by H. M. Clarke
They loped quickly through the trees nimbly side stepping gnarled tree roots, fallen branches and other obstacles that the forest had cultivated.
At the head of the group, Tayme was the first to hear the loud crashing and cursing of several men ahead of them. Quickly holding up a hand, Tayme signaled to the Flyers who immediately stopped and crouched down between two large trees and peered ahead into the gloom.
Tayme could see nothing at first but the sounds of crashing footsteps and the occasional cursing told him that there were at least ten men coming in their direction.
‘At least they are men and not IceTigers,’ Tayme thought and turned to look back at his people.
His eyes widened in shock.
Behind them stood two men, sword points resting causally on the backs of both Jill and Treaer. The two Flyers dared not look back and had their hands raised above their heads where everyone could see them.
“Lieutenant, look what we have here.”
Suddenly the crashing and cursing stopped and Tayme watched as silent men stepped towards them through the trees.
The man who spoke was too lanky to get any of his clothes to sit properly and he had a thick mop of brown hair that tried to hide most of his face.
Tayme looked at the man standing next to him.
The man looked like he had been born for the military. He filled out his uniform well and had his black hair cropped short under the Lieutenant’s cap he wore. Tayme recognized the colors the officer wore at his neck. He was one of Vosloo’s men.
“Yes Hanton. But what, pray tell, are they doing here?”
The Lieutenant’s sword was lifted from Treaer’s back and quickly sheathed. The other sword disappeared with equal haste.
Tayme slowly rose to his feet. How had they come behind them so quietly? The other three Flyers were slow to follow suit but jumped up quickly after an angry hand movement from Tayme.
Tayme took a deep breath and then bent his back into a formal bow. The other Flyers did the same. A Freeman Officer had addressed them.
“I am Kral Kalar, Acting Wing Commander of Second Wing, First Flight. We saw camp smoke and have come to investigate.”
“What are you doing out this way in the first place?” Tayme heard the clinking on metal as the Lieutenant laid a relaxed hand about the hilt of his sword.
“Captain Vosloo sent us out searching for the Icetigers that have taken Kalena Kalar, our Wing Commander.”
Tayme stayed ducked in his bow as the Lieutenant stood silently in thought.
“We have also been sent on a search for Icetigers,” he said eventually. “But he was also searching for a woman. Do you know why your Wing Commander is so important to him?”
Tayme shook his head in reply.
“Pity. Well, stand up then, we can’t be doing this all day,” the Lieutenant said with a flick of his hand. “Talk to me as you would any man. We don’t need any of this bowing and scraping out here.”
The Flyers slowly released themselves from their bow and glanced uneasily about them.
“I am Lieutenant Dalon Peana.” Peana held his hand out to Tayme.
“I am Kral Tayme.” Tayme took the Lieutenant’s hand and shook it warmly. This mountain is a strange place to meet unexpected friends.
“Is the Captain here with you?” Tayme asked as he quickly looked at the faces around them and did not recognize anyone.
“He was last night but this morning he was gone. When we saw the Hatar approaching we thought he might have arranged for a pick up.”
“Do you mean he is missing?”
“I mean the man has disappeared without a trace from our camp,” the frustration in the Lieutenant’s voice struck a chord in Tayme. His brief experience with the Captain gave him the same feeling. The Lieutenant then told Tayme briefly about the events of the night before and of the Captain’s persistence that the Pydarki were involved in the attack. In his turn Tayme told Peana what happened the day of the attack and their fruitless search afterwards.
“Perhaps our parties should join forces, after all we are both out here for the same reasons. Combined we should both be able to find your Captain, our Wing Commander and those blasted IceTigers,” Tayme said as he finished his story.
“Sounds like a fine idea. Come back to our camp and we’ll organize arrangements over a hot breakfast.”
The Enemy Within
The Way to Freedom
Book 4
H.M. Clarke
Sentinel Publishing
CONTENTS
1
Who am I?
2
Asnar
3
Dearen
4
Hilltop Sunset
5
Patrol
6
Down by the River
7
The Mountain Pass
“The person who says something is impossible should not interrupt the person who is doing it.”
-Arranian Proverb
Chapter One
Who am I?
She felt rough hands pawing at her and then felt something sawing away at her leg straps. But she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. She tried to open her eyes but could not. It was as if her lashes were glued shut and the furious pounding in her temples made her give up the idea of opening her eyes all together.
Then strong arms lifted her from the saddle and she felt herself lowered gently to the ground where a fur blanket was wrapped about her.
Immediately she snuggled into it as she realized just how cold it was. Drifting to sleep, she could hear the frantic buzzing of voice messages flying around her mind. She could not quite hear them but she relaxed in her sleep knowing now that she was safe.
***
She awoke to complete darkness.
Around her she could feel the comforting tightness of fur blankets and under her head was the softness of a pillow.
