by B A Fleming
One attacker appeared on the branch in front of him and the horse weaved to other side to avoid it. He slashed at the small limb it stood on, slicing through with minimal effort, hearing the creature crash to the ground behind as he rode on.
He could perceive the sounds of multiple skirmishes break out as he chose to ride on through.
Another arrow struck the tree in front of Casperi and he leant forward, hunching over his mount to give his attackers as smaller target as possible. A horse screamed from behind, as he kept riding.
The path had narrowed and several of the soldiers that had made their own trails through the dense underbrush,
only now re-joining as it seemed that the trouble had passed.
Casperi’s horse reared up, bawling, an arrow protruding from its shoulder. Its left leg collapsed underneath its own weight and as the mount landed Casperi lifted his leg up to jump and roll away from the dying animal as a short creature with a sword came upon him as he hit the ground.
Casperi rolled away from the first strike, giving himself enough time to position his legs and his sword for the immediate second strike. This time he was able to parry, slide, and put his foe off balance enough to strike him with a blow, almost removing the creature’s sword arm. It stumbled back in pain as he advanced and finished it off.
The Grangol was three quarters of his height, hairy, with long arms, a flattened forehead, large, protruding ears and heavy eyebrows that covered indeterminable eyes. Its protruding teeth showed the fear it felt. He dispatched it with a quick lunge and twist, opening its inners between them.
Within a few moments most of the party could be seen scattered within a hundred feet or so of forest all facing another wave of Grangols standing about them smiling to each other. The forest was dense and the party slowed. Some of the others had been removed from their saddles by a second wave of attackers dropping from the branches.
Fighting broke out as soldiers and Grangols alike pushed and parried in the half darkness. The creatures had the obvious advantage but the swords of the soldiers of Catheridge were longer and the spot chosen for the battle enabled them enough room to swing, especially those rational enough to lead their opponent out into clearings as the forest inconsistently thinned in this area.
A slightly larger Grangol appeared. It looked down at its companion and then to the prince.
Casperi had trained with a sword every day since he could remember and all of his opponents had known that they faced the son of a Baron as their opponent.
This beast saw just another human that it needed to kill and drew its stolen weapon from the sheath and sized up its opponent.
The beast snarled at Casperi, both in a sign of aggression and knowing that such an act had intimidated several opponents previously, enough for it to make an easy for strike.
Casperi tried to remember the training motto taught to him by Swordmaster Nathe. “Wait, defend, and look for an opening to strike.”
Casperi didn’t blink. He briefly studied the beast, its stance, the space around it and himself, without breaking eye contact. It was looking for fear in his eyes, for his weakness, and he knew that it started with the eyes. If he broke contact the beast would know that he was afraid and that it would be only a matter of time before he was dead.
Its eyes let out a glimmer of intelligence in the dim light. He could see a scar across its forearm and another at the top of its shoulder. This was an experienced opponent that had cheated death several times before. He moved his weight carefully to the left giving himself more room to strike. It moved with him, countering his passage, and then it launched.
Quickly Casperi blocked and parried as his opponent danced backwards out of the swing. The creature smiled and stepped forward again and again he defended himself.
It was easy to see that the creature had the advantage over his young opponent until another jumped at it from its left-hand side. The creature reacted blocking the first strike, but the upswing caught it in the side and it howled at its new opponent.
Casperi stood, surprised by the attack of one of his knights, who stepped forward again, trading blows with the creature. The knight wore a hood, an extra part of the thick tunic they all wore under their armor.
He struck again, into the creatures’ side this time, but it also swung wildly down upon him, slicing into his neck.
The knight stumbled backwards and Casperi jumped forward, striking the creature across its back. It fell forward, and he plunged his sword through the skin into its torso as it slid down his blade and onto the ground.
Casperi turned to see the knight laying on the ground a few feet from him.
“Thank you, my lord,” he gasped, and then laid back, dead as his hood fell back to reveal his identity.
Casperi felt the presence of another creature as it rushed through the underbrush behind him. He turned, sure footed and slashed out at his assailant, taking the beast across the face. It fell silently forward, rolling across a steep section of the uneven ground as it landed. Casperi turned to look at the dead soldier again. It was Renual.
Casperi started to cry as he stood over his old friend. His melancholy eyes showed the outcome of the battle for him. It was a difficult moment to face fierce battle for the first time, as all his conquests had previously been of companions in the weapons yard of the castle. Casperi touched the arm of his dead friend as Dralan approached.
“Renual?”
“Yes,” Casperi barely managed, still looking at his childhood friend.
“In my culture, we undertake a ritual for the dead. May I provide this for your friend?”
He sat up on his knees, his head spinning as Dralan muttered some words, waving his hands up and down the body, placing his hand above the dead man’s chest for a few moments. Casperi sat half turned from him staring out into the forest.
