by Daniel Arndt
“The opening is small, hurry.“
Between the parade of wheels, Valente looked to the palisades. The line of pointed wood jutted from the ground as dark and armored silhouettes moved up and down its length. The light amplified these shadows into large looming lines of darkness. Any closer and even the night could not conceal the three. Valente rolled into a huddling crouch beside the huntress and the knight as he put forward his spare sap covered cloth ball. The three exchanged one more look. Gregor smiled with his whisper.
“This was truly an honor my friends.”
The knight’s words burned in their hearts as the knight rolled between the cart’s wheels. The heavy edge of the oncoming wheel skimmed Gregor’s remaining arm. Valente pushed up from the grass and darted under the carts. The speed almost pushed him too far towards the other side. The wheel threw dirt over his face enforcing its proximity. Cass’s roll ended beside the prince’s as she bumped into him. The contact sparked something in Valente’s gut, but he shook his head free of it. Gregor tapped Valente on the back and whispered under the rumble of the carts.
“Move. Now.”
Valente reached up wrapping his hand around the edge of the cart. He hoisted himself to the end of the cart. The canvas cover flapped from the jumble. Valente maneuvered his body on the ledge. His eyes looked forward. The distant camp's light outlined the shadowy driver of the cart. His attention was focused on the horses and darted on occasion east along the burning palisades. Valente reached down catching the hand of a large knight. Gregor reached up pulling on the cart. The horse neighed a complaint as the cart slightly slowed. The cart driver pulled on the leather reins clearly displeased by his faltering steeds. Valente held his breath and tensed his arm as the massive weight of the knight pulled up on the cart beside him. Gregor threw his hand down picked Cass up by the scruff of her neck. Her flailing arms and legs threw out protest as he dropped her gently on the canvas beside him. Cass glared at the knight and brandished her little blade. Gregor gave her a nervous smile. Cass’s eyes darted to the struggling driver of the cart as she moved her blade to the canvas’s ropes. The rope unraveled into many twines. Cass quickly pulled up the sheet revealing bars and chunks of grey iron. Gregor scooped a massive handful and placed it in the cart’s trail hiding the metal thuds between the bumps of the wheels. He moved to make room for the three occupants. Valente rubbed the strain from his arm and mimicked the process. Cass collected the fray of ropes trying to hide their tracks by loosely retying them in a braid. Gregor lowly grunted under the rumble of the cart and heaved the last handful free. The light of camp threatened to divulge their actions. Gregor pulled up the canvas and turned to Cass and Valente. The two rolled off the wall of the cart and into a hard landing. Cass bumped into Valente’s chest. Valente attempted to adjust and give her more room but the knight pushed himself in. Crushing Valente into a sandwich of a near-flattened huntress and a wall of iron.
Valente’s heart deafened the growing calls of soldiers and the pressed marching. The dark canvas above him grew grey as the light from the camp tried to pierce the fabric. Shadows passed over the cart, each sending a fragment of fear deeper into Valente’s already uncertain spirit. The loud rumble of iron against iron and the tread of laden wheels slowed. A call from the shadows of tents around them became distinct.
“Hail, merchant. Papers?”
A familiar voice called out from the leading cart.
“Ah yes, sir, just a moment... those fires are worrying.”
The neigh of horses pattered between the march of patrols.
“Yes, appears to have been a fallen torch. I had to send the majority of my men to help control it. Regardless, these carts are all Liosian iron?”
“Yes, sir, all four.”
A shadow loomed over the canvas lingering above the three.
“Mind if we inspect them?”
The familiar voice laughed.
“Of course, sir, nothing but metal and ores in there. Last shipment from the guild to fulfill the royal request.”
The shadow moved closer. Its breathing caused a waver in the canvas above. The rope Cass tied loosely rubbed against the cart.
“Old ropes? I thought you merchants could afford these things.”
The rope snapped as the shadow pulled on it. The canvas loosened above them. Gregor struggled to reach his blade pushing Cass and Valente into a deeply compressed state. The tar oozed from the cloth between them. Cass quietly groaned. The canvas lifted revealing the captain’s helmet. Its Liosian plume pointed towards the front of the caravan. He jokingly spoke as he shouted to the head merchant.
