by Robert Day
An unheard signal must have passed from the lead wagon where Thorgast rode, both as leader and the first likely to encounter danger. With him rode Crael, Commander of the hundred soldiers from Thorhus. The wagon rumbled to a halt amid a jostling of hooves and nervous snorting. A fine cloud of dust caught them, but it merely slid off the fine layer that already covered everything on the wagon, including Kylaran.
Taking the opportunity, Kyle dropped stiffly from the wagon, feeling tight muscles and other areas almost sigh from the reprieve. He circled the wagon slowly, not only for the stretch but also for the opportunity to inspect the mechanics of the wagon. Already, they had been forced to take two days of rest while three wagons were repaired, a consequence of the rigors of the harsh roads here in the lands north of Korik. Everything seemed in order, though worn. The wide strips of leather around each wheel were worn and would need replacing soon, but if Thorgast was correct, they should be in Chul’Haka the following day.
He also inspected the bundle of bound spikes tied to the right side of the wagon. Twenty pointed spikes, twelve feet long, were strapped there on the command of Thorgast, duplicated on every second wagon in the line of twenty. This was in the event of attack, especially from Haruken. The wagons would form a wide circle and the spikes used to form a palisade against the longer reach of the four- armed creatures. There were not enough hired guards to use the whole two hundred spikes, but half the soldiers would assist while drivers kept control of mounts and wagons. The wagons not carrying spikes held barrels of precious water and sand, to be used to quench fires if the Haruken opted to launch a fiery assault.
On thought of the Haruken, Kyle reached for the haft of the axe at his waist. Though heavy, he had become accustomed to the daily weight and feel of the weapon and now wore it more easily. Thorgast had been giving him lessons in the use of the weapon of a night when not organizing food or sentries or plans in case of attack. Whether from growing friendship, necessity, or an obligation at being Valdieron's boyhood friend, Kyle was nonetheless grateful for the instruction. Although he held no false ideas at his prowess, what skill he had would keep him from cutting his own leg off, and maybe give an enemy pause.
Riders approaching from the head of the column brought him to the front of the wagon where he gave the horses a wide berth. He had handled horses while an apprentice in Shadowvale, but most of those had belonged to Garrik Ketherson, and therefore tame and pliant. Most of the mounts that pulled the wagons were not as tame, and were more inclined to take a snap at him or any other they sensed uncomfortable around them.
Thorgast and Crael rode alongside the wagons, pausing at each to speak briefly. The line of mounted soldiers at either side of the wagons drew erect in their saddles as their commander passed, though to Kyle it seemed the graying commander did not notice, or if he did, he showed no concern as the soldiers sank back to their ease as he passed. The heat was overbearing at the best of times, let alone at midday and burdened with padded leather and jerkins of plate and chain mail.
Crael and Thorgast drew rein before Kyle and his wagon where the driver, Arbell, sat with feet crossed under him and chewing a strip of leather as his hardened, sun cracked face watched the two riders casually. Kyle cursed the man's apparent ease of sitting, never stretching or showing signs of discomfort.
“The road divides ahead and flanks the main road.” Thorgast turned a large hand and motioned off to the left of the road where a thin track was barely visible to Kyle's gaze, as he was forced to shield his eyes from the sun's intense glare. The path twisted away as it flanked a rocky range stretching some miles north to south. “It moves through Jhaerren's Gap, and is less likely to be watched, but several places will provide excellent sites for an ambush, so keep an eye out. On three blasts, make haste forward. On four, hold up and make ready for battle, as we have planned. The pass should be wide enough for the wagons to circle.”
Kylaran did not have to ask if there would be a signal for retreat, because should the wagons and soldiers be forced into flight, they would be like lame rabbits in a bare field with hungry hawks circling overhead.
