by Melina Grace
She was glad she did because as the grey people finished their small portions of bread they began to look at Crispin. Two of the larger men were the first to get up and head over to him, followed closely by another five people. Caris realised that now that they thought they were far enough away from his friends to stop, they would lose no time in searching him, and once they had found what they wanted, they would kill him.
Caris only had six arrows with her and she knew there was no way she could overcome so many enemies with her limited sword skills and only a knife as a weapon. Her only hope was to convince the group that there were enough on her side to warrant running away.
Caris whistled to Indira, who familiar with this signal from their rides at home, came to her immediately. Caris grabbed a few rocks that were close by. The grey people had heard the noise of her horse. Caris mounted up and called back into the bush “They’re over here!” She shot an arrow, taking out the largest of the enemy, and then quickly mounting Indira, crashed through the bushes.
When she reached a gap in her covering, she shot an arrow at another large man from Indira’s back. As she moved another few paces, she threw rocks into the clearing, and being careful to stay concealed, shot another arrow, taking a woman in the throat.
The grey people wrenched Crispin back onto his feet and began running off along the track. Caris threw the last of her rocks at their retreating backs and fired her three remaining arrows, finding her target every time.
Now it’s just one on nineteen, she thought with satisfaction, while laughing at herself for imagining they were improved odds. She waited for the last of the grey people to move out of sight before emerging from the bush. She walked over to the shallow pool, had a long drink and filled her water bottle. Then she led Indira down to the water and left her to drink and crop the green grass around its edge while she collected and cleaned her arrows. Before long Caris was mounted again and cantering after the group who had taken Crispin captive.
Caris exhausted herself over the next two nights and the intervening day. She couldn’t understand how the grey people could keep going on foot. Late afternoon the previous day the group had started following a wide track, well worn after years of use. The riding was easy and unhindered. Crispin’s attackers had kept to it all night and Caris had ceased to employ her tracking skills at dusk, trusting to the track to stay on their trail. She had picked off a few more people since they’d started following the wide track.
Caris had just retrieved an arrow from one of her fallen enemy and was riding Indira at a brisk walk in order to catch up with the group. She rode, almost asleep in her saddle, listening to the sound of fast moving water ahead. The sound grew increasingly loud and in her state of tiredness, Caris was less alert than she should have been.
Rounding a bend, the track opened onto an open sand and rock area next to the river. Caris was jolted to wakefulness by the realisation she was in full view of the grey people who had come to a halt at the river’s edge. This was the first time they had dared to stop since their ill-fated break two days ago. Crispin had been growing increasingly unstable on his feet, to the point where they were mostly dragging him.
Caris guessed they had opted to search him and run on, rather than trying to get him across the rocky river. He was on the ground, at some point they had unbound his hands, but he was too weak to put up much resistance as they rummaged through his clothing. Though only twelve grey people remained, there were still too many for Caris to hope to defeat.
Caris held her breath as she steered Indira off the track and into the bushes. She dismounted and leading her horse deeper into the growth worked her way around to a spot closer to Crispin. She began shooting her arrows, hoping to scare them on again, but they had already found what they were looking for. Even as her arrows took another of them down, they leapt and hooted in their triumphant excitement. Ignoring their fallen comrade they lifted Crispin and carried him a short distance downstream.
With horror, Caris realised what had been making the river sound so loud. Just on the far side of the trail was a cliff, and the river was pouring over the edge!
Caris shot another arrow, killing one of the people carrying Crispin; the others merely took up the slack and, as she watched, hoisted him into the river. He clutched at a rock, but the flow of the water was too strong and it carried him over the edge.
Caris didn’t notice the grey people yelling in triumph and quickly making their way across the river as she sped through the trees to the top of the fall of water. The drop was as high as a tall tree; she could see Crispin below, floating down the river on his back.
He could still be alive, she thought with hope. He would not remain so though without help. The water looked deep below and Caris did not know how to swim. She looked frantically to either side of the water, searching for a way to descend, but there was no way down the sheer drop.
Noticing a small smooth log by the water’s edge Caris ran to it, picked it up and, using her belt, tied it to herself. With a deep breath, she leapt into the river.
The water swirled Caris in circles and then carried her over the edge of the cliff.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Janen came around the corner at a trot. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight of Caris. He kicked Prince into a gallop. The relief in his eyes disappeared as he watched Caris jump into the river hugging a small log to herself. At first, he couldn’t work out what she was doing but then he saw the water plummeting over the side of the cliff.
“No!” he yelled, spurring Prince to greater speed, but it was too late. The water had already washed Caris over the edge.
He rushed to the cliff top, aghast when he realised how high it was. He stared into the turbulent water below but could see no sign of her.
In despair, Janen cursed himself for not getting there sooner, though he knew they had pushed the horses as hard as they could with such a delayed start.
After Caris ran away from the fight in pursuit of Crispin, a huge wave of grey ones had flooded into the clearing from the west. At first, Janen thought he and all his new friends would be slaughtered. He and Tilda, already exhausted, had fought hard in their defence of Bek, but no matter how many grey ones they killed, more replaced them.
