by R J Hanson
Arrows flew past them, some falling short and others flying wide or high. On occasion a spear thrown by an ogre would cut the air near them. Roland reached for the nets to throw in the path of those pursuing him, however, he had apparently lost them somewhere along the way.
Kodii could match Roland in endurance and he was even more quick. However, the length of his stride fell far short of Roland’s and Kodii was not accustomed to running while wearing so many hides and a cloak. Kodii began to fall behind. Roland slowed a bit, refusing to leave Kodii alone in this place so far from his home.
Roland eyed the mountain peaks to his right; the landmarks he had been told to watch for. They were hazy in the thick winter air. As he was marking them with his eye, he heard the sound of a heavy spear striking flesh. He turned in time to see an ogre’s spear driving Kodii to the ground.
The spear had struck him in the shoulder with such force that it drove him to the grass. Kodii’s own spears were flung from his hands as he slapped into the hard surface of the plains; the air driven from his lungs.
Without a second thought Roland spun about and sprinted for Kodii. He called upon the speed of Swift Blood once again and in a few quick strides was next to him. With no time for finesse, Roland jerked the spear from Kodii’s shoulder and scooped him off the ground. As he rose an arrow pierced the magical field his helmet created over his eyes. The arrowhead tore a gash in his left eyebrow and struck his skull firmly.
Fortunately, the range was so great that the impact was not enough to pierce or even fracture the bone. However, blood began to fill Roland’s left eye. He turned again bound for the south with Kodii over his shoulder. His pursuers were much closer now and gaining on him every minute.
Roland called on the magic of his sword again, but somehow knew instinctively the reservoir of power the artifact possessed was running dry. His speed astonished those chasing him, however, it did not dissuade them. On they came.
Two more arrows sailed past him just as a third found its way just to the side of his breastplate and lodged in the meat of his right shoulder. The next swing of his arm, a companion movement to his running legs, broke the arrow off but drove the arrowhead into a trench of agony in his shoulder.
Roland nearly lost his footing and fell when he came upon a gully hidden by the rolling illusion of the fields of grass. One great leap carried him across, and he pressed up the other side.
He knew he had to be getting close to the place where the archers and pikemen were prepared. He had to be because, if he wasn’t, he and Kodii would die in these fields of grass. He perceived a blue glow of sorts to his left, but the blood in that eye made it impossible to make out.
“Make for the ogres!” Ungar cried. “I’ll jump one of them and you go back for the brown one!”
Ungar and Eldryn could see that Roland was carrying Kodii and both whispered a prayer for him. Eldryn spurred Lance Chaser on. He wasn’t sure about Ungar’s plan, but it was at least more reasonable than most of Roland’s. He rode wide and circled to cut across the paths of the large creatures. Eldryn spotted the gully barely in time. He drew in his knees; up and toward the bow of the saddle. Lance Chaser, taking the cue, leapt the wash with little effort. As they approached, Ungar stood war hammer in hand, and leapt from behind him directly at the largest of the ogres.
Ungar had grossly underestimated his velocity. His plan was to leap from Lance Chaser, strike the ogre high with his hammer, land tumbling, roll to the next foe, and strike him with the hammer as well. That is not what happened.
Ungar flew through the air like a plate mail clad stone hurled from a catapult. He crashed unceremoniously into an ogre; crushing the ogre’s ribs in on its lungs and breaking his own sturdy dwarven arm. The tangle of ogre and dwarf was forced onward by Ungar’s momentum and took two riders to the ground with them. One of those riders was crushed by his horse, the other was crushed by the ogre’s flailing weapon.
Eldryn’s lance missed its mark on his ogre’s chest striking it instead in the shoulder as the creature turned toward him. The ogre raised his club to strike, but he was far too slow. Eldryn’s lance tip separated muscle and bone. As he rode past the ogre’s arm fell to the ground, its club still gripped by a hand that would no longer heed its master’s call.
