by Susi Wright
Xandor smiled at Espira's maturity. The years of training had begun to pay off.
Shuul had an almost permanent smile, especially in Lady Espira's company. She was indisputably Ji's woman, but he was unashamedly devoted and always would be.
Ji wanted to avoid any possibility that he could be left out of the action, when it happened. He eagerly added to the plan. “I will hobble the samblars safely, close to the edge of town. That way all four of us can sneak in. No sense in wasting a good sword-arm!”
“Well, there is a little time – no fire, of course. Who else is for a snack of wood-grubs to keep up our energy? There are bound to be some in the fallen logs around here!” Xandor looked very enthusiastic about his idea. To all Gaians, it was a normal part of life; he, or Luminor, had introduced the emergency food source to all the young students, including Espira, during the course of their training. He seemed convinced the environment would throw up some suitable insect.
Espira had eaten similar grubs several times, for no other reason than to prove that her mettle equalled that of any warrior, brave enough to swallow her natural reflex to vomit. Once, at around the age of ten or twelve, she, Ardientor and Ji had engaged in a contest to determine who could eat the most before they actually threw up. She had won, of course, managing to down fifty, outstaying both the boys. She had then vomited long and hard, and her digestion had not been right for days after that. Hungry enough now, she conceded the need to eat such things again – probably many more times before this quest was over. She believed her stomach could tolerate up to six of the fat, slimy larvae, depending on the size.
On the journey from Baram, Ji and his company had partaken of many and varied insects, seeds and fruits. It was all in a day's survival now, although insects were his least favourite and nothing compared to a nice roast rabbit. His stomach rumbled loudly. He eyed Shuul's cross-bow, wondering if there was any alternative wild-life left in the forest.
The idea of wood-grubs presented no challenge to Shuul. The nomadic life of a Cymbian necessitated an omnivorous approach to diet from birth. A full belly of anything nutritious was a wonderful thing!
With his greater experience, Xandor did the foraging; in a few minutes, he returned, pockets full of green hairy-legged grubs. “Eat up!” he said with a grin, handing out a few to each person. “I suggest you cut off the legs first!”
That made them slightly more palatable.
The short time before dusk provided a rare opportunity to rest, especially now the rain was easing. They went over the plan one more time. Once they had moved in as close as possible to the armoury which was on the northern side of Strorn, by skirting around the town through the forest, Shuul would camouflage himself and go in first.
According to Shuul, the town was not well fortified; the wall along that side, with an overgrown dry moat and a lone guard provided more of a means for them to advance close to their goal, rather than a defence against them. Less than a hundred paces of open ground separated the wall at that point from the forest.
Shuul was in his element in a raid. “These walleen and frager clansmen are few in number. And lucky for us, there are no florks or any other animals left in town, rideable or not. We can thank the Zorgs for that! When we escape, I do not think they will give chase.
“I will get two of the guards outside the armoury door before they know something is happening, one more, before the fourth sounds the alarm!” He was confident and accepted his part in this mission, but secretly wished to be in two places at once, also protecting the princess.
“I shall despatch the guard on the wall,” said Xandor, “and give the signal, before I join Shuul. We should be able to handle the other two or three.”
Ji's task was to secure the samblars among the trees, directly opposite the iron grate of a drainage tunnel in the wall. Shuul had cleverly discovered that this outlet ran along one side of the armoury, through the city wall, a perfect way to get the stolen weapons out!
“Lady Espira and I will go back to the first town gate, create a diversion,” added Ji. “Shuul told us that he saw one watchman leave his post. One or two will be easy to deal with. It will be a good start, if they have been drinking!”
“In either case, sword or dagger will suit the purpose. No noise . . .” Espira's tone was cold.
Ji regarded her with trepidation. This was a dangerous mission, very real and at close quarters; to think twice about killing could mean her life. However, he chose not to undermine her by voicing his concerns in company. Are you sure you can actually cut a man's throat? You never have –
She glared. How dare you even think it, Ji? Believe in me!