She lay unmoving, just seeping in the comfort that was unusually being given her. But why unusually? She tried to remember why that thought came to her but could not.
Opening her mouth in a large yawn, she pushed herself up on her elbows and blinked sleepily as she tried to see in the darkness.
‘How are you feeling?’
She jumped at the sound of the male voice so close and slipped off of her elbows, collapsing onto the fur mattress. Sitting up fully this time, she glanced quickly about her to see who it was that spoke. Her eyes started to adjust to the gloom and could now make out the dark shapes of people sleeping around her. There was no snoring or other sleep induced noises, only soft regular breathing that can only be heard if you truly focused on it.
“Where are you?” She said softly as she peered into the darkness about her bed. The voice sounded as if it was spoken right into her ear. She raised her hands, that to her eyes, were only just discernible in the night time darkness and began to move them slowly around her to see if she could at least feel whoever it was that spoke.
‘I am right here.’
Something large and furry touched her on the shoulder and she quickly turned to look over her shoulder. An immense silhouette moved imperceptibly against the surrounding darkness, she could not make out any detail except that whoever it is carried a lot of bulk. She craned her neck up to look at what she thought was the man’s head. He was much taller than her as well.
“Who are you?” She could not remember ever hearing this voice before. As she tried to churn through her mind, she had trouble trying to remember the sound of any voice except her own.
‘Who am I? I am known as Ghrista.’
Ghrista’s shape loomed over her in the darkness as she moved herself slightly to get a better look at him.
‘And what is your name?’
She opened her mouth to answer but could not. She had her name on the tip of her tongue and now it was gone. Frowning, she looked down to the blankets as if something in the darkness might remind her.
“I am, umm… “ Turning t
o look at the shadow she tried again. “I am, umm… Blast it I can’t remember what my name is!” Her voice echoed around the room and she quickly put her hands to her mouth as she looked around to see if she had disturbed anyone. But the shapes about her slept on oblivious to their talk.
‘You took a bad knock to the head a few days ago. We have tended it to the best of our ability but you will need to see a physician to have it stitched up properly.’ Ghrista brushed a hand over her hair and it was then that she felt the tightness of the bandages around the crown of her head.
‘It looks as if you have lost a little of your memory as well. Can you remember anything at all about yourself?’
Her brow again frowned in concentration as she tried to dredge anything at all from her mind. But over and over she came up with nothing. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as the futility and frustration of the exercise suddenly struck her.
“I can’t remember a thing, a single thing before waking up a moment ago.” Her voice was so soft that she barely heard it herself. But Ghrista placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, the fur of it tickling at her neck.
‘Your memory might come back in time. Patience is all that is needed.’
“Do you really think so?” She latched onto the hope that Ghrista gave her. Not having any true memories except for this darkness made her wonder whether she was really here or the figment of someone else’s memory. Maybe she was a dream of Ghrista’s?
She shook her head several times to rid herself of these thoughts. She felt very much flesh and blood and poked herself in the chest with her forefinger to prove it. The flesh beneath the linen shirt was warm and very real.
‘Yes I do. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like. After you have recovered that is.’
“Does that mean that I don’t normally belong here?” A trickle of fear made her voice waver. She did not want to be left alone. An instinct within her made her feel that she had never been alone before and the thought of it now chilled her to the bone.
‘No. You are a stranger to us,’ Ghrista replied as he made himself comfortable again on his bed of furs.
She now saw Ghrista’s very long form as he stretched and then slipped back under his blankets. She looked at the dim shape of her own form under the blankets and saw that she lacked several feet when compared to Ghrista.
“But where did I come from? I mean, where did you find me?” She dearly wanted to know the answer to the first question but doubted that he would know it. If they did, would not they have taken her back to her own people?
‘Save these questions for the morning. For tonight both of us need rest.’ Ghrista then turned onto his side with his back to her and appeared to go to sleep.
She glanced around the sleeping bodies around her. There were fifteen in all when she included Ghrista and they all looked to be four feet taller than herself. She wished that there was more light so she could see her surrounds better. That will have to wait until the morning.
Nestling down into the furs, she drew the blankets back up around her to stop the cold creeping in. She touched a hand to her forehead and felt the bandage around her head holding a wadded cloth to her forehead. It was strange that she felt no pain from the injury. She felt there should be from the large amount of wadded cloth that was there. Perhaps she had been given a herbal while she slept? Perhaps she should just sleep on it and see what the morning will bring.
As she closed her eyes to sleep, she felt a gentle tugging that caught her unawares. It was a feeling that someone or something was looking for her, calling for her. A feeling that there was something just out of her reach and that if she only stretched her thoughts and embraced it, it would make her complete.
But she did not know how and as she thought on it sleep caught her.
Chapter Two
Asnar
She awoke the next morning to find herself alone. At least now she could see where she was.
