain, pondering this unexpected move. He did not think it a trick. His guess was that they could afford to wait and did not want to risk further losses, probably hoping that he might die or lose consciousness in the meantime. The day brightened as the sun rose above the mountains but with the return of a thick cloud cover, he did not catch a single glimpse of the sun. It felt colder to him but he knew that might be due to his loss of blood; the bleeding had slowed but not stopped entirely.
He stayed alert but felt weaker as the morning slowly passed. He noted some movement on occasion but never had a clear target. He wondered what had happened to Kyreial. The elf was now his best chance and he took some hope from the fact that the winged creature had apparently not returned so that meant Kyreial might yet be alive.
By late morning, the weakening guardsman's head began to nod. He shivered from the cold and as the time passed he grew more concerned that he was bleeding to death. Though it brought fierce pain, he regularly pressed on the wound with his left hand but the bleeding would not stop. He ate some jerked beef and drank some water, hoping to regain strength.
Over the next hour, as noon approached, Anthen's head fell forward several times, jerking up each time when his chin touched his chest. He tried to stand, hoping it would help him stay alert, but the resulting dizziness was so intense he couldn't bear it. Finally, near to Cidrl's deadline, the spent guardsman's head fell to his chest one last time and this time, the wounded young man did not stir.
********
Teya flew over the rise, leaning forward over the buff mare's neck and urging the filly to run faster. After a few moments on the flat, she glanced behind. The riders were just coming up over the rise and she smiled; the gap was lengthening. Even at the increased distance though, she could see their skull-like grimaces and quickly turned away.
The expert horsewoman reached the end of the flat, coaxing the mare to jump a fallen tree blocking the trail. She smiled again; that should keep the ghouls busy for some time. A short distance farther the trail crossed a section of exposed granite and she left the trail, hoping the expanse of bedrock would hide her tracks.
Once out of view of the trail, Teya halted and dismounted, leading the winded mare on foot. She followed the granite until it ended at a rockslide too steep for any horse to navigate. There she took to the woods, cutting across the mountainside. If she circled around the summit she should pi
ck up the trail again on the other side. She led the horse through a section of thick spruce, then emerged onto another granite ledge. To her right, there was a drop of perhaps five hundred feet. She scrambled over a series of ledges before reaching a clearing.
The Arnedonian warrior started to jog across the clearing, then froze at the sound of movement in the rocks behind her. Turning slowly, she spied a group of Hraedari spreading out along the rocks behind. She started to dash in the opposite direction, then halted; another group of the wraiths stepped from the trees. She leapt atop the mare and turned away from the cliffs, hoping to avoid the trap, but it was too late. More and more of the leering figures were fanning out and she had been completely encircled.
Rage filled her as she faced what her failure would mean for Anthen. With a roar she kicked the mare into motion and took up her bow, quickly assessing that her only hope was to break through where a trail ended at the clearing. If she could break through there, she knew she could outrun the demons again.
The marksman drove the mare with her legs and shot at the cluster of mounted Hraedari blocking the trail ahead. She shot three ghost riders straight through the head but was driven back by the rest. She raced back to the center of the clearing to have room to shoot and kept the horse running from side to side as the arrows rained down all around her. She shot arrow after arrow, each finding its mark, toward the cluster of ghostly riders blocking her escape but more riders came up to take their place.
The first arrow pierced her right thigh, going right through and pinning her to the screaming mare. Teya cried out in pain but kept firing and moving until her quiver was empty. She readied her sword and charged the only exit once again. The next strike hit her lower back; the force knocked her forward and she nearly dropped her weapon. Strangely it did not hurt as much as the first. The game mare took two arrows in the side but did not falter. The next arrow caught the Arnedonian square between the shoulder blades and her blade slipped from her failing grasp.
"No!" Teya shrieked in rage but then quickly realized the hopelessness of the situation.
The beaten warrior had one thing left to do. If she fell to the demons she would become one of the horrid creatures, and that, she could not let happen. With all her remaining strength, the incredible woman pulled the racing mare to a halt and expertly maneuvered the horse to a full gallop again in the opposite direction, toward the cliffs.
Teya dropped the reins and, with tears streaming down her cheeks, urged the mortally wounded mare to run, stroking the loyal horse's neck. The Hraedari saw her intention and launched a salvo meant to take the mount down before it reached the edge. Countless arrows hit them both but Teya no longer felt any pain and the devoted mare did not falter.
"I am sorry Anthen," she sobbed and hugged the brave horse's neck as it executed one final jump.
********
Anthen jerked awake with a start, arms flailing and eyes wide with panic. It took a few moments for him to realize where he was after the horrible vision. Having no idea for how long he had been unconscious, he pulled himself up on one of the rocks to make sure they weren't closing on him. He saw nothing and slid back to the ground.
"Oh Teya, not you too," he sobbed. As with his vision of Garrick's death, he had little doubt that somehow, he had just witnessed his comrade's death. "Do not be sorry, Teya of Arnedon, you did more than any could ask and died with honor."
His dire situation momentarily forgotten, the wounded guardsman wept for his lost lover.
"Why?" he demanded of the clouds overhead, tears streaking his bloodstained face and his voice a hoarse whisper. "What have I done to deserve such torment?"
