Just short of a complete circuit, HawkShadow stopped and grinned. Two of the inner watchers were talking to each other. Fools. That meant that no one was watching one of the guards and they wouldn’t hear anything either. The Sakovan assassin backtracked to a small gully and dropped into it. Slowly he slithered forward until he knew that if he went any farther he would be exposed to the guard. He listened intently for sounds from the campsite and could hear none. Frowning, he rose to the lip of the gully and peered out. The guard was still in place and the two watchers were still talking, but so quietly that HawkShadow could not hear them.
With practiced ease, HawkShadow snared a throwing knife from his belt and balanced it in his hand. He needed the guard facing him for this to work quietly and he reached for a small twig with his other hand. The twig was dry and large enough to make noise, but also small so the sound would be faint. His arm poised to throw, HawkShadow snapped the twig between his fingers and threw the knife a split second later. As he had expected, the guard turned towards the sound, and received the knife in the center of his throat. HawkShadow watched as the man opened his mouth and reached for his throat with both hands. The guard’s knees buckled slowly and the man sank gently to the ground, still trying to sound an alert that would never come out of his mouth.
HawkShadow glanced into the camp and saw the two watchers still talking. He dropped back into the gully and reversed course. Once he was outside the extent of the other guards’ vision, HawkShadow rose and ran back to his own campsite. He smiled at SkyDancer and mouthed the number fourteen as he slid onto his blanket and fell asleep.
StormSong woke everyone up just before dawn and the Sakovans had a small meal before cleaning up the campsite. There was no banter or small talk as one might expect. The Sakovans prepared quietly for the tasks they had been assigned. Goral was the first to leave the camp with HawkShadow catching up to him quickly. StarWind, StormSong and SkyDancer would take a circuitous route to avoid any possibility of running into the assassins while HawkShadow and Goral would be riding parallel to the enemy, but always out of sight until it was time for Goral to show himself.
HawkShadow left Goral briefly to spy on the assassin camp and see how nervous they were. HawkShadow knew the wilderness of the Sakova better than anyone did because he was always patrolling it between assignments. He rarely spent time in the stronghold, feeling the confinement of the enclosed valley too stifling. It was not difficult for him to spy on the enemy without being seen and HawkShadow was pleased that he had made the detour this morning. The campsite was in chaos with the leader yelling and threatening the men responsible for keeping watch on the guard who had died. The other assassins appeared to be breaking camp calmly, but HawkShadow saw many of them casting glances into the surrounding trees. They were concerned for their lives and that is what he wanted. Swiftly, he left his concealed spot and caught up to Goral.
“I heard you stirred up the nest last night,” Goral said when HawkShadow had caught up to him. “Are they buzzing around angrily?”
“Well,” HawkShadow chuckled, “they do seem to be looking outward for any sign of a bear in search of honey.”
“A job well done then,” Goral commented mirthlessly as they approached a small ridge. “This is the first spot I believe. Where will you be?”
“I will be across their track on the other side,” HawkShadow stated. “If they do decide to test you, I want a chance to reduce their numbers from the rear. I also want to observe their reaction and not from the same place you are. I will rejoin you after they pass.”
Goral did not answer and HawkShadow rode over the ridge and down the other side. He carefully led his choka over the tracks he had made yesterday, making certain not to disturb them. One nice thing about using the choka, he thought, was that the tracks were unfamiliar to the Omungans and they would not realize what they were. He found the spot he planned to hide in and waited for the enemy to approach.
Although the assassins were very quiet, especially for Omungans, HawkShadow heard them before he saw them. It is hard to keep so many men and horses absolutely quiet. HawkShadow watched them appear through the trees, still riding in the same formation as the day before. He glanced across their path and saw Goral appear, sitting proudly on his choka. The first few sets of men did not see Goral, their focus on the forest ahead of them, but soon HawkShadow heard a shout of alarm and the column faltered.
HawkShadow smiled as the second half of the column bunched together as men in the middle stopped and those behind them get riding while looking off to their right at Goral. Eventually the front of the column stopped, alerted by the shouts from the rear. Goral looked imposing upon the ridge, the combined height of the giant and the choka looking monstrously huge. Goral had even improvised and was holding the wicked looking maul that he favored in his right hand, a maul which most men would have trouble lifting with two hands. As arranged, Goral gave the assassins a moment to gape at him and then he disappeared over the ridgeline confidently, without looking back.
HawkShadow watched the enemy column as conversations broke out among the men. Nobody was inclined to ride up the ridge after Goral and the leader ended up shouting to get the men back into a column. These men, while well-trained assassins, were not used to working with others and it showed. Many resented the leader’s attempts at order and HawkShadow detected more than one of them snarling in the leader’s direction, when the leader wasn’t looking of course.
The column was soon moving again and HawkShadow waited until the last men were well out of sight before riding on to join Goral. HawkShadow watched with amusement as Goral threw on a black robe and donned a black knit cap. HawkShadow thought he looked like a giant version of Death ready to harvest someone.
“Tell me why you have a black robe with you, Goral,” HawkShadow chuckled.