An arrow shot straight past him barely missing his face. A fight broke out momentarily in the shadows and then Nathe stepped out. Dralan signed, the shaft embedded into his arm, and then he collapsed.
A Grangol screamed some fifty paces away, as an arrow pieced its chest. Thais and several soldiers had taken to firing off several arrows to reduce their opponents’ numbers. The Grangols vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
“What were those things?” asked one soldier.
“Grangol, I think,” answered a scout. “Cousins to the Triund that we should meet on our way up out of the valley.”
Thais picked up two bows and several arrows of one of the dead Grangol. Blood dripped down her arm but didn’t seem to delay her. “The bows are made of yew or animal horns.”
“Although not as deadly as our own bows, they are pretty effective in bringing down our men,” the scout noted. She looked across to Casperi and then noticed Dralan collapsed next to the body of Renual.
*****
Casperi brought in the bowl of soup to Thais, who sat changing the wound of Dralan in his tent. He stirred, opening his eyes to see the siblings looking at him.
“I die and wake up staring at you two?”
“We’re prettier than a Grangol,” smiled Casperi.
“She is,” Dralan looked at Thais, “but you aren’t by much.”
He laid on his back, shirtless. Thais touched his tattooed chest.
“Such amazing markings,” she observed.
He grinned slightly at her. Casperi rolled his eyes. Thais continued to look at him sheepishly, withdrawing her hands to play with the edge of his blanket.
“How is your injury?” Dralan finally asked.
Casperi had sat back, taking a more observational role in the conversation.
“It’s only a scratch,” she answered.
“Do you think you can stand?” asked Casperi rising. Thais turned to look at him, and then down towards the floor of the tent. She stood as well, taking a mouthful of her soup as she watched him.
Dralan turned to his side, raising his torso first as he folded himself in and then out again as he stood up an
d stretched.
He could feel the energy returning to his body. His legs were a bit stiff but he knew that they would soften up after a short time. Thais and Casperi left him to dress.
Dralan made his way over to fire and requested some soup from the cook, who had been facing away from him and hadn’t noticed that he had awakened.
“You were lucky to survive,” said the man, handing him a bowl of soup.
“Why? How long have I been asleep?”
Nathe had noticed him and made his way over to the conversation.
“A full day. Our enemy use a poison that I’ve not encountered before. It contains a strong magic, and I imagine would kill most that it touches. But you are different in a way. It certainly knocked you around, even brought you to the edge of death. But you sweated all the toxins out, they passed through you and even killed some of the grass upon which you laid. We had to move you three times. But now, it seems, the worst is over for you.”
“Where are we?”
“A day down the Steps. We strapped you and two others onto horses and brought you down with us. One of them didn’t last the day.”
The party was camped near a river crossing. The water was calm by their campsite and nearby a thunderous waterfall rolled off another steep drop into the valley below.
“We’ll be out of the Steps by evening tomorrow,” added Nathe.
A thick fog had moved in overnight, blanketing the forest. It was not uncommon for this time of year but this seemed particularly dense even in this part of the valley and left the travelers without clear sight of more than a few paces.
A creature stared down from a tree branch above. Slowly, the scout backed away from its head, which was almost the size of his. He could see its long, slender body advancing towards him. It was his worst nightmare in the flesh.
The scout had become separated from his companion an hour earlier. He had always disliked snakes, even as a boy, but the ones he would find by the river and along the pathways of his village were only a foot or so long.
Even then they scared him, they terrified him with their ghastly strangulation of the local rats, crushing the air out of them, unhinging their jaws and eating them whole.
This moment was the worst of his fears and on a whole new level. The creature was over fifty foot in length with the thickness of his own torso, and had not only a long snake body but four nibble legs that grasped the branches as it slithered down towards him.
The Squamate stared him in the eyes, licking its slender
lips in anticipation of its next tasty meal. Its penchant for flesh widely evident, he slowly brought up his shield whilst gently sliding his sword from its sheath.
There would be no surviving this. No one had outrun a Squamate and this one seemed intent on its chosen prey. The scout had survived five battles in his lifetime. He had seen off a dozen different creatures across his travels but none of them held his fear more than the creature that stared into his eyes at this moment. The other kids would make fun of him and his fear of snakes as a child, but he was certain that none of them would be laughing if they were in his boots right now.
He took another few steps back, not to feign escape, that time had passed long ago, but to give himself ample room for the impending battle.
The Squamate was likely to be fast, but most of its prey usually froze when it came near, so it would be expecting him to do the same. The scout prepared the space around him to dodge the strike which was bound to occur. He also considered a defensive or offensive approach. Most likely it was expecting a defensive approach knowing it would be the one doing the killing.
Curran waited an extra hour for his second scout to return. The camp had been packed and the fog lifted enough that over fifty feet could be seen in any direction. The party set out. Two more soldiers and three horses had been lost in the battle with the Grangols, including Casperi’s childhood friend, Renual.