Eldryn turned Lance Chaser on a tight arc, however, at that speed, it still took several acres for him to turn around. On his ride back through it looked as though Ungar had given those pursuing Roland quite a fit. That whole area was in turmoil. Eldryn charged through the group on foot who attempted to raise swords and pikes against his advance. Their preparations were poor at best. Eldryn thundered through them, Lance Chaser trampling two as he passed. Eldryn sped past them, and past the tangle Ungar had created, and reined in his mount at Roland’s side.
No words were exchanged for these two had grown together, traveled together, and bled together. No words were needed. Roland hoisted Kodii over the bow of Eldryn’s saddle. Eldryn nodded and pressed Lance Chaser with his knees. The war horse leap and hit the ground running. Eldryn didn’t want to think about the blood he saw on Roland’s face.
Ungar regained his footing several yards from the ogre he had crashed into. He heard horses in great distress somewhere nearby and men cursing. He was in danger. He was too far from this pack of raiders making it easy for them to mark him as a target and focus their anger on him alone. As he tried to take up his war hammer a jolt of pain charged up the nerves in his left arm and crashed into his brain. He thought he was in danger before; now his chances seemed bleak indeed.
Roland rose and took one more look to the north before resuming his run south. That look stopped him. He saw Ungar, one arm hanging at an ugly angle at his side, facing off with the six remaining ogres, two riders, and eight of the footmen closing on them quickly. Roland’s heart sank when he thought of their chances, until he heard the roll of thunder from the mountains again.
Roland sprinted back toward Ungar, holding nothing back. Carrying Swift Blood in his left hand and drawing a dagger with his right. His first throw struck an ogre in the ear, felling him. His second dagger took an ogre in the shoulder. It was only a distraction to the large creature, but it would be one less ogre focused on a wounded Ungar.
“Ungar!” Roland called. “Run! Run to me!”
Roland’s speed and stride allowed him to easily clear the gully as he sprinted toward Ungar and the pack he faced.
Eldryn rode hard for the main camp. He hadn’t taken time to assess Kodii’s wound but it was obvious he was losing a great deal of blood. He rode wide of the ambush point so as to avoid alerting Roland’s pursuers.
“Priest!” Eldryn called as he entered the camp.
Eldryn rolled Kodii off his saddle into the arms of two soldiers that ran up to assist.
“Get him to a priest or a healer,” Eldryn directed. “I must get back.”
With that he turned Lance Chaser and sped off once again; Kodii’s blood dark upon his saddle.
Ungar charged at the group of ogres, ducking into a roll just as the first of their clubs swept out at him. The large club just missed him, but he crashed into the creature’s inner leg with his bad arm. The pain nearly stole his consciousness. Ungar staggered under the ogre shaking his head violently. He tried to quick step away but only managed to stumble forward a few feet. The ogre side stepped and kicked Ungar hard, launching him into the air.
The two riders saw Roland returning and spurred their horses toward him. They were followed closely by an ogre who sported one of Roland’s dagger’s in its shoulder. The first rider wrapped his arm around a lance and bore down on Roland. Without slowing, Roland struck out with his heavy Shrou-Hayn and parried the lance downward. Then Roland drove his forward foot out, bringing him to a sudden stop. The blade of Swift Blood, driven by Roland’s uncommon strength, forced the lance point downward. Roland, using a circle parry maneuver that, to his knowledge, had never been tried against a mounted opponent, and pushed the lance tip even farther
down. Roland quick-stepped back as the lance stabbed hard into the ground.
The rider, clearly having never been trained by a cavalier, was hurled by the makeshift pole vault out of the saddle and high into the air. The arrow wound in Roland’s arm screamed at him as he hauled the heavy sword up again just barely in time to slap away the second rider’s sword.
Now Roland faced the ogre. Roland canted his head to the side for he was now completely blind on his left side. He pushed the pain in his right shoulder far away so that its screams came to him like those of a man dropped into a deep well. He hauled Swift Blood high into the air and then saw something that halted all thought.
Roland looked past the ogre in complete confusion. The ogre, also confused, turned to look behind him. He turned just in time to see Ungar on his decent. The ogre that kicked him into the air had done a poor job of aiming. Ungar crashed into the stunned expression on the ogre’s face mashing his nose flat and gauging out one eye. Blood poured from the creature’s nose while its eye rolled back and forth like a pendulum; occasionally striking his cheek. Blood sprayed in a thick mist as it flowed into the ogre’s mouth only to be propelled on the hot breath of his screams.
