Koren, Bjorn and Thomas were assigned to be rearguard, with Koren’s arrows slowing the advance of the orcs. Whenever the trail straightened enough for a clear shot, an orc died, though Koren’s supply of arrows had dwindled rapidly.
“The bridge is intact!” Thomas exulted as the three ran around a boulder lodged into the side of the ravine, and they could see down the ravine to the rope bridge stretched across the fast-running stream.
“That’s not good,” Bjorn observed in a flash. “The bridge is fine. The problem is the approaches on both sides. Those orcs behind us can pour arrows down on anyone crossing that bridge, then there is no cover on the other side for a quarter mile or more,” he frowned. The near side of the ravine had rocks that had tumbled down, trees clinging stubbornly to the steep wall, and other opportunities for archers to shelter behind. “Once we cross, we will be exposed while the orcs here can take cover.”
“You see a choice?” Thomas demanded, irritated. He saw Bjorn was right, and he saw no option but speed.
“No. Let’s move,” Bjorn announced with a glance behind where orcs were warily poking their heads around the curve behind them.
The race became a rout. Orcs behind Koren lost their wariness after he shot his last arrow, and then they saw the arrow he menaced them with snapped in two when he pulled back the bowstring. Worse, the howling calls of the orcs behind them had attracted others, some of them trying to run through the forest on top of the ravine’s near wall. Orcs up there shot arrows down with poor aim and results given the distance and awkward angle, but enough of the distinctive, short arrows rained down that some found targets among the civilians, slowing Raddick’s anguished efforts to hurry them along. Seeing their arrows were having less effect than they wished, the orcs above the ravine began dislodging rocks, rocking them back and forth until they crashed down. Some of the rocks collided with other rocks on their way down, starting an avalanche that partly broke away and blocked the narrow shelf of the trail. One particularly large rock bounced its way down and just over Koren as he flattened himself on the trail, pebbles and fist-sized stones pelting him enough to draw blood from his scalp.
“We’re cut off!” Thomas groaned in alarm, halted by a pile of rocks blocking the trail ahead.
“No! We go over!” Bjorn slapped the soldier on the back and squeezed past him, scrambling over the loose rock. Stones skittered away under his feet and he nearly fell over the edge, having to launch himself in the air when the slipping debris became a cascade. Bjorn fell heavily on his belly, knocking the breath out of him and he crawled forward on hands and knees, ignoring his inability to breathe and the cuts inflicted to his palms and knees. After reaching a section of trail where the ledge was not covered by the rock slide, Bjorn paused to push his back against the ravine wall and gulp in air. “The two of you come,” he wheezed, “on!”
Thomas looked at Koren, the man’s eyes bulging with fear. He had watched Bjorn almost slide and fall to his death on the unstable pile of rocks that still partly blocked the trail. Then he looked behind them where orcs were warily shuffling around the curve and beginning to shoot arrows. The nearest orcs were still too far away for the short bows they carried to reach Thomas, but that happy situation would not last, and the orcs on top of the ravine above were rolling more stones down. They could not wait. Koren slung his now-useless longbow over his shoulder and pulled a length of rope from his belt, winding one end around a stone. “Bjorn! Catch it!” He tossed the stone, which arced through the air toward Bjorn but unfortunately it bounced off that man’s outstretched hands, bending back one of his fingers painfully and falling toward the raging stream far below.
“Trying again,” Koren announced while Thomas helped him haul the rope up. An orc arrow embedded itself in sand near Koren’s feet and he turned his head to see that arrow had come not from above but behind. They were running out of time, a fact Koren pushed out his mind as he again tossed the stone. Bjorn was ready and he caught it, not without a scare as he wobbled over the edge until his boot heels dug in and he fell back against the ravine wall.
“Got it!” Bjorn shouted, looking for something to tie the rope end around. There wasn’t anything, so he belayed it around his waist. “Come on, quickly!”
“You first, Thomas,” Koren urged.
“No, you are the wizard,” Thomas insisted.