“Any word from the scouts?” asked Arbell hoarsely. Thorgast had several scouts in every direction on the lookout for signs of Haruken or other dangers. Twice they had proved valuable in providing warning against Hrolth and Haruken raids. Both times, their defenses were set to thwart both bands, which had numbered as many as forty and had been hoping to catch them off guard. The battle trained soldiers had defeated both bands with limited injuries, though Kyle did not have to look around to know that four horses already rode with no riders, who lay in shallow rock-covered graves by the roadside many leagues behind.
Thorgast shook his head while Crael answered. The veteran looked to Kyle as the sort of man who led by example rather than through hard words or strictness, though any laziness or lack of attentiveness he stamped down on instantly. He offered what was needed and usually nothing more, obviously content to listen rather than speak.
“There have been a few sightings of scattered Haruken, but nothing more. Even the pass appears bare, but there are a few caves and bores that can hide many men. While Thorgast says this is not the Haruken way, it is best to be cautious. I cannot see them allowing easy access to Chul’Haka if they are truly intent on laying siege to the city.”
This was one of the longest sentences Kyle had heard from the soldier, but there was an undertone of concern in his voice. Kyle guessed the reason for it was that if there was little indication of Haruken, there was a possibility they had already overtaken the Barbarian city and had no need of outer defenses. Conversely, there was the chance the Haruken had withdrawn, but such an outcome would be too much to hope for.
The two continued on down the column, spreading the new order and caution as Kyle regained his seat on the wagon. As he settled a rolled blanked beneath him in an attempt to dampen the firmness, a leather bound flask was pressed in front of him.
“A man shouldn't go into battle without a last drink, heh!” Arbell's drawl was as friendly as it ever got, still accompanied by a sour scowl. From experience, Kyle knew the man was not as sour as he appeared, as he had shared many conversations with the obviously uncomfortable Blacksmith.
Kyle took the flask with a nod of thanks. He had endeavored to learn what he could of this strange land, which a few months before had not existed for him beyond dreams and wandering thoughts. Now, he expected knowledge could be a useful and important ally. The liquid tasted of honey, but this was a ruse as a fire began to build in his throat and lungs as air forced itself in. Still, he had fared worse the first time he had taken a mouthful, and handed the flask back to Arbell who was sharing a mouth twisting smile with himself, obviously at Kyle's reaction.
Kyle pretended not to see it as he straightened, turning to glance back at the distant figures of Crael and Thorgast to hide his slightly flushed face.
When they got under way again, the line drifted left onto the new trail, and much to Kyle's chagrin, this new trail appeared twice as bad as any they had travelled already. Steeling his bottom against the bumping, he focused on the trail, wondering if the drink Arbell gave him would provide a buffer against added discomfort.
It didn't. Many twists later and with the pounding sun slowly descending in the west, the only comfort seemed to be that the gap unfolding before them would provide shelter from the sun's rays, if not from the stifling heat.
Ever watchful, Kyle was glad for the presence of the low peaks, which would provide protection from sightings from the east, but anything to the west would likely have little trouble spotting them until they entered the gap, which dropped between fifty feet walls of smooth stone. The wagons were pressing the limits of their pace along this rough road, obviously to offer less chance of being spotted, but this only served to jostle Kyle around even more.
Not only did the sun fall behind the wall of stone, but also a faint breeze seemed to stir through the gap, offering a little coolness, but not enough to
stop Kyle from sweating. The veil he wore constantly was soaked to its limit, but he could not shift to drain it without jostling himself more, and he needed both hands to grip the seat.
Their pace did not falter through the gap, which became even more bumpy and corrugated, probably caused by water being washed down the gap on the rare occasion that it did rain heavily. On closer inspection, the walls were jagged and crossed with ledges and fissures, which ran back as far as twenty feet and widened from barely a hand's breadth up to two or three paces.
The feeling of age and history struck at Kyle as the path rose sharply, then leveled and the walls widened slightly, though only in such a way as the walls curved together overhead like a dome. A hundred paces across and twice again in length, the line of wagons fit in the area easily.