Ungar bounced off the ogre’s head and slammed into the brown grass of winter just to Roland’s side. Wasting no time, Roland grabbed Ungar by the back of his weapon’s belt and turned for the gully. Two quick strides took him just out of reach of the ogres that chased Ungar. Roland sprinted for the gully. To his credit, there were no thoughts of cowardice; only concern for his friend.
A hastily thrown spear struck Roland’s armor near his shoulder wound. The impact brought new life to that pain. A second spear struck the ground just as Roland’s head passed beneath the surface as he dropped into the wash. The remaining rider, along with two of the ogres, cocked his head to the side confused at the sudden disappearance of their quarry. As they approached, they discovered the hidden gully and saw Roland running east along it. They pursued.
Now Roland was running. He knew Ungar was bleeding but had no time to check his wounds. He could hear Ungar’s breath coming in rasps, but he was breathing. He could also hear Daeriv’s troops behind him. They were down in the gully now and catching up.
Eldryn made his next pass but only saw eleven men on foot collecting supplies from fallen horses. It hurt his heart to see any horse injured and he could tell at a glance that these mounts had made their last charge. He lowered his lance and pointed Lance Chaser at one of the men, a fellow dressed in chain mail and cloaked with a black bear skin. This one appeared to be giving orders to the others.
“Defend yourself!” Eldryn called, for the raider he had selected with his eye had yet to notice him.
Eldryn’s chosen target still had not turned, for Lance Chaser’s magical speed had provided no time for response. Eldryn raised his lance and charged past, riding out wide in order to circle back. It would have been bad enough in the eyes of the Cavalier’s Code to engage an opponent who was not mounted. It would have been pure cowardice to also strike him in the back.
Eldryn didn’t see Roland or Ungar anywhere, and that worried him. He reined Lance Chaser around and started back toward the group of men gathered near the fallen horses. They had all taken up pikes or spears now. Now his conscience, his Code, freed him to engage. Eldryn lowered his lance.
The one in the black bear skin cloak stepped forward of the rest, spear in hand. In the last moment he took the spear up and threw it at Eldryn, hoping to strike him from the back of his mount. The throw was good, but the spear shattered none the less on Eldryn’s fine shield. Having no other course, Eldryn raised his lance toward the line of other men. Eldryn squeezed his knees together again and Lance Chaser leapt.
Lance Chaser’s front hooves, not quite clearing the nearest foe, struck the man in the bear skin cloak in the head. He did however clear the pikes of those in the defensive line. Eldryn’s lance passed just over one of the pikes to strike its wielder squarely in the chest. His lance stuck firmly in the downed foe; Eldryn released it with the practiced ease of an experienced jouster.
Eldryn began to draw his shrou-sheld and spotted an ogre disappearing behind the roll of grass into a ravine. Lance Chaser was on the creature too quickly for Eldryn and the pair leapt over the ogre, and the gully, with ease. Eldryn could hear a roar that his mind found somehow familiar and for some reason called feelings of dread to the surface. However, he was still unsure of exactly what it could be. He rode on past the gully and began to turn Lance Chaser on another tight arc.
As they turned, Lance Chaser slowed considerably. Eldryn knew that all magic had its limits. He had just reached the limit of his gifted horseshoes.
Roland heard Ungar’s rough breathing, he heard the hoof beats of the remaining rider closing on him, and he began to hear the roaring he had hoped for. He prayed that his timing was correct for he knew it would have to be precise.
Roland now faced a choice. Leaping to his right, south of the wash, would put him on the side of the main camp where aid for Ungar could be found. Jumping to the left, north of the wash, would put him on the side of Daeriv’s remaining troops. Prince Ralston needed the information those troops could likely provide. Remembering Othlynn, Roland made his decision.