“StarWind often requires me to disguise myself when I accompany her into Omunga,” Goral explained. “I brought my disguises in case our chase ended up in the enemy’s territory. It does not take up much room.”
HawkShadow shook his head and smiled, trying to imagine disguising Goral as anybody but the giant himself. HawkShadow was sure that Goral was the largest human to ever walk the surface of the world.
An hour later, they arrived at the second spot and HawkShadow left Goral to take up position across the track. Goral improvised again and was holding a large two-handed sword in his left hand. Even the front of the column saw Goral and the leader tried to maintain calm this time, but the assassins were clearly unnerved. Arguments ensued at the back of the column after Goral left and HawkShadow feared that some of the enemy might desert. That was something he had not planned for and he started thinking about it as the column finally moved off again.
HawkShadow wondered what the leader of the assassins was thinking while he rode back to join Goral. Would the leader anticipate defections? How would he handle them? Would HawkShadow have to track the individual deserters? Would he have time to?
HawkShadow got some of the answers to his questions after Goral’s third showing. One of the assassins at the rear spoke too loudly about leaving the group. The leader rode to the rear and swiftly decapitated the man, leaving his body where it fell. HawkShadow noticed that the other assassins cowered upon eye contact with the leader, and he guessed that he had just seen the last of the desertions.
Goral made six appearances in all and the enemy was clearly frazzled. The column was tighter than before and nobody watched the left flank at all. With any sound from the forest, all of them glanced right, looking for one of the Gorals. HawkShadow was pleased. The three Sakovan women greeted HawkShadow and Goral as they arrived at the ambush area.
“They are down to thirteen,” HawkShadow announced as StarWind led them on a tour of the trap areas. “They are as spooked as they are going to get. Expect them to flee rather than fight except for the leader and maybe the three close to him. Those four may go for Goral. The other will try to scatter.”
“They won
’t get far,” StarWind assured him. “Six Sakovan Stars each, ready for rapid delivery should handle it.”
“Well we should get ready then,” HawkShadow stated. “Goral are you comfortable with this plan?”
Goral merely nodded and headed for his position and the rest of the Sakovans disappeared into the forest in every direction. Within an hour the assassins appeared through the trees. HawkShadow noticed that the majority of them still glanced to their right frequently as they rode. As soon as the end of the column was visible, Goral appeared on the hill in front of them. Goral looked to the left and signaled some unseen forces and the looked right and signaled. The leader came to an abrupt halt, but those behind him were still glancing right and had not seen the new Goral in front of them. As HawkShadow had predicted, the column proceeded to look like a drip of milk ending in a puddle as the rear end continued moving forward until they could move no farther.
The assassin leader started shouting orders and the Sakovans charged inward on their chokas, Sakovan Stars in hand. The first Stars were already in the air when one of the assassins shouted an alarm. The leader quickly understood what was happening and, calling for his men to follow, charged towards Goral, the only Sakovan who had not moved towards the assassins. Only two men followed their leader, the rest were trying to control their now frenzied horses. The leader's eyes burned with hatred as he charged Goral, but the giant sat calmly on his choka. When the leader got close enough, Goral tossed a Sakovan Star, which implanted itself in the man’s forehead. Goral swiftly tossed Stars at the other two riders and three empty frightened horses ran past him.
In a matter of seconds, it was all over. The traps had not been used and the assassins had never been able to respond to the threat before they died. The Sakovans dismounted and checked the bodies for anything useful.
“I have a note here,” called SkyDancer, “and it doesn’t look good. There are more of these guys. It appears that there are five groups looking for the youngsters, but the note doesn’t give any numbers as to how large the groups are. Two of them were assigned to follow the youngsters whichever way they went, including the Sakova. Two more are assigned to start in Alamar and work inland from that end. It does not say what the fifth group is supposed to do. I assume that the fifth group is probably under the leadership of the writer, a man who signs his name as Klaarg.”
“If it was two groups who came into the Sakova from the west, then I would estimate about twenty men per group,” stated HawkShadow. “That means that there will be another forty assassins infiltrating from Alamar and twenty that we don’t know the mission for. Who are these youngsters and why are they so important? I am beginning to get a little curious myself.”
“Somebody wants them an awful lot to send a hundred professional assassins after them,” mused StarWind. “I should have had some inkling of something this big from one of my sources. The Omungans have not sent a hundred men into the Sakova at one time in centuries. I think it is very important that we find these youngsters and get them to tell us what is going on.”
“We will have to ride on then,” HawkShadow declared. “MistyTrail should be several hours ahead of us. We should send that note back to the stronghold as well.”
The group mounted and headed east. HawkShadow looked for the signs left by MistyTrail and collected them as he went. The signs were small and unrecognizable by anyone but a Sakovan, but they were personalized and HawkShadow could not only tell whose marker it was, but when it was left. A scout could even leave a message on one if necessary. To the casual observer, the marker looked like moss, but Sakovans knew their forest mosses well and the markers stuck out easily.
“This marker is fresh,” HawkShadow announced. “We should meet up with her soon.”
“Fresh?” asked StarWind. “Why would the youngsters be moving at night?”
“I don’t know,” admitted HawkShadow. “I was wondering the same thing. They should be bedded down long ago.”