A grey one had managed to slice a long gash down Tilda’s sword arm and she was barely keeping them back with her left. At some point Kalen had regained consciousness and alerted the others to Crispin’s absence. With hundreds of grey ones surrounding them and no idea of where Crispin had been taken, pursuit was impossible.
Kalen had taken charge; her immediate goal was to get as many of the band to safety as possible. She instructed the others to get to Tilda and Janen, and so they gradually fought their way through the grey people until they could form a circle around them. Once in position they had closed ranks, with every third person stepping into the middle of the circle to rest. The grey ones were clumsy fighters and individually no real threat. Their sheer numbers and the fatigue of The King’s Horse were the real enemy.
The grey ones continued to come in large numbers throughout the afternoon. The King’s Horse could only hold their position, and by constantly taking turns resting, managed to defend themselves until evening, when the grey ones finally dispersed.
When the fighting was finished, Janen had wanted only to collapse on the ground in fatigue, but Kalen had not allowed it. Exhausted herself, she had rallied everyone who could walk to gather the horses. It was not an easy task. Initially The King’s Horse had charged through the clearing on the horses, killing as many grey ones as possible before disappearing into the brush on the other side. Crispin then had them dismount and scatter their horses into the brush. With so many grey ones in the vicinity, the horses had fled far-and-wide. The weary fighters retrieved only a handful. Janen was happy that Prince was one of them.
Kalen refused to remain in the clearing, ready targets for any grey ones who chose to return. So, after cleaning and bandaging the worst of the wou
nded and mounting them on horses, the weary fighters made their way slowly through the bush back to The King’s road.
They spent a restless and uncomfortable night by the side of the road. Kalen set a watch; two were on the first shift, two for the middle, and two for the morning. Despite his fears for Caris, Janen fell into a deep and troubled sleep as soon as he allowed himself to lie down. It felt like he had only just drifted off when Garner woke him to take his turn on the third watch.
Janen paced back and forwards along the road. He had already packed his gear and was impatient to leave. He had to find Caris. How can they sleep? He asked of the exhausted King’s Horse, even though he knew that only a short while ago he had been in a deep sleep himself. Standing around camp doing nothing, while Caris was in danger was tormenting Janen, but it was his turn to watch and he couldn’t let the sleepers come to danger because of his unreliability.
It seemed to take an age for the sun to come up and the camp to begin to stir. Kalen was up first, even though she had been one of the last to lie down after tending the injured, and had taken the middle, and most exhausting watch. She examined the wounded, offering what relief she could without her supplies.
Janen looked around and noticed there was hardly anyone fit to mount a search for Caris and Crispin. The other four scouts who had been out at the time of the attack had not rejoined them; neither had Bridee and Frystal, he realised. Hopefully they followed Caris and Crispin, he thought. He moved over to Kalen ready to tell her he was going in pursuit. He could not stay here waiting for the others to recover while Caris was in danger.
He stood to the side while she finished giving Jispri instructions. “Bek, Gemeil, Belti, Corin, and Holmen can’t ride far. I’ve done what I can for them now, but you and Garner will have to take turns looking for Bonny and the other horses. I’ll leave Tilda here as well, she can look after the injured and help protect the others. If you get my white salve onto their wounds most of them will be able to ride within the next couple of days.”
She paused, with a look of concern, “Bek needs sewing. Bonny can do it if you help her. Put some of my purple salve into the wound before stitching it up, use it sparingly, mind! Too much will burn him up.” She sighed deeply, “I hate to leave him, but I have nothing to tend him with here. You have to find my horse and pack, Jispri, and quickly. I have to pursue Crispin and the pendant. You’re in charge until you find Bonny.”
She turned to Janen “Come”, she said, and led him to where Syngar had readied three horses.
Kalen led them down The King’s road. Janen wanted to spur Prince into a gallop, but knew that would be pointless without a trail to follow.
“We need to return to where we were yesterday so we can pick up their trail,” Janen said.
“Their most likely course was west,” said Syngar, “Though they have fooled us before,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Janen to hear.
“We will follow The King’s road in search of where they crossed, if we can’t find their trail we will head back to yesterday’s position. We will find the pendant,” Kalen said with determination, “but for Crispin’s sake I hope we find them sooner rather than later.”
And what of Caris? Janen wondered.
Kalen’s plan sounded simple enough, but hundreds of grey ones had come from the west, cutting across The King’s road and trampling the bush to either side. The sun was already directly overhead before Janen noticed what they had begun to despair of finding. He had dismounted to examine some long green grass on a narrow trail that cut across The King’s road. The grass had been pushed in a westerly direction the day before and hadn’t completely regained its height yet. Next to the grass in some damp dirt was a boot print.
Kalen and Syngar confirmed it looked like Crispin’s, and their pursuit began. The going was difficult at first as many grey ones had crossed the path. The signs were not very clear after a day’s passing, but Janen’s sharp eyes and the training Tilda and Bek had given him, helped him to notice every tell.