“I am required to ask, but have you seen a group of three travelers? A dark-haired fellow with bright blue eyes, a young woman with blonde hair and a bow of spidersilk, and,”
The commander’s sight returned to the cart his eyes deadlocked with its cargo. His voice stuttered to a surprised stop,
“a giant with a red beard…”
Gregor’s hand wrapped around a bar of iron. The cart shuddered as he heaved it. An ingot soared and collided with the commander’s body sending him plummeting through an entire row of tents. The march and sound of the camp slowed to a quiet stillness. Cass leaped up towards a soldier and knocked him over with the brunt of her bow. In her other hand, she held her own black ball. She extended it towards the flames of mounted torches. Gregor threw himself off the side and let his arm and blade fly before him. The unlucky surrounding guards were still stunned as they fell. Valente’s heart filled the silence as he pushed free from the cart and moved towards the same flame Cass had seen. A shout cut through.
“Intruders!”
Time and sound rushed forward as though to catch up. The soldiers in the camp all turned to the cart. Their hands reached for the nearest weapon. The horses threw themselves into a panic. Their drivers tried to whip them into submission as the beasts tore away from their control and into the surrounding camp. The first shout brought forth more of its kind as the call tumbled through the tents. As the carts began to chaotically split, the lead merchant whipped his horse forward as he and his cart bustled towards the gate. A distant bell rang. The other sounds softened. All Valente could hear was the bell’s toll. The sound clung in Valente’s mind. It resonated through him as he rushed towards the flame. Cass’s orb was quickly lit as she threw it into the sea of tents. The bell tolled. The sound pulled his mind all the way back to the Liosian market square. The image of a small man, his fluffy hat, the heavy message. Losing a king. Where everything had gone wrong. Valente looked to Gregor. The knight’s steps caused the earth to tremble underneath him. The steel of his blade swung in a crescent into an unfortunately close group of soldiers. Gregor stumbled towards the gate. The bell tolled echoing its call in Valente’s mind. His hands reached the fire as his firebombs burst into flame. The heat started as a tickled and twisted into an agonizing inferno. Valente threw as hard as he could grating his teeth through the effort. The black spheres inhaled the air they flew through letting their fire expand. The firebombs disappeared among the tents. Leaving a quickly growing trail of flame in their wake. A newly born blazing monster roared inside the camp. The bell rang out again testing Valente’s spirit. He ran towards the gate. The metal grid moved downwards. Bars of iron spilled out from the cart as the merchant cleared the bridge. Valente’s heart swelled forward. Cass drew an arrow and let her arrows fly into the oncoming guards. Gregor pushed forward on the other side of the camp making the Liosian troops appear nothing more than chaff. A soldier moved quickly behind the huntress. The bell rang again. Valente stretched out as he sprinted behind Cass. His foot moved out between the legs of the oncoming soldier delivering him to the ground. Valente did not waste the opportunity to inflict a swift kick to the side of the fallen man’s helmet as he ran over him. The bell tolled again. An organized group of soldiers stood between the burning tents with their crossbows raised. Gregor moved his blade in front of him to block what was the come. A cart cut into half of the cros
sbowmen, but the second half fired. The bolts dangerously peppered the cart behind Gregor. A few found their mark in his flesh. Gregor shouted as he rushed the closing gate. His old wounds and the new ones bled in unison. His blackened arm drooped despairingly at his side as he ran towards it. The bell rang. Cass let free more arrows into the tents and the soldiers, but their numbers seemed innumerous. Valente looked to the gate Gregor reached out to hold the metal up, but the heavy thud shattered his efforts as the gate shut. The bell rang. Cass shouted pointing to a catapult hidden behind the palisade wall. Gregor shouted back as he rushed through some recovering soldier in the siege weapon’s direction. Valente followed. His foot burned with pain as he ran. More bolts flew from the other side of the camp landing wildly among the spreading flames. Cass fired two more arrows at a pair of guards protecting the catapult. Slinging her bow back she pushed the catapult. Valente reached beside her. The weapon’s wheels sluggishly rolled. The bell rang. Gregor shouted behind them as he threw his blade into an advancing group. The blade laid itself to rest among the corpses. Gregor rammed into the catapult forcing the weapon into the wall. Cass jumped onto catapult and climbed it towards the top of the palisade. Gregor reached up and threw her higher upon the weapon. The knight’s blood dripped on the back of Valente’s neck. The giant held the catapult behind him. Gregor looked down and grabbed Valente by his side pushing him up the catapult. The bell rang. A bolt hit Gregor’s arm as he howled. He threw up his blackened arm against the catapult. He strained yet his arm did refused to aid him. Gregor swore and moved to the other side of the catapult. The bell rang.