Further questions on the matter were unnecessary as the group found MistyTrail moments later.
“Why are you tracking at night?” HawkShadow asked immediately.
“Tayo to you too,” sighed MistyTrail. “I fear that I spooked them. They took off at a gallop yesterday afternoon. I was not able to keep up on foot. I figured that they would slow down eventually, but it appears that they are determined to run their horses into the grave. I am sorry, HawkShadow. I know that I have failed you.”
HawkShadow looked at MistyTrail and shook his head. He knew her well enough to know that she had not slept since the youngsters took off. She must have tracked right through last night and into this one. “We make camp here for the night,” he announced. “Let’s get some food in you MistyTrail and you can tell us what happened.”
MistyTrail told the entire story to the other Sakovans over dinner. She was miserable with herself. She had delayed killing the youngsters with assurances to HawkShadow that she would not let them escape and he had trusted her. She not only failed to keep them in the Sakova, she spooked them into running.
“You intuition may have saved me from making a terrible mistake,” soothed HawkShadow. “RavenWing wants them alive. He wants us to bring them back to the stronghold. Were it not for you, I would have already killed them. Get some sleep now. I did promise you until the fourth morning and that has not come yet,” he smiled.
MistyTrail hugged him and fell asleep in his arms. HawkShadow carried her to a blanket, wondering whether there was time enough to catch them tomorrow before the youngsters left the Sakova.
Chapter 12
Wound of Kaltara
The three youngsters stood at the western rim of a gigantic canyon, a severing of the earth’s surface in immense proportions. The far rim was well over a league away from the trio and the canyon continued to the left and right as far as their eyes could see. Syman picked up a rock and threw it through the air. He watched it fall until it was no longer visible and still he waited for the sound of it to hit the bottom. The sound was never heard. Shaking his head sadly, he stared at the miniscule river winding its way through the huge canyon far below. The floor of the canyon was rugged with pinnacles reaching up to touch the sky and jagged cliffs all along both rims. Everywhere he looked, the descent was vertical and Syman could not find a hint of a trail anywhere, not even on the canyon floor.
“The Wound of Kaltara,” Syman spat. “The mighty Kaltara River looks like a tiny stream from up here. The canyon must be half a league deep. We will never find a way across it.”
“The horses need a rest anyway,” cheered Antello. “Why don’t we camp here and look for a trail down in the morning?”
“We can not stop until we are across it,” declared Lyra. “There must be a trail down into it.”
“Lyra,” Syman sighed, “we have already pushed the horses too far. I am surprised that they are still able to move. If we don’t rest them, we will end walking to Alamar and it is still a long way off.”
“I don’t understand why we are in such a hurry,” Antello added. “I am sure that we lost the invaders days ago. Syman is right about the horses. They can’t go any farther without rest. I could use some myself. What is the rush?”
Lyra looked at each of them for a moment and then dropped her eyes to view the canyon. After an awkward moment of silence, she pulled the packs off her horse. “Okay,” she relented, “we will rest the horses for a few hours, but then we find a way across this canyon.”
Syman looked at Antello and the blond-haired youth just shrugged and removed his own packs. Syman stormed over to Lyra and stood before her. “There is something that you are not sharing with us,” he accused. “Ever since you fried your hand, you have been pushing us at full speed, heedless of where we were going or the needs of our animals. Did you have a vision or something? Is it so frightening that you cannot share it with your friends? Do you think we will desert you if we know? Lyra, we will never desert you, but we will also not allow you to hurt yourself and tha
t is what you are doing. We go no farther until the horses are well rested and you tell us why we are keeping such a pace.”
Lyra just stared right through him and Syman turned and stormed off to see to his own horse. Antello tried to ease the tension with some light remarks, but the looks he received from Lyra and Syman caused him to accept the silence of the campsite. When Antello had finished taking care of his horse and Lyra’s, he sat down, leaned against a sevemor tree, and pulled the map out of his pack. He was studying the map when Syman sat next to him.
“Did you really have to start a fight with her?” Antello asked. “She is probably just upset over her hand.”
Syman gazed over at Lyra, who had remained standing at the edge of the Wound looking at the other rim with longing. “There is nothing wrong with her hand,” Syman replied. “I don’t understand why or how it was healed, but I never did understand magic much. No, Antello, there is something wrong and she is keeping it from us. She is frightened, but it is more than that and I aim to find out what it is.”
“Maybe she just had a bad dream,” Antello suggested. “I had some weird ones a few nights ago.”
Syman snapped his head toward Antello. “What kind of dreams?” he asked.
“Oh nothing terrible,” shared Antello. “Just Master Caulder asking me a bunch of questions over and over. I had the same dream for two nights straight, but then they stopped.”
“Were the questions about who we were and why we were here?” Syman quizzed.
“How did you know that?” Antello frowned. “I never said anything about it to you.”
“Because I had them too,” Syman sighed.
“They were not dreams,” Lyra declared startling the young men as she slid to the ground before them. “I am sorry, Syman. I should have told you everything, but I didn’t want you to lose hope, as I have. We are all going to die if we don’t get out of the Sakova immediately.”
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