Ji dropped his gaze and Espira's attitude softened. You don't need to protect me. Please, just promise you will take care of yourself, love!
Shuul huffed. He found the intense meaningful looks between the lovers quite tedious. “Well, I am ready to go! Are we going to do this, or not?”
“It is set. It is almost dusk. Let's begin!” agreed Xandor.
Darkness, the ally of stealth, arrived quickly.
Ji and Espira finished double-tying the samblars in a thick copse, close to the tree-line. With quiet haste, they moved back in the direction of the town gate, using the woodland for cover.
Shuul had already gone; hidden, he would take up position within bow-sight of the armoury. Xandor shadowed him, grateful for the drifting fog which had replaced the drizzle; a few well-timed airborne leaps brought him to the base of the town wall, unseen by the guard above. He checked the grate. Shuul had loosened the few rusty bolts which had not already fallen out through disrepair.
He drew his dagger, and when the fog rolled in again, he jumped once more, landing silently behind the watchman. In a heartbeat, the man fell, gurgling quietly as blood pooled around him on the cold stone. Xandor crouched to wipe and sheath his blade, scanning along the wall both ways. Rising to his feet, he cupped his hands and made the sound of the forest-owl, hoping a similar creature inhabited this land. Within seconds, he was at the top of a steep stairwell leading down to the weapons room.
He paused briefly to listen for unwanted company, before he took the steps three at a time to an alcove close to the doorway. He heard two bow-shots in quick succession and the thud of falling bodies, his cue to move.
In four strides, he was there to help Shuul, just as another guard rounded the corner. The man saw Xandor, half-uttered a curse which was cut off by unseen hands around his throat and while he struggled, took the full force of Xandor's sword through his heart. He fell heavily backwards off the blade and suddenly Shuul became visible, momentarily stunned by the guard falling on top of him.
Xandor paused, but his concern was fleeting; now in plain sight, Shuul had rallied, shouldered his cross-bow and drawn his sabre.
He grinned. It seemed no-one else had heard the scuffle.
Together, they pushed the weighty timber door open, surprising not two, but four more frager who were engrossed in a game of dice. Confronted by two strangers, the powerfully-built guards reacted instantly, blades in hand. If they had been drinking, it was not evident. All four lunged, converging on Xandor and Shuul.
Xandor leapt into the air and Shuul disappeared. The four attackers floundered, bewildered, in the empty space.
Xandor struck from above, dealing a fatal downward blow to one guard, blocking the sword of another with an upward sweep, to engage fully, strike for strike with the heavy-set frager. Head and shoulders above Xandor, his opponent was no rag-tag mercenary. Strong and skilled and surprisingly fast, the man countered every move, matching Xandor's agility on the ground and only disadvantaged when the Gaian took to the air. Menacing, intent, the frager pressed on for a while, but was finally out-manoeuvred when Xandor came down behind him and summarily ran him through.
Shuul lunged and parried with the other two, appearing and disappearing randomly; this talent evened the odds, confusing his adversaries enough for him to get the upper hand for a while. With quick e
fficient thrusts of his sword he managed to kill one and wound the other. However, seemingly undeterred by the magic at play, the injured guard fought on, striking at Shuul when he could see him, almost able to predict his next move.
It was over, however, when Xandor came to Shuul's aid; between them it was easy to despatch the last frager. They wasted no time, stepping over the small pile of bodies to assess the weaponry in the storage room beyond.
On duty just outside the town gate, a single watchman, a short, stocky walleen soldier, had been joined by an inebriated comrade of similar appearance. They spoke and the newcomer handed over a flagon of wine with a careless laugh, before turning to head back into town. His steps were unsteady and slow.
Neither guard seemed to notice the hoot of the owl. The first man took a long draught of wine, so pleased and occupied with his booty that he neglected to close the gate.
There were now two sentries to deal with and a wide expanse of open ground to cross; Espira made a quick decision, hefting her dagger. I must be the one to go. Wait a few seconds, then follow!
Ji had no time to object. Clenching his jaw, he slid his sword soundlessly from the scabbard, his anxious eyes following Espira's flight across the space.
