Trail of the Gods ms-4

by Brian S. Pratt

  The morning dawns sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Jiron wakes to find Aleya already having killed their morning breakfast and can smell it from where it’s roasting on the fire.

  “Good morning,” she says when she notices him sitting up.

  “You too,” he replies. Nodding to James, he asks, “How’s he doing?”

  “Still sleeping,” she tells him. “He hasn’t awoken yet. Is that normal?”

  Shrugging, he says, “I really wouldn’t know. But there have been times when he didn’t wake for awhile. Once he took almost two days to come out of it.” Seeing her concern, he adds, “But we’ll not wait that long. If he’s not up by noon, I plan to wake him up. As you said last night, there could be more forces on the way.”

  “I was thinking about that last night,” she says. “If they would’ve sent a rider to warn the forces by the fortress back when we first entered the mountains, then it’s possible they could’ve gotten to them in time to send the crossbowmen up here to block off our escape route.”

  Nodding, he replies, “That would make sense. It did seem kind of odd that we weren’t pressed very hard in the mountains. They knew where we were going, or at least had a good idea, so they didn’t want us to move too quickly and reach here before their forces could get into position to greet us.”

  “So that would mean,” she says, “whatever forces are near Kern, will be waiting for us.” After a moment, adds, “If they’re not already on their way.”

  Nodding, Jiron gets up and says to her, “I’m going to check down the trail, just in case. Keep an eye on him, okay?”

  “Sure,” she replies. She takes out what was left over from the rabbit last night and begins eating. She plans on saving what’s cooking over the fire for James when he wakes up. As she eats, she watches Jiron disappear down the trail into the forest. She thinks about the turn her life has taken the last few days. Glancing at James, she wonders what she’s gotten into and where it may lead her.

  Once she’s done eating, she begins hunting through the woods for sticks just the right length. If one meets her needs, she picks it up and continues in her search for more until she has a dozen.

  Returning back to camp, she takes her pack, along with the sticks, and settles down on a fallen log close enough to keep James in sight. Using her knife, she carefully carves off all excess protrusions and evens the stick out. If one is too long for her needs, she trims it with her knife until it’s absolutely perfect.

  Two of the sticks have to be discarded after discovering flaws while she was trimming them. When the remaining ten sticks are arrayed next to her, she reaches into her backpack and pulls out a neatly rolled up envelope of leather. Unrolling it, she examines the feathers she acquired days before James and Jiron arrived. She already has them separated into sets of three, each set of exact length, breadth, and width.

  She takes one set from within the envelope and sets them on the log next to her before picking up the first of the ten sticks. Using her knife carefully, she cuts slits into the wood at one end and slowly and meticulously inserts the feathers into the slits. Once all three feathers are embedded securely within the wood, she sets it down and picks up the next stick, repeating the process. One after another, she continues until all ten sticks are fledged.

  Before rolling the envelope back up, she checks the remaining feathers and sees she has enough for a little over a dozen more arrows. Going to have to hunt for more soon.

  Placing the rolled up envelope back in her pack, she then pulls out a leather pouch with a drawstring securing the top closed.

  Opening the drawstring, she carefully upends the pouch and pours arrowheads out onto the log. She has many different types and styles, even some crossbow bolt heads which she could use in a pinch, though they wouldn’t be greatly effective.

  Picking up one of the sticks which has been fledged, she finds a matching head which will work and then secures it onto the end. Once she’s made sure the head is secure and won’t fly off when the arrow is released from her bow, she sets it down and picks up the next one.

  As she works on the arrows, getting them ready for what she’s sure will be a deadly run to Kern, she wishes she had acquired more of the heads when she had the chance. But how was she to even have known she was to be in such a situation as she finds herself in now.

  Sighing, she just works on the arrows until she has ten lying on the ground at her feet. Putting the unused arrowheads back into the pouch, she closes the drawstring and replaces it in her pack.

  She gathers the ten arrows and carries them over to her quiver where she places them with the ones already within it. Twenty two arrows are now in her quiver. She’d like more, but she made that mistake before. Grinning, she remembers a hunt with her father.

  She had been so young and wanted to show him how well and how fast she could fletch an arrow. So she worked at it until her quiver had been jam packed with them. When she showed the quiver to her father, he gave her a smile and told her how good she was. Oh, she was simply aglow from his praise.

  Then it happened. From out of the trees ahead of them, a wild boar had emerged and charged. She reached into her quiver for an arrow, but they were so tightly packed in there that it was hard to get one out. So she pulled hard on an arrow and suddenly, the entire contents of the quiver had come out, arrows flying in all directions.

  Placing the single arrow left in her hand to her bow, she sighted on the charging boar just when an arrow from her father flew past and struck it in the neck, killing it. She can still remember the embarrassment at seeing thirty five arrows scattered about from where they had all been pulled from her quiver. The amused smile her father gave her at the time had brought her great embarrassment and shame. But later on, the experience became one of fondness and amusement at the little girl who had packed her quiver too tightly.