“Jhaerren's gap!” indicated Arbell with barely a glance around him as he guided the two horses. His dry voice barely carried over the pounding of their forced travel, but Kyle had guessed as much anyhow.
Suddenly, a horn's ringing blast carried over the din, catching Kyle by surprise as his heart missed a beat and his stomach churned with fear. There was only one reason for the call, with only two possibilities.
The third blast was the last and reverberated through Kyle's senses like a death chant. Whatever threat there was required haste. The wagon lurched under him as Arbell whipped the horses to greater speed with a flick of his wrist and a cracking 'hyahh!'
Suddenly there were Haruken everywhere as the first of the wagons reached the far edge of the gap, greeted by a line of the hulking, four armed humanoids. Before them, a wedge of mounted soldiers rode, short lances tucked underarm and held low, crouched and leant forward in the saddle as steel tipped weapons met armored enemies. Screams of pain mingled with cries from horses and yelling calls from soldiers, muffled by the pounding of hooves and the rolling wagons.
Axe somehow in hand, Kyle watched anxiously as Haruken and Hrolth poured from holes and gaps barely visible in the shade of the gap. He tried to estimate numbers but could not as the steady flow of dark figures poured towards them. It was obvious they outnumbered soldiers and wagoners, which meant they had to get through the gap or be overrun. For Thorgast to order a charge, the numbers ahead had to be few enough to allow them escape. He hoped.
The line of soldiers was the first to clash with the charging creatures, using hit and run tactics with longer lances rather than slowing to employ swords. Horses and men screamed along with Haruken and Hrolth alike, as bodies crashed together and fell. Creatures broke through, however, striving to reach the wagons drawn by frantic horses.
A crashing behind caught Kyle's attention and he turned sharply as much as his one handed grip would allow. He barely caught a wagon tumbling to a halt amid a flying spray of dirt, timber and weapons. A figure disappeared among the cloud, descending from being tossed as dark figures rushed in, obviously intent on finishing off any survivors.
A sharp crack brought Kyle's attention back as the wagon lurched under him. Off to the side he saw a spraying of splintered wood and knew what had happened as the seat seemed to fall away from him. He lost his grip momentarily, then regained it but was thrown as the wagon's splintered axle dug into the ground. Horses screamed and leather snapped as the wagon spun and flipped. Kyle was flung aside, and did not know if it was from the wagon's lurching or Arbell, but he struck the ground hard and flat, rolling as his left side hit first. His axe was lost as he felt arms and legs flail against the impact.
Reeling, he came to a halt amid a cloud of dust. His whole body seemed aflame, and he did not have to look to know his body was covered with abrasions and grazes. He jerked upright and began to rise, and although unsteady and shaking from shock and pain, he was otherwise unhurt. He had no time to marvel at this miracle as dark figures began to close around him.
A desperate search discovered his axe lying nearby, along with a scattering of other weapons from the shattered wagon that was upturned ten paces away. Both horses were down, though one struggled painfully to rise, cut and bleeding and half covered by the wagon. Arbell was also lying nearby, but from the angle of his head and back, there was little doubt as to his state.
Anger clutched at him as he scrambled for his axe, while wagons and horses dashed past. If anybody saw him, there was no indication because nobody stopped. The agreement was that anybody left behind could not be stopped for, thus imperiling more men and supplies. This had applied even to Thorgast and Crael.
Snatching up his axe, Kyle had barely a moment to rise and take in his surroundings before a dark figure loomed before him. A great club arced towards him, and he recognized the brutish face of a Hrolth, twisted in rage and mid war-cry.
His strength saved him more than his skill as he raised his axe, taking the club on the long haft. Still, the creature's strength nearly tore the axe from his grasp, but he kept hold and twisted his arms violently as rage and anger infused him. The Hrolth was spun wide, open and off balance, and with a heave that was more of an accentuated hammer blow he had performed thousands of times, he arced the axe in an overhead chop, slicing into the Hrolth through the shoulder with a sickly thud. Flesh parted and bone snapped with a spraying of blood, as the momentum dropped the dying Hrolth with a scream, tearing the moon blade of his axe free.