He watched the startled guard drop the wine-cask and try to turn as Espira landed behind him. She was too quick. No hesitation. The man fell, silenced before he could cry out, but the crash of the flagon on the cobblestones alerted the other guard who noticed his comrade fall bleeding into the open gateway. He came back, weapon in hand, weaving forward for several seconds, before he thought to bellow the alarm.
Ji covered the fifty strides at a sprint and lunged at the walleen with his blade, almost colliding with Espira as she did the same. The man did not stand a chance, lethally wounded in the chest and kidneys. However, a dozen others who had heard the warning above the noise of their own revelling in the nearby drinking house, were on their way to investigate; the sounds of hostile voices announced their approach.
As the angry mob came into view, Ji and Espira surged forward to meet them head on. The drunkest ones were easy targets; the others, not quite so. Both walleen and frager clansmen were competent in a fight. Three tall, imperious frager were yelling orders at the other men. They were excellent swordsmen, leading by example, and they were ferocious.
Against such mettle and menace and outnumbered four to one, the couple's skill was sorely tested. Even Espira, with her ability to predict an opponent's moves was challenged when so many attacked at once.
Ji fought like a madman; driven by his concern for her, his strength and capabilities seemed to double. He killed another tall man and advanced on two of the smaller, walleen foes.
A wounded frager gained his feet and rejoined the fray, after Ji like a hound on a bone. Ji fought on, blocking and slashing, like a veteran twice his age. Even when momentarily distracted by Espira's fall and roll, to avoid a flying dagger, he hardly noticed the slash to his left forearm, continuing to fight off three opponents at once. A deep slice to his upper thigh, however, sent him to his knees. Warm blood ran freely, soaking his lower leg, but for the moment adrenaline kept the pain at bay and his energy up. He struck out left and right, as four adversaries bore down on him. Despite his grit, he faltered twice as he began to tire.
Noticing Ji was outnumbered Espira became a blur, abandoning her fight to join in his. As expected, her opponents followed, making it seven to two; several stragglers must have heard the action and approached at a run, brandishing Morvian cutlasses.
The noise of the alarm and ensuing skirmish carried far into the empty streets. Xandor had planned for it; he and Shuul responded as soon as they heard the fighting escalate. They had worked quickly, gathering the required weapons into a pile. Leaving the four crates of arrows at the tunnel entrance by the corner of the armoury building, they rushed to the couple's aid.
With four of them on task, the dozen or so pillagers soon lay dead around them.
Shuul looked doubtful as he surveyed the bodies. “I counted more than this, earlier!” His three companions listened with him, for others.
Nothing stirred.
“We will not look for trouble,” said Xandor with a tight smile. “If they have not heard all this, perhaps they are too drunk. If we hurry, we can get the crates out onto the samblars before anyone is the wiser!”
In silent agreement, they slipped away. Ji limped heavily, Espira noticed, as they and Shuul headed towards the armoury. Xandor peeled off and exited the gate, taking off by cloak into the forest to fetch the samblars.
Espira put a hand on Ji's arm. “You are wounded!” She glanced at the blood trickling down his arm, then caught sight of his blood-soaked leggings. “In two places!”
It sounded like an accusation to Ji. “I killed at least four of the enemy! You did no better! Anyway – its only a couple of scratches – don't worry about it!” The pain was making him a little aggressive.
“Stop your squabbling, we have much yet to do!” Shuul certainly had no time for a lover's tiff in the middle of a raid.
Espira opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. She tugged on Ji's good arm, meaning for him to lean on her, as they made their way to the weapons cache.
Ji refused her help and struggled on using his sword as a crutch.
By the time the three had carried the crates between them, half-way along the drain, Xandor had arrived with the animals. They were just visible in the muted moonlight outside the open grate.
Arrows packed in this manner were heavy. It took two to carry each box, so several trips were necessary to get all four out ready to load.
When Ji tried to help, Xandor noticed how badly he was injured and changed places with him.