  Oh how I wish you were here now, father. But that can never be, he was one of those who died when the Empire arrived that fateful day at Mountainside. Some of the men, her father included, tried to fight them off, but there were simply too many of them. If she hadn’t been on one of her solitary hunts up in the mountains at the time, she most likely would have died with him. There are times when she wishes she had.

  Her mother she hardly remembers at all, having died when she was young. But from the stories her father told her, she must have been a strong woman. Had to have been to keep him in line as her father always liked to joke about.

  She hears Jiron returning down the road and turns with a smile which quickly vanishes from her face. It wasn’t Jiron she heard but soldiers of the Empire. Three of them are coming toward her, their longswords out and ready. One of them says something to her in their language, most likely commanding her to ‘not do anything foolish’.

  Screaming at the top of her lungs, “Jiron!” she quickly grabs her bow and an arrow out of her quiver. Backing up, she puts arrow to string and threatens the approaching men.

  They come to a quick halt when the arrow points at them. Her quiver of arrows is now between her and them, all she has is the single arrow currently in her bow. She could easily kill one but the other two would be on her before she could do anything.

  One of the men puts his sword away and holds his hands up in a non-threatening manner. His voice becomes soothingly as he begins inching his way closer to her.

  Three? Is that all they sent from the forces by Kern? Can’t be, but there are no others behind them. A noise behind her causes her to quickly glance backward and she sees a soldier scramble over the edge of the cliff.

  They’re climbing up from the valley below! What could possibly have forced them to dare such a treacherous climb?

  Other men can be seen on the top of the ridge as well, moving toward where she holds the three men at bay. She glances from the three men then to the others approaching. Four others are on their way toward the standoff.

  Suddenly from behind the three men, a fast moving shape comes out of the forest, and light glints
off of a blade in each hand as Jiron stabs two of the men in the back, severing their spinal columns.

  She lets fly her arrow and takes the lead soldier who had been advancing upon her square in the chest. The man flies backward from the force of the arrow and lands atop the other two men, dying on the ground.

  “See to James!” Jiron cries as he moves to attack the others advancing upon them from the edge of the cliff.

  She sees him, a man with two knives, facing off against four men with swords. Such courage! Moving quickly, she reaches the campsite and her quiver of arrows. Taking up position next to the still unconscious James, she slings her quiver across her back and puts arrow to string.

  To her surprise, when she turns to aim at the men Jiron is fighting, one of his attackers is already lying still on the ground. Lining up another of his attackers, she releases her arrow and strikes him in the chest, spinning him around. Before he even falls to the ground, she has another arrow knocked and released, taking out another man.

  Left with only one opponent, Jiron launches into a series of lightning fast attacks which the soldier is ill equipped to defend against. As his knives dance, blood starts flowing from many wounds until he manages to sink his blade into the soldier’s chest. Kicking out with his foot, he knocks the man off his knife then quickly turns and surveys the area.

  A cry by the cliff edge draws his attention as an arrow strikes a man who just gained the top and knocks him backward over the side. His screams gradually diminish as he plummets to the ground far below.

  “Get the horses!” he hollers to Aleya as he moves to James. Kneeling down next to him, he shakes him and yells, “James! Wake up!”

  James’ eyes flash open and he sits up. Pain erupts in his forehead and he holds his head in his hands to quell the pain. He glances to Jiron through eyes barely open from the pain and asks, “What’s going on?”

  Pointing to the cliff edge, he replies, “They’re coming up the side of the cliff. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Another cry is heard from a man with an arrow protruding from his left shoulder. The pain from the wound isn’t even slowing him down. The soldier continues toward them as Aleya lets fly another arrow, this time hitting him square in the chest, dropping him to the ground just as two more clear the cliff’s edge.

  Slinging her bow behind her, she races over to the horses, quickly unties them and leads them back to where Jiron and James are waiting. Taking up her bow again, she starts picking off the men as they clear the top.

  As Jiron helps James into the saddle he asks him, “How do you feel?”

  “Like, can I do magic?” he asks back.

  Jiron nods his head.

  “Wouldn’t want to,” he says. Then he glances back to the edge of the cliff and sees three more men clear the top. More are coming over than Aleya can pick off. “But can if I must.”

  Once he’s in the saddle, Jiron mounts up and hollers over to Aleya who had just killed another soldier, “Time to go!”

  Quickly slinging the bow across her back, she grabs the saddle and in one fluid motion settles into the saddle. The quiver slung next to her bow has been greatly depleted during the assault. Only half a dozen arrows remain.

  Kicking their horses into a gallop, they race off down the trail. Behind them, more and more men continue reaching the top. Jiron glances back just before they disappear in the trees and counts over two score men have already made it to the top, their numbers steadily increasing.