Of course no answer came; he hadn't really expected one. He lowered his eyes and tried to force the vision from his mind; it was not the time to mourn. It was time to fight and, more than likely, the time to die.
Looking again at the sky, he gauged that he must not have been out for too long but it mattered little. He’d run out of time. He could not risk falling asleep and being taken without a fight. He was alone and there would be no help to hold out for. He must make a move now, taking the offensive before he became too weak. He felt the sting of tears as he checked his weapon and supply of arrows and he angrily wiped them away from his cheeks. Tears of mourning were tolerable but he knew that he also wept over his defeat and that was not acceptable.
Anthen struggled to his feet and leaned heavily on the rocks for support. The expected wave of dizziness came but he refused to give in, swaying on his feet until finally his vision cleared somewhat. His clothing felt wet and heavy, soaked with his own blood. He surveyed the silent camp, trying to figure out where Cidrl would likely be stationed. He strained to hear voices but could hear none. He was about to just make his way through the center of the camp when movement to his right caught his attention and he caught a glimpse of a man on the very hill from which he and Kyreial had first surveyed the camp. They must have moved over the hill and out of earshot, though no doubt there would still be some men posted in the camp to watch him. He did not have the strength to run far and the sentries seemed lax so the guardsman decided to try to crawl from the boulders without being noticed.
He dropped heavily to his knees and started away from the rocks, putting as little weight as possible on his wounded right shoulder. He felt a rise in his spirits. He knew he was finished but maybe he could sneak close enough for a shot at Cidrl.
He felt the presence as soon as he cleared the rocks, then a moment later the shadow loomed over him. He knew the familiar silhouette and what its appearance meant—he was alone. Garrick and Teya were lost and now even the formidable elf had fallen. Bellowing with rage, he leapt to his feet and raised his bow. The unearthly red eyes taunted him and he loosed all four bolts at them in quick succession. The first nearly found its mark but the other three were blocked by a wing.
Mindless for his own safety, the enraged guardsman rushed the winged demon, slashing at it with all his might. The thing shrieked, more in surprise than pain, then knocked him away. Anthen fell hard against the rocks and in his weakened state, the blow was enough to finish him. He struggled against the dizziness but the shadows closed in. He could hear the traitor’s mocking laughter coming from somewhere nearby, then he lost consciousness.
Chapter 44
Anthen awoke in complete darkness. His first sensation came from the pain in his shoulder and head. He instinctively tried to move but found that he could only turn his head. It took a few moments before his eyes would focus, then he saw that he was bound with his back to a large tree trunk. His wrists were tied securely together around the tree and extra lines were lashed across his chest and waist. His legs were stretched taut as well, tethered to pegs driven into the ground. Cidrl was obviously taking no chances, knowing his former apprentice would be well trained in the techniques of escape.
With consciousness came the memory of his fallen comrades and he fought to control the resulting despair that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt the sting of fresh tears and silently willed himself not to think about his grief for the present. Instead, the thoughts that he would join them soon enough and still might avenge their deaths provided some consolation.
He noticed that his wounds had been rebandaged properly, checking the fatal blood loss. That momentarily puzzled him, then with realization came a moment of panic; the only explanation that occurred to him was that Cidrl meant to take possession of him once again. The thought terrified him beyond reason and he quickly forced it from his mind, since above all he needed to keep his head.
Many watchfires had been lit to keep the draugen at bay and Anthen was thankful for a fire a few feet from him; his damp, blood-soaked clothing offered little protection against the dropping temperature. He kept his head down as his eyes slowly surveyed the camp, though no one appeared to be watching him.
In a few minutes a figure approached and Anthen was surprised to see it was Urvena. She carried food and water and knelt beside him without spea
king; his waking mustn't have gone unnoticed after all. She wore a heavy gown and cloak against the cold night but, though garbed in plain clothing, her beauty was not diminished.
He stared at her as she fed him from the bowl of greasy stew. She avoided his eyes, watching the spoon, and fed him quickly. As she leaned closer he caught her scent and it stirred bittersweet memories for the guardsman. His stare did not falter as he waited for her to speak but she said nothing.
"Why?" he finally asked.
Urvena ignored the query, steadily feeding him.
"Urvena at least tell me why you betrayed me!"
Her eyes flashed with anger as she finally met his gaze.
"You are a fool!" she spat, surprising him with her vehemence. "Cidrl will become ruler of all and I will be at his side. Where do you think you will be?" She glared at him triumphantly.
He started to speak but she cut him off, evidently assuming, incorrectly, that he would ask about their love. "Love," she said, then laughed mirthlessly. "Love to a man is whore and housekeeper. A woman will love whoever will give her what she needs. A beggar loves for food, a farmer for more land. A noblewoman will choose the suitor that offers the most gain." She paused, waiting for him to argue but he did not. "I will be Queen!"
Anthen's question had been answered brutally but the pain was dulled by time and more important events. He did not wish to know more but from the emotion in her voice, maybe she could be manipulated to aid him.
"Is this from your heart or are you the traitor's pawn as I was?"
"I am under no spell!" she shot back angrily. "Cidrl is a great man and will be a great ruler."
"He will not succeed," he said with vastly more confidence than he felt.
She laughed in his face. "You are indeed a fool. Look at you. Victory is ours!"
He forced a smile. "So they would have you think. You saw the elf; there are powerful forces aligned against you."