Several minutes later, they were tying the crates onto the backs of the samblars, when a shout went up close to the arms depot. Too close.
Ropes secured, Ji and Shuul mounted up, each holding the lead reins of two pack animals. Ji steeled himself against the pain in his leg to dig in his heels; the two riders spurred the samblars to a gallop, headed for the forest, while Espira and Xandor took flight above them. Fate's hand gave them a valuable few seconds head-start.
They had almost reached the trees when a small group of pursuers burst from the tunnel, letting fly a volley of arrows. Only one shaft found a target, in the rump of a pack-samblar. The animal squealed and bucked but, on instinct, knew safety lay in keeping up with the others; it charged on, close behind Ji's mount, fortunately without dislodging its load.
A second salvo of shafts rained in their wake, but fell short.
They were away!
It started to rain again as they galloped on in the darkness.
At this pace, in the pitch dark, there was a real danger of a samblar taking a fall. Exposed tree roots and mud-holes were a constant threat. Ji and Shuul took the utmost care to guide their mounts safely, and as soon as they were well clear of Strorn, they slowed down to a much safer pace, the ground-covering gambol.
Ji looked over his shoulder, concerned about the injured samblar. Now severely lame, it had begun to struggle and lagged heavily on the lead rope. The arrow was embedded deep in the animal's hindquarters.
Turning back to Shuul, Ji tried to ignore a sudden wave of dizziness. “This . . . samblar needs attention. Perhaps we can afford a short stop soon. I must remove the shaft and deal with the wound or we will lose her!”
Espira heard this, but she was more worried about Ji. Regardless of his earlier denial, she was aware he had lost a lot of blood and was suffering from it. A rest stop, however short, was a good idea.
Xandor favoured pressing on for a while. “It is not far to one of the abandoned homesteads we passed on the outward journey. I would say . . . ten or so furlongs. We could all use some shelter and a hearth-fire!”
The air-cloaks were becoming sodden; soon flying would become difficult. The companions were already freezing cold and exhausted, as the steadily increasing rain forced the riders f
rom a gambol to a steady plod.
Ji's injured arm had stiffened painfully in its position, angled to hold his reins. The good arm ached from being wrenched backwards by the lead rein on the lame samblar; his thigh was getting worse, throbbing in agony as he guided his mount by knee pressure.
He was so thirsty! His vision swam, with each new wave of nausea; gritting his teeth hard, he shook his head, fighting to keep himself conscious. Two furlongs seemed like two leagues. Ji's forced his focus between the ears of the samblar, but black spots buzzed before his eyes like a swarm of bees, his thoughts became disjointed and Xandor's voice seemed far, far away . . .
“There it is!” Xandor had spotted the promised cabin, nestled in a clearing not far ahead.
At that point, Ji finally lost his battle and pitched sideways from his samblar.
Chapter 44 : REFUGE
Freezing mud squelched beneath their feet, the slow one-two of the march marking time for an exodus of souls never before seen in this land.
In close company, heads down against the driving rain, the survivors of the Zorg invasion and their rescuers trudged the long road south towards the Impossible Mountains. Their sodden cloaks, wrapped tight around their bodies, provided a token of comfort against the cold, as these people endured the conditions of their survival with nothing but a glimmer of hope in their hearts to urge them on.
Burdened with riders and travois, the long-suffering samblars wetly plodded the last hours of the long day, necks lowered, ears back and stamina tested to the limit.
Gaian fliers struggled to remain airborne; their cloaks, woven from water-bird feathers, were naturally resilient but eventually they became heavy and unwieldy, even dangerous.
Above them all, soared the dragon, majestic despite the wet gloom. Visible through drifting banks of cloud, Ra sailed aloft, his borrowed rider a mere speck on his back; with neck outstretched and powerful strokes of his pinions, the wyvern surged forth through an ever-darkening sky which threatened much more than close of day, as the rain worsened to fine slivers of stinging ice. Of course, a dragon's flight in Existence would always be little affected by mortal inclemency, but it could be said that even Ra had been in a better mood.