Daylight filtered in through a tunnel entrance to light up the small cavern in which she had slept the night. The fur blankets that had been spread out for beds were now tied into neat rolls and stacked near the cave entrance and the stone floor was now clear of everything except herself and her blankets.
Yawning, she carefully checked the bandages around her head to make sure they were still in place. Satisfied that they were, she slowly stretched her arms and back before slipping out from her blankets. She wore a dusty linen shirt and brown leather trousers that looked as if they had seen better days. Stacked next to her bed was a pair of brown leather boots, a wool lined jacket and a belt with a sheathed knife. They obviously belonged to her but she could not remember ever wearing them.
Curious, she picked up the belt and carefully pulled the knife from its sheath and turned it slowly in her hand. It’s leather wrapped hilt sat easily in her grip and the pommel was plain and unadorned. Small nicks could be seen in the steel blade where they ran too deep to be filed away by a sharpening stone.
She suddenly caught her breath as an image of her hands doing just that came to her. She was sitting beside a small fire, the sharpening stone held in her left hand. Leaning forward she spat on the stone before rubbing the blade of the knife along its length. But that was all she could remember.
Heaving a sigh, she pushed it back into its sheath and buckled the belt around her waist. She then quickly pulled on her boots and got off of the blankets to tidy up her bedroll and place it along the wall with the others. Once that was done, she scooped up the jacket and made her way outside.
She had to stoop so she would not hit her head on the roof of the tunnel as she made her way through the dogleg to the exit. The smell of cooking filled the air and it reminded her stomach just how hungry it was.
Once outside she found herself in a large forest clearing surrounded by huge evergreen trees that spread up the foothill behind her that contained the sleeping cave. A small fire burned in the center of the clearing over which was a metal tripod with a small metal bowl hooked to it. The food smell was coming from that bowl. Around the fire sat several white fur clad bodies talking quietly among themselves.
“Good morning,” she said uncertainly to the group by the fire. “Which of you is Ghrista?”
The talking about the fire suddenly stopped and all heads turned in her direction. It was then that she realized that it was not fur coats they wore but their own skin. All of them had thick white shaggy fur broken by black and grey stripes. Their faces were broad and pointed and were brisling with whiskers struck through their muzzles, that flared and sunk every time they moved their upper lip. Rounded black tufted ears bobbed up and down as if their owners were unsure of what to do. Long tails swished back and forth in the grass and massive claws flexed from fur clad hands.
“Oh.”
She held out her hands to study them but she saw no sign of either fur or claws. Her hands then leapt to her face to feel her nose, cheeks and neck. All felt bare and smooth. She grabbed a shock of her hair and held it up where she could see it in the sunlight. It was jet back with not a trace of white. It was also too long.
Suddenly she heard a loud wheezing noise and looked up from the study of her hair to find the group around the fire shaking in what sounded oddly like laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded as one of the laughers stood up from the position by the fire.
“Come, sit by the fire and have something to eat. You must be starving.”
It was Ghrista. She smiled in relief. Now at least she knew what he looked like. As she sat crossed legged by the fire he handed her a small bowl (though to her it was a big bowl) of the meat gruel that was warming in the cook pot. She waited to be given a spoon but when none was forth coming she just used the bowl like a drinking cup and spooned the larger portions into her mouth with her fingers, taking care not to burn them.
Once she took the first bite all she could think of was getting more food inside of her. Her stomach grumbled and clenched and she felt li
ke she had not eaten in days, which was exactly what Ghrista told her last night.
Swiftly polishing off the first bowl, she handed it back to Ghrista for more and just as quickly he gave her another bowl full. She wolfed this one down just as quickly.
‘Thirsty?’ Ghrista asked as she handed back the empty bowl.
She nodded as she chewed the last chunk of meat and licked her fingers clean. She watched as Ghrista lifted a water skin from the ground beside him and filled the bowl she had just emptied with water. When he handed the bowl back, she could see globules of missed gravy floating on the surface. But the bowl was emptied in moments and she enjoyed the feel of the water sliding down her throat.
Ghrista held the skin up to refill the bowl but she waved it aside.
“Thank you but I am quite full.” She placed the bowl down beside her and rubbed her hands on her thighs to clean away the remains of her breakfast. She glanced around the clearing again noting the dark greens and browns of the evergreens and the occasional piping of woodland birds. The sun shining through the forest trees dappled the ground beneath and the soft breeze that rippled leaves and branches felt cool and refreshing on her face.
“Where are we?” She asked as a blue and brown songbird zipped passed her to land unseen in the forest’s soft green undergrowth.
‘We are in the foothills of The Mountains. This is our home.’
Ghrista’s mouth did not move a muscle but she was sure that it was him that spoke.
“Did you find me far from here?”
‘We ourselves did not find you but I was told that it was out on the flatlands.’
“But I thought…” She trailed off as Ghrista’s words truly sunk in. “Who did find me?”