With Kalen and Syngar’s occasional help, they managed to follow their trail until they put some distance between them and the fight; Once clear of most of the other grey one’s paths, it had been easier and they had been able to pick up their pace. They pushed on into the night, but when clouds filled the sky, obscuring the light from the moon, they were forced to stop and sleep.
They rose early to continue the pursuit. There was no sign that the grey ones had horses and Janen began to fear they were following the wrong ones. How could they get so far ahead of us on foot, even with such a head start? Maybe I’ve made a mistake. He saw another of Indira’s hoof prints and shook his head to clear away the useless doubts. They were on the right track.
The trail had widened, less leaves and small branches were broken to confirm the direction of the lost ones but occasionally Janen would notice long green grass that had been trampled. He passed some now; it had been trodden on recently. He held a hand up to signal that they were nearing those they tracked, and then remembered Kalen and Syngar didn’t know the hand language. Making eye contact with Kalen, he mouthed, “We’re close”.
So they had slowed down, at the most crucial point in their pursuit! Janen felt sick with the knowledge that if they had continued to canter those last few minutes he would have been in time to save Caris, Crispin, and the pendant.
****
The fall seemed to last forever, and then Caris was crashing feet first into the pool below. She hugged her log with all her strength as the water pummelled her in its depths.
Caris held her breath as long as she could, her lungs felt like they were going to explode, the water beat at her from every side and still she didn’t know how to reach the surface.
The rough current swept her downstream, the water tossing her log around. She pulled herself up beside it and grabbed a quick breath of air before the log reasserted itself over the top of her. She struggled to climb on top of it, but although she managed to get another breath, the log was not large enough for her to lie on and her belt prevented her from riding beside it.
Caris attempted to untie her hurried knot but the water had swelled the rope causing it to hold fast. She began to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen; desperately she worked at the largest part of the knot until it finally gave.
In utter exhaustion, Caris draped her arms over the log and allowed her legs to trail alongside it as the river washed her downstream.
She was sore all over but could not afford to stop. Lifting her head high she tried to look downstream to find Crispin, but she could not see him. The river was flowing more gently now. Caris began kicking her legs, the way she had seen Syngar doing when he trialled the air reeds. She found it did help to increase her speed somewhat, and that if she held onto the log with one arm it kept her afloat while allowing her to push the water with her other arm moving her incrementally in the direction she wanted to go.
The river wound its way around in a large bend; Caris kicked her legs and used her arm to try to stay in the middle where the current was strongest. As the river straightened out before her somewhat, she pushed herself up on her log to look ahead and was rewarded with the sight of Crispin snagged by the side of the river.
He was still a fair distance ahead but in panic Caris realised that at the speed she was going, the water was going to carry her straight past him.
She began to kick and push the water in an attempt to reach the side, almost crying in despair.
Caris forced herself to regain control of her emotions. She settled into a rhythm of kicking and pushing that was slowly succeeding in cutting across the current. She realised she wasn’t going to overshoot him by much and even if she did, it would only be a matter of making her way back, through the thick underbrush that lined the riverbank, to get to him.
Caris reached the side bank only a stone’s throw downstream from Crispin. It wasn’t deep near the edge but exhausted, as she was, she struggled to find purchase on the rocks in t
he flowing water. She grabbed hold of a thin leafy branch overhanging the edge and, banging her knee on a large rock, managed to stop her momentum and pull herself to the bank where she climbed up, collapsing on the damp earth. Utterly spent, Caris wanted only to lie there, but forced herself to her feet and stumbled through the undergrowth back to Crispin.
She found him wedged amongst leaves, sticks, and other river debris against a branch that had fallen into the river. He was still on his back but deathly white. As Caris waded into the shallow water, she feared she would find him already gone from his body. She tried to check for breath right there in the water, but with the constant movement and sound of the river, she could not find any. If he was still breathing, it was very faint.
Caris reached down, and grabbing him beneath his arms, began to pull him towards the bank. It wasn’t too difficult while they were in the water but once she reached the incline of the bank, she almost wept in exhaustion. Reaching deep inside herself, Caris found a well of emotional strength she had never accessed before and, forcing tired muscles into obedience, pulled Crispin up the soft bank, that continually gave under her feet, onto a patch of long green grass on level ground.
She knelt over him and put her cheek to his mouth. There was breath! It was faint and slow, but she was sure there was breath. He was so cold though. Caris looked around for a clearing and found one not too far away by the water.
She once again stood and dragged Crispin to it; it was a small, rocky, sandy area. She found a large flat rock that was warm from the midday sun and dragged Crispin onto it.
She stood looking at him, glad that no one was around to see her burning red cheeks. If he was to warm up, she had to get him out of his wet clothes. Pushing her embarrassment aside, she began to pull him out of his wet shirt.
Getting him out of his clothes was a harder job than she had imagined but finally she had him down to his small clothes. That will be enough; she thought and laid his uniform on some rocks to dry.