With a defiant roar, he turned to face a second creature, this one Haruken. He would not have guessed the humanoid an enemy except for the hate filled features and weapons braced for attack, as its long legs carried it forward at a charge. It held a long spear in three hands and an elongated hide covered shield in its fourth.
Kyle was leaping for it even as it crashed into him. Whether his impractical attack surprised the creature or he did something right he did not know, as his axe descended again. A searing pain erupted from his thigh, but did not deter his raging attack. Blurred eyes did not see more than the dark figure as his axe struck something; maybe shield from the sound, but its path was merely deflected before he felt it strike again, this time crunching into flesh. He was falling then as the larger creature struck him. They tumbled, and he flailed against arms and hands that clutched at him, but as he pried the Haruken off him, he realized it was not moving, his axe embedded in its chest.
Gagging at the warm spray of blood that covered his face, he wiped at it with the back of his hand, though it did no good. He kicked the dead creature's legs from him and rose before bending over to jerk his axe free. He averted his eyes from the rent wound, though he could not douse the sound of blade pulling free of blood soaked bone and flesh.
Perhaps luckily, the battle had faded from around him. Several bodies littered the area, some horse and Soldier, others Haruken and Hrolth. Several knots of fighting were taking place, one wagon behind being overtaken by dark creatures while single or small groups of cavalry fought desperately to break through thick rings of enemies. Somehow, he had not been spotted, but how long that would last was obviously limited. Even as he watched, the wagon was overrun, a limp body tossed from the masses, torn and bloodied. Another human head was raised above them on a spear, blood streaked and pale from loss of blood that slicked the spear, features torn into a rictus grin that sickened Kyle.
His only chance of survival seemed to lie in escaping the gap. There were narrow paths between knots of fighting, but any one of them could close quickly if spotted, leaving him little option but fight. To fight would be to die, so he chose a route past the ruins of the wagon he was riding in, hoping it would cover him somewhat.
By some ill fated chance, he was spotted almost instantly. Howls and cries erupted, luckily from behind him at first. He had never been a great runner, nowhere as fast as Valdieron or some of the other smaller boys, but desperation and fear gave him some assistance as he dashed for the wall.
The Hrolth could not match his pace, and even the flanking ones fell behind him, but the Haruken began to close ground. He knew it would be touch and go to make the wall, but he grit his teeth and fought his limits to glean every inch
of speed.
The dark stone wall loomed before him, split by a shallow fissure, two feet wide and barely an arm's length higher than his head. There was a larger opening along further, but there was no time to reach it. Hoping the fissure did not end three paces in and at the mercy of the Haruken a step behind him, he darted through the opening.
Something clanged off the stone behind him and he felt chips of stone scrape at the back of his neck. He almost sank in anguish as the fissure narrowed and seemed to end, but it only twisted off to the right. He felt something graze his calf before a wooden shaft rattled against the stone at his feet, and he almost tripped on it as he dodged into the twisted passage.
Darkness clutched at him, cold and mysterious, but it was preferable to what he left behind. He took several shuffled paces into the dimness where light faded quickly, before drawing to a halt against rough stone. He could see little more than a dark wall, but he was already turning to gaze back at the entry.
The distant sounds of battle seemed to be retreating, but harsh voices and cries came from outside the fissure. Clinking of metal against stone indicated at least one of the armored Hrolth was squeezing through the fissure, probably prodded by the Haruken. Looming shadows gave way to movement as a bestial Hrolth turned the corner, curved weapon clutched before it. Obviously the creature was less than enthused to be in this predicament, and he wondered if both Haruken and Hrolth were not comfortable with dark, confined places. Still, the obvious threat of returning without something made the creature press forward, and Kyle gripped his weapon before him. There was no room for swinging his axe, so the thrusting sword would be more suited to the confines, but he had no other choice.