Cass jumped onto the palisade as her hands reached desperately to the upper edge. Gregor grabbed her boot from and hoisted her upwards. The huntress sat on the wall as she reached her hand downwards. Gregor grabbed Valente’s boot and flung him beside Cass. The huntress grabbed his arm holding him from toppling back. Gregor reached out his arm towards the prince and the huntress. His black arm hampered his attempts to mount the catapult. The bell rang. A shout called out among the flames.
“Don’t let them escape!”
Valente and Cass quickly reached down for the knight. His left hand connected to theirs. The two pulled. The knight’s weight nearly toppled them from their perch. Flames to the north burned brightly against the palisade walls. The flame illuminated a larger contingent of crossbowmen. The bell tolled. Several loud clicks and twangs sounded in the dark. The whoosh of bolts found their way towards the three on the palisade. Several thumped into the wood beside them. Valente and Cass heaved once more the knight barely lifting from the ground as he tried to use his crippled armed to drag himself up. The knight quivered in pain and blood. His red beard mixed into a chaotic confusion of color. Gregor loosened his grip as he dropped to the base of the palisade. Cass and Valente desperately outstretched their hands. Gregor wiped his beard. The bell tolled. He looked up at the two and smiled. His eyes sparkled with an indisputable compassion.
“Go. I can’t get over this damn wall with this godsforsaken arm never mind trying to stay afloat in that current. Looks like we must burn another bridge.”
The bell rang.
The knight moved quickly and pushed Cass’s boot sending her off the wall onto the riverside. He reached up for Valente’s tightly gripping the prince’s foot. The knight’s grip shook and weakened. Valente looked down at the red-haired giant. A bolt sank deeply into the knights back. The bell tolled. Valente reached down and tightly gripped the knight’s hand around his foot. Gregor looked up continuing to smile as another bolt hit his blackened arm.
“Val, tell her.”
Valente’s hand was pushed aside as the knight lobbed the prince over the wall. A salvo of bolts flew towards the giant as his cheeks grew into an unmatchable hearty grin.
“Michael would have liked you.”
Valente fell. The bell rang.
The grassy bank smashed against his back. His gaze desperately searching for the palisade. Several bolts landed deep into the palisade causing the wooden wall to vibrate. Their sound broke through the chime of the bell. Cass pulled on Valente’s shirt. Valente turned to resist, but his will melted away. Cass’s eyes were full of tears as she dragged him towards the raging Araheil.
“He’s gone. We have to go.”
Valente let himself be dragged into the river. The cold sensation faintly burned with a vital familiarity forcing his body to swim out of instinct. The shouts called out from both sides of the river. Icy water clung at the prince and huntress trying to drag them down. The raging water dared to throw them away from the edge they desperately swam for. The water splashed around them. Metal bolts soared over the palisade and sank into the surrounding river. Cass struggled to stay afloat. Her bow chaotically bobbed on her back. Valente pushed himself forward securing the bow on her back. Cass looked behind. Her hazel eyes gleamed through damp, golden hair. The thankful shimmer of hope passed itself on to the prince. A small troop of Tharian soldiers watched on the other side of the river. A few of them walked towards the bank with very curious expressions at the two that paddled towards them. Another volley of deadly raindrops peppered the turbulent waters around them. Each splash nearer than the last. A bolt cut through the edge of Valente’s leg. A small crimson trail of blood lost itself in the swirling river. The bank was within a breath’s touch. The air whistled beside Valente’s ear. A bolt greedily sank into Valente’s forearm. Pain and blood rushed to his arm. The drag of the river pulled Valente away from the bank. His swimming stilted and uneven. Adrenaline surged through him as he dragged himself towards the bank through the water. Each stroke seemed to take him further away. The water clawed at his legs as it tore him from the surface. A sickly sinking feeling encompassed Valente’s body and stomach as he was swallowed in the depths. His arm rendered near useless as the angry bolt agonized his arm. Valente reached out treading the waters that refused to let him free. A hand clasped his own as it pulled him upwards. Cass tore Valente towards the bank and onto shore. The volley of arrows smashed against a handful of shields held up by Tharian border guards. A shout cried out from the Liosian side.