Roland leapt blindly, for blood still filled his left eye, for the rim of the wash on his left side. He felt something strike him from behind and then he hit the ground hard and winced as he heard the broken bones in Ungar’s arm grind together. Roland rolled up to one knee, Swift Blood in hand, to face his pursuers. As he rolled, he felt something tear through his guts and steal his strength. Whatever it was, it passed. Now he looked to the gully. One of the ogres, who had been carrying a spear not long ago, was empty handed now and began pulling a large club from its side. Just as they caught up to him the flash flood caught up to them.
Five ogres, one of them missing an eye, were surged forward by the momentum of the rushing waters. They were quickly swept into the remaining rider and the tangle of the group washed rapidly to the east and toward the ocean. The ocean was leagues away. Roland wondered for a moment if they would be carried that far. He wondered if they would survive the journey. Then he realized he really didn’t care either way.
Roland pulled Ungar farther from the rushing waters. As he was looking over Ungar’s wounds, he heard the sound of hoof beats approaching.
“How bad is he hurt?” Eldryn called from the south side of the water that separated them.
“Arm’s broken,” Roland said. “Probably some broken ribs too.” Roland jerked his head to the north and said, “how many back there for me to deal with?”
“Nine, I think,” Eldryn said as he followed Roland’s gaze. “If there are eleven standing then I can tell you that two of them are severely wounded. There are two ogres as well, but they will be dead soon. They both are bleeding to death; one from a severed arm and the other from some internal injury. How about you? I saw the blood under your helmet.”
Roland unfastened his chin strap and slowly removed his helm. Eldryn knew that head wounds bleed badly, but the sight of Roland’s face still worried him. There was a lot of blood and Roland’s skin looked pale. Roland traced his fingers over his left eye with a delicacy only matched by a practiced thief manipulating a tripwire.
He was relieved to feel his eye still there and to discover the only torn flesh was in the tangle of his eyebrow. Now he ran his hand to his right shoulder. The brush of his fingertips over the protruding arrow shaft brought that beast of a wound to life. The sudden geyser of pain washed through him and he had to hold his breath to keep from crying out.
“Nothing life threatening,” Roland said after a few moments of gathering his self-control. “I’m going to get a fire started here for Ungar. I’ll try to set him up to ease his breathing. Then I’ll go back and bring the rest of Daeriv’s men here. Ride back and get a priest and a few men and I’ll meet you here.”
“You’re going to go get them alone with a right arm
that’s useless?” Eldryn asked.
“Othlynn is still out there,” Roland said. “He’s probably already got them captured.”
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Eldryn said. “Leave those remaining to Othlynn. Stay here with Ungar. Even if Daeriv’s men didn’t find Ungar here alone; the wolves might. I’ll be back with help in a few hours.”
When Roland made the decision to jump for the north side of the gully, he was confident he had enough sand in him still to handle the stragglers of Daeriv’s patrol. Now… now he was tired. What Roland said next nearly knocked Eldryn from the saddle.
“That makes good sense,” Roland said, feeling exhausted and weak. “I’ll make the fire big enough for Othlynn to find.”
Eldryn, who was already preparing his second argument, fell silent. He wasn’t sure what to make of Roland so readily agreeing with him. Eldryn opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say. Then, with a shake of his head, Eldryn turned Lance Chaser back to the south and rode for Prince Ralston’s camp.
Roland pulled off his armor and stacked it so he could prop Ungar up and on his side. He didn’t know enough to diagnose what Ungar’s injuries might be, but he did know that a man, or a dwarf for that matter, could drown in his own blood. He noticed that his own undercoat was very wet and assumed it was from the flash flood they had narrowly escaped.
The bleeding at Roland’s brow and from his shoulder had stopped. As long as he didn’t move too much, they hopefully wouldn’t reopen.
Roland then began gathering whatever dead grasses and weeds he could find. He also kept an eye out for animal droppings, knowing that fresh manure would be of no use to him but dried manure would burn as well as hard wood. There was no wood to be found nearby but, animals would frequent this area for the water that he assumed usually pooled in the low places of the gully.
His hopes for a large fire met with disappointment, however, he did find enough dried manure to build a bucket full of fire. Now to get it started.