An hour later Curran found the fate of his unreturned scout. An almost dead Squamate lay in the forest, not far from the trail.
It had dragged its body away from the scene of a battle to eat its prize, but that last meal had come at a cost to both of them.
Late into the afternoon of the following day the platoon forded the current of the river, crossing to where the trail continued through the grassland.
The sun had been shining all morning and all were happy for a chance to dry out their clothes now draped on their saddles as soon as they exited the stream.
They had come down through the last of the forest and out onto a broad plain where thick grass grew, bordered by the broad stream where they had crossed. After ten minutes of riding the pace had relaxed and they stopped under a grove of large trees. Without unsaddling, the horses were allowed to graze as the group discussed their next move.
After a quick cup of tea, they remounted and continued across the grasslands. Within an hour of gentle riding they crossed another stream and quickly found a path leading north towards a town.
Nathe estimated that they were two days’ ride west of Caitawalaan, as the steeply cliffed valleys opened up to more gentle undulating plains leading to Tharkomad.
Far ahead they could see clusters of trees and small farm buildings. The trees thickened slightly on this path but it was obviously well travelled with a good mix between cover for shade and plenty of open space to clearly see others travelling upon the road and camping nearby.
A merchant passed the group after several minutes on the road. He gave them a curious look as he had probably seen them enter the road from the track that crossed a small stream, but said nothing. They felt no need to engage him and let him pass without discussion.
The party travelled in pairs and small conversations broke out between each duo, happy to see the end of danger for the time being, discussing various moments and observations from the past week. The comfortable pace allowed the day to slip by and the afternoon passed quickly as conversations turned from what had been experienced to what may lay ahead.
Sensing that they were no longer in danger, Nathe and Casperi discussed the options of spending one more night out on the road, or moving onwards to seek lodging in town. They stopped and set a fire going as both agreed there were strategies that would be better discussed over a quick brew.
A campfire was quickly started in the middle of a rocky patch just to the right of the road. It was a popular spot as several other campfires had been previously lit in the location in the days preceding.
The company gathered around the fire after all the horses had been watered.
They decided to continue for a few hours, but remain outside of the town until the next day. Curran could see smoke in the distance, so he knew that some sort of settlement existed within a few miles, even though the undulating plains gave them no clear sight of the buildings.
If they were to be met by enemies, it would be an even bet that they would be able to outrun them. These were the finest horses of the barony but they were also tired from over a week of continuous travel. They trotted the horses, saving them for any surprises.
The sun crested the hill and Nathe estimated they had maybe one hour of light left before nightfall. It was a good amount of time to find a spot to make camp, and gather firewood for the night. It had been a long day.
They dismounted and soothed the horses as they tied them. Then they led them to a nearby stream to allow them to drink as they lightly brushed the animals down. The horses were tied and allowed to graze with saddles removed as Curran prepared a small meal of beans and nuts.
Chapter 6
In the morning light the cultivated fields and road side merchants’ shops, inns and other outhouses were slowly commencing their day. Small outcrops of villages all signaled that they were reaching Tharkomad. They could see the walls of the keep, with its stone guard towers as they crested the last rise, within an hour of the walls. Tharkomad Lake stretch out from the other side of the town and the wagons of merchants could be seen bringing their g
oods along the main road from Caitawalaan. The group slowed as they reached the gates of the town.
Although an outpost, Tharkomad was the largest town in this end of the valley and the markets were a thriving place most days of the week. The recent extensions of the keep now made it look even more imposing.
A strong contingent of soldiers stood in both the towers and on the roads leading in, as this was also a dangerous land and many beasts and treacherous populations were known to inhabit the small valleys around the emergent city.
Several other travelers, local farmers bringing their produce to sell, and some unemployed mercenaries awaited their turn to enter as the soldiers stopped and discussed the purpose of their visit with every person seeking entry. It was better to cause a disturbance here rather than let troublemakers inside past the gates.
The soldiers inspected everything, opening pots, looking underneath all wagons, prodding hay with large forks, ensuring that no one had the opportunity to sneak by. As sunrise had been only a few short hours before, several parties were still packing up their belongings from camping outside the gates.
Although a few persuasive traders were able to come outside and offer goods to the camped out travelers, the gates remained firmly locked from sunset to sunrise.
Several lone figures sat leaning against the walls. Denue and Nathe looked across to each other. They knew that if anyone was watching out for their arrival that would be the
best place to sit. One picked as his nails, slightly glancing up, whilst another seemed to be dozing and a third held the gaze of each wagon owner for a few seconds.
They continued in private conversations as if nothing was amiss idly glancing at each of the strangers in turn in case persistent eyes followed their movements.
After almost twenty minutes the party finally passed through the gates. Denue kept an eye out over his shoulder as they made their way along the first street towards the main market. As if unexpected, two of the lone strangers had entered shortly after them as the party deviated left down a side street to see if there was any intent of the followers’ actions.