“Halt fire, we’re hitting Tharian soldiers.”
The bolts stopped their pursuing flight. The Tharians lowered their shields. Valente coughed some water as Cass pulled him to shore. The cool water hid his tears as he looked at the huntress.
“Thanks.”
Cass somberly nodded as the Tharian soldiers grabbed them both and pulled them towards the barricade.
The adrenaline quickly faded sending Valente’s mind in shambles. The guards dragged them through the Tharian camp. Valente was too numb to resist. A few stared at the prince in slow recognition. Shouts and orders bounced throughout the Tharian camp. Valente’s head bobbed lightly as he looked for the huntress. Beside him, she was also being led. She was faring much better than him with barely a scratch. A heavy toss launched Valente to the ground outside the flaps of a large tent. A man before him the Tharian emblem on his armor glowed in the torchlight. He leaned towards the knelt prince.
“These are the border jumpers? They nearly caused a diplomatic incident?”
The guards confirmed with a nod. The commander stepped forward. His stature demonstrated youth, yet his face had seen centuries of experience and scars. His neat blonde hair was cut back and groomed. His presence demanded notice and respect. The massive Tharian emblem helped. He grabbed Cass’s chin getting a better look at her face. Letting go he moved to the prince.
“Answer with nothing but the Seven’s sworn truth or you will regret it and we will send you back to those Liosians.”
The commander grabbed Valente’s chin and pulled his face upwards. Valente looked at the at him through his soaked bangs. The commander looked over his features. A small riddle of confusion ran along his brow as his look fell to Valente’s gaping arm. He released Valente’s chin.
“Get someone in here to patch this. I’ll not have him die before we figure out why they’re making such a commot
ion.”
A guard rushed from the front of the tent. The commander leaned down and looked into Valente’s eyes. The brown eyes searched the prince’s for some sort of truth.
“So, why are you here?”
Valente raised his head against the strain of his body as his composure rose from his chest. A pure focus emanated from his gaze. He had waited so long for this moment, yet now it was so burdened. His voice almost crumbled apart as he spoke.
“I am Prince Valente the First. Son of King Hamen and heir to the Tharian throne.”
Valente’s voice petered forward as the commander recoiled in surprise. Valente opened his mouth to say more, but the words evaporated and his mind violently spun. The prince tried to catch his breath, but his eyes shuttered close. Valente collapsed to the ground. His mind swirled into an oblivion. The commander stooped over his body. His hand pressed against Valente’s wound.
“Somebody get that damn medic!”
-23-
Heat sapped away from the prince’s mind. A cool strip of moisture rested against his forehead. A grizzled man wiped the sweat from the fevered prince. Valente squinted open his eyes. The light of morning burned against the tent’s canvas. Valente went to rise. His head spiraled and tilted like a ship caught in a storm. Nausea crept onto him. A heavy hand pushed him back down onto the cot.
“Watch it there sonny. You lost a lot of blood. The bolt hit you right in the artery. You’re lucky to be still kicking.”
The man grabbed Valente’s wrist applying pressure with his index and middle fingers. Valente looked towards the stranger. He was dressed in Tharian leather with an off-white band caked with blood around his arm. Cakes of blood patched his face. Valente cleared his dry throat and spoke in a rasp.