“Yes, and that is why those orcs will stay back,” Koren replied as he belayed the rope around his waist with one hand while he raised the other hand menacingly above his head
“But you said you can’t-”
“The orcs don’t know that. Go.”
Thomas saw the sense in Koren’s argument. If Thomas stayed behind to belay the rope, the orcs would rush in, shoot him and then both he and Koren would fall. Without wasting time on talk, the soldier hung onto the rope with both hands, clambering over the dangerously loose rock. He immediately fell, his feet flying out from under him and not slowing his progress at all, for he continued on his knees despite the sharp stones cutting his pant legs and bloodying his knees. When he was close enough he reached out one hand for Bjorn, who grasped him solidly and pulled Thomas to crash into him, both men falling onto their backsides. It was painful and undignified and effective. “Koren!” Thomas called out to the boy unseen just beyond the pile of rocks. “Tie the rope around your waist, hurry!”
“I have a bit of a problem here,” Koren warned. It was more than a bit of a problem. While he had stood as still as possible to steady the rope for Thomas, orcs above and behind him launched arrows and Koren had been forced to dodge the projectiles as best he could. Two orcs in particular caused him concern. The first was a hunter, quite ordinary except for the distinctive row of crow’s beaks strung around his neck and the black paint covering the left side of his face. He remembered that orc as one who had been chasing Renhelm’s civilian refugees, the creature had been behind Koren when he destroyed the army across the meadow with fire. With an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Koren realized that orc knew he was the wizard who killed so many of the clan.
The second orc was a chieftain, wearing a helmet adorned with feathers and bones. The first orc pointed to Koren, gesturing to the chieftain as the two spoke in words Koren could not understand but the meaning was clear; the chieftain was being told that Koren was a wizard and would be a valuable prize if captured.
The problem became worse as the chieftain held the first orc back and ordered three others to drop their bows and advance toward Koren. Clearly, those three unlucky orcs had also heard Koren being described as an immensely powerful wizard. Perhaps the orc band did not entirely believe the unlikely tale of one young boy destroying an entire army, but they had no wish to test Koren’s power. Testing Koren’s power is exactly why the chieftain ordered them forward, and why that clan leader screamed at the reluctant three, waving his axe and screaming threats.
Without a single arrow in his quiver, and without the ability to conjure even the faintest glow of magical fire in his hand, all Koren could do was face the advancing orcs with one hand held high and try to appear haughtily confident and unafraid. For a second, it worked, then either the three orcs saw how badly his hand trembled or the threats from their chieftain overcame their fears, for they raced forward, arms raised to tackle him. “Hang on, I’m coming!” Koren cinched the knot tight and ran to belly-flop on the pile of rock, sliding down and over the edge to drop into empty space.
Bjorn and Thomas held onto the rope, to each other and to anything else they could grasp as they saw Koren fall. The rope jerked tight, pulling both men forward toward the edge and they experienced a moment of panic as one of Bjorn’s feet hung out in the air until they stopped sliding. “Pull me up?” Koren pleaded.
With the two men pulling hand over hand, and Koren helping by holding onto whatever came into reach, the three got the boy wizard over the edge to roll onto one side. “The rope’s too tight,” Koren gasped in pain as it dug into his ribs just under his armpits. Thomas
pulled out a knife and sliced through the rope.
“You all right?” Bjorn looked at where the rope had dug into his palms.
“Yes but we have a problem,” Koren picked up a stone and threw it to hit an orc who was attempting to crawl over the rock slide. With a cry, the orc rolled down and into the ravine, bouncing off the wall as it tumbled brokenly down toward the stream.
“That’ll teach them,” Thomas stuffed the knife back into his belt. “Good throw.”
“That orc was going to fall anyway,” Bjorn observed. He held out a hand and helped Koren to his feet. “What’s the problem?”
“Those orcs know I’m a wizard, and now they know I can’t use magic. I think their chieftain ordered them to capture me.”
Bjorn said a curse word and gestured Koren to squeeze past him on the narrow trail ledge. “Go on, then, move!”
As they ran, orcs above rained down more rocks, slowing their flight along the precarious ledge that was the trail. The last time Koren looked back to the pile of rock that had nearly caused him to fall, orcs were digging it out of the way, and a dozen orcs had already gotten past the obstacle. “They’re following us!” Koren warned and his companions barely bothered to glance behind them. Of course they assumed the orcs would pursue.
“Why aren’t they shooting at us?” Thomas asked, out of breath. The three could not move fast enough to actually be running, for the trail was littered with stones that had fallen down from above, and more rocks were tumbling down the steep canyon walls. But Koren noted that Thomas was right, the orcs above were shouting and howling and jeering but no longer firing arrows nor throwing rocks. It hardly mattered, for the creatures had dislodged enough loose stones from the ravine wall that they were falling on their own, the material flaking away and breaking loose.
“They’re not shooting, because they want to capture Koren,” Bjorn explained as he tripped on a stone that rolled right under his feet, throwing him to his knees to sprawl halfway over the edge. Without comment for there was no need, he picked himself up and continued onward, kicking more loose stones out of the way. A shower of pebbles from above pelted him and one fist-sized stone bounced off his shoulder. “Look out!”
Koren shielded his face with a hand as dust and pebbles rained down on him and he pressed himself against the ravine wall for cover. Behind Koren, Bjorn had crouched down on the trail, grunting as stones thumped off his back. Just ahead, Thomas stumbled as a section of the ledge gave way beneath his right foot and he looked upward for something to hold onto. Just as he lifted his eyes to search, a rock larger than his head hit him squarely in the chest and from one moment to the next he was gone, over the edge. Thomas fell silently, perhaps not even aware he had fallen.
Koren reached out instinctively. “No!”
“Koren you idiot, get back!” Bjorn ordered. “He’s gone, there’s nothing you can do.” The former Kng’s Guard risked a glance upward to see the landslide had spent itself and now only a cloud of dust was falling, then ahead to see whether more landslides would block their way forward. He could now see the near end of the rope bridge, with dwarves walking across one at a time rather than evenly spaced along its length, and four dwarves lined up waiting their turn to cross. The bridge was swaying more than it should, it must have been damaged and Bjorn hoped the flimsy structure would still span the ravine when he got there. In front of him along the trail, dust clouds from prior rock slides partly obscured the view. What- Bjorn noticed the dwarves on the near side of the bridge were panicking, pushing forward heedless of whether the bridge could hold them. Why were the dwarves-
What Bjorn saw made hope die in his heart. “Come with me!”
Raddick’s heart was in his throat as he helplessly watched three, then two figures running haltingly along the trail on the opposite side of the ravine, dodging rockslides and stumbling along the narrow ledge. One of the figures fell, tumbling and bouncing sickeningly all the way down to be swallowed up by the fast-moving stream and at first Raddick feared all was lost, until the remaining two figures came around an outcropping of rock and he could see one of them was Koren Bladewell, for the other two had worn leather vests. The person who fell was either Thomas or Bjorn, and Raddick was conflicted about who he hoped had survived. Thomas had served with Raddick for nearly eight years, while Bjorn had a steadying influence on the rash and untrained young wizard. “Lem!” Raddick called out to the man urging dwarves one at a time across the swaying rope bridge. “Make them hurry!” He ordered while scrambling down from the viewpoint above the trail on his side of the ravine. After being first across the damaged rope bridge, Raddick had climbed to better see along the ravine, and what he saw thoroughly discouraged him. He had nearly fallen twice just in climbing thirty feet up the steep ravine wall, there was no way to climb out to the lip of the ravine even though no orcs were at the top on his side. The trail on his side was a ledge cut into the wall, though this ledge was wider and more flat it also was totally exposed and a rockslide a quarter mile up the trail was a serious obstacle. Raddick had immediately put Anrid to work clearing the slide and the woman with three other dwarves were pulling fallen stones out of the way as quickly as they could, but it was not fast enough.
The bridge had naturally been built across the most narrow part of the ravine, where no more than thirty yards separated the east and west walls of the gorge. Arrows could reach from one side to the other and that was a problem for Raddick; he and his people had no more than two arrows each left and some had none. The long, nightmarish pursuit down the ravine trail had exhausted their supply of arrows and they had no materials nor time to make more. Lack of arrows had been the cause of Raddick’s current, most urgent dilemma. He had allowed Bjorn to persuade them that, with arrows running low and Koren their most accurate shot, those two should act as rear guard. Raddick had reluctantly agreed and at first remained behind to assure the safety of the young wizard, until he saw the deadly shots from Koren were forcing the orcs to stay far behind. The army captain had then raced on ahead to scout across the bridge, not liking what he saw. From his viewpoint above the trail, he had been first to see orcs were coming toward the bridge from both north and south! A second group of orcs was scampering along up the trail on the same side of the ravine as Koren and Bjorn, and with the trail ahead of them littered with fallen rock, they were moving far too slowly. Shouting and waving his arms, he tried to catch their attention, warning them of the orcs ahead of them!
“Koren,” Bjorn said as he waved one arm to acknowledge the army captain on the other side of the ravine.
“I see them,” the young wizard gasped, his legs feeling like lead while the two ran along the trail as fast as they dared. “We can make it.”
Bjorn did not know if that were true but there was nothing to do except run toward the bridge. The orcs coming up the trail now saw the two people running down the trail toward them and howled excitedly, redoubling their efforts. Without orcs above the canyon shooting arrows or rolling rocks down at them, it was a straight-up race, and Bjorn was again dismayed by how fast the awkward-looking legs of orcs could run. “Koren! Go ahead, don’t wait for me!”
“No! I won’t leave-”
“You fool! They want you, not me!”
“Oh.” Koren understood Bjorn was in danger mostly because he was near the wizard the orcs sought to capture, so without wasting breath on a reply he lifted his knees higher and raced ahead.
It was all for nothing. Koren reached the near end of the rope bridge before the orcs in front or behind him, but he couldn’t cross! Three dwarves had crowded onto the dangerously swaying span and the thick rope that formed the bottom strand had twisted, nearly flipping two of the dwarves over into the water far below. Raddick and everyone on the far side were screaming for the three dwarves to move however they could, and the one closest to the far side was pulling herself along by hanging onto the bottom rope. When she got within ten feet, other dwarves tossed a rope to her and she swung onto it, bloodying her
nose and not caring.
Bjorn arrived, red in the face and cursing in between breaths. “Go!” he shouted at Koren, actually kicking the boy in the seat of his pants to get him onto the bridge.
Koren gingerly walked four, six, then eight feet out onto the bridge, the rope sagging alarmingly, then he could go no farther. The bridge in front of him had twisted so badly there was no way to walk forward, he would have to hang on by his hands, dangling above the rushing water and sharp rocks that waited to smash him to bits. “Bjorn, come with me!”
“Too dangerous.”
“You think one more person will make a difference?” Koren asked incredulously. “The bridge will hold or it won’t! I’m not going across without you.”
Cursing the foolishness of youth, Bjorn shrugged off his pack to save weight and inched out onto the bridge on hands and knees, then wrapping his legs around the bottom strand. It was useless, they could not go forward while the two dwarves ahead of them were entangled in the ropes. From the far side, an over-strained rope snapped, whipping around and making the entire bridge bounce.
“I am never crossing a bridge again,” Koren vowed as he closed his eyes and hung on tightly as he could.
“We can’t go back now,” Bjorn stated the obvious. Orcs from both directions had stopped running at the orders of their chieftain, pointing their arrows at the dwarves huddled together on the far side of the ravine. Raddick and other soldiers had arrows fitted to their bowstrings, Bjorn noted not every soldier who carried a bow had an arrow. If it came to a fight, the far more numerous orcs would quickly slaughter the trapped people on the other side.
Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3) Page 32