  They slow the horses down after putting some distance between them and the soldiers behind them. The trail they’re on is hardly more than a game trail, at one time it looks like this may have been a roadway leading from the watchtower overlooking the valley to somewhere near where the Fortress of Kern now lies.

  “That was some shooting,” praises Jiron. “You’re good.”

  “Thanks,” replies Aleya. “My father was a good teacher with the bow. He always said ‘Be fast, but shoot true. Speed without accuracy is fatal.’”

  “True words,” nods Jiron.

  The trail continues to wind down the mountain as it switchbacks first one direction, then the other. James breaks the silence and asks, “How long was I out?”

  “Since early last night,” replies Jiron. “I would’ve let you rest longer, but circumstances dictated otherwise.”

  “Understandable,” states James.

  “Last night we were talking,” he tells James, “and we came to the conclusion that any forces down below us are going to be looking for us to come down off of here.”

  He thinks about that as they ride in silence a minute and then says, “Any ideas on what to do about that?”

  “Not really,” he replies.

  Aleya joins the conversation and adds, “We won’t really know what to do until we find out where they are.”

  James nods his head, “True. Hopefully we’ll see them before they see us.”

  “I’ve only got six arrows left,” Aleya speaks up.

  “Can you make more?” James asks her.

  “Sure,” she replies. “It’s really not that difficult, just time consuming. To fletch sufficient numbers, I’d need several hours and more arrowheads.”

  “Which we’re not going to have,” he says. “Can you fight?”

  “I never really had occasion to before,” she says. “My father said my bow would deter anyone from bothering me.”

  Jiron glances at her and says, “Just stay near me and I’ll protect you.”

  “I may just do that,” she replies, giving him a smile.

  The trail continues its descent through the trees, at one point they came across an overgrown pile of stone that looks to have once been a building at some point. The ceiling has long since caved in and grass and trees are growing in amongst the rubble. James notices the architecture is somewhat similar to that which was found in the valley on the other side of the ridge.

  Knowing the soldiers behind them are most likely still in pursuit, they decide against stopping, except for the most immediate calls of nature. When noon rolls around, they break out rations and eat in the saddle. By this time, they’ve come quite a ways down from the top, the exact distance is hard to tell due to the thickness of the forest.

  Jiron has begun to regale her with tales of their exploits as they make their way through the forest. He was just beginning the one where they had gone through the underground caves in the Merchant’s Pass when a crossbow bolt embeds itself in a tree right next to him.

  Another one flies out and strikes James’ horse causing it to rear and throw him from the saddle. Then all hell breaks loose when a cry goes up from ahead of them and men begin swarming toward them out of the forest.

  Crumph! Crumph!

  Two massive explosions send men, dirt and trees up into the air. Jiron comes over to where James is getting up off the ground and reaches down a hand.

  Taking the proffered hand, James vaults up behind him on his horse and with Aleya riding next to them, turn off the trail and begin racing downhill through the forest. “If we can make it out of the forest and into the hills, we may be able to reach Kern before they can get us.”

  “Are you sure?” Aleya shouts.

  “About that, yes,” replies Jiron. “About getting to the hills before they catch us, no.”

  Either way, they’re making a run for it.

  Moving as fast as the terrain and trees will allow, they race for their lives. Jiron swings around a rather large tree blocking their way and runs directly into a patrol of six soldiers. Riding straight through them, he hears his horse cry out as a soldier slashes out with a knife and cuts a deep gash along its left hindquarters.

  Aleya stays right with them and they soon leave that patrol behind. His horse begins faltering and glancing back at the wound, can see where the blood is flowing freely down the horse’s flank. He realizes his horse isn’t going to last much longer and brings it to a halt.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks as Jiron and James beg
ins dismounting. Then the horse turns and she sees the deep gash and the trail of blood flowing down its side. Nodding, she dismounts as well.

  “Looks like we’re on foot from here,” states Jiron. Looking to Aleya he adds, “There’s no way your horse will support all three of us for long. Go ahead and get out of here, there’s no sense in you dying too.”

  “You’ll stand a better chance with an archer than just by yourselves,” she tells him. “You aren’t getting rid of me so easily.” She sees the protest building behind his eyes and adds, “Besides, where am I going to go?”

  Giving in to the logic, he gives her a grin as he replies, “I was hoping you’d say that, but I had to give you the option.”

  “Can we stop all this jibber jabber and get out of here?” James asks impatiently.

  Heading downhill, they make their way as fast as possible through the undergrowth of the forest. Aleya keeps one of her remaining arrows in hand for a quick draw should the need arise.

  Up the hill behind them, they can hear the sound of many people crashing through the forest in pursuit. Horns begin sounding behind them and are soon answered by horns both in front of and all around them.

  “They’ve got us encircled!” Jiron exclaims.

  “Continue down,” insists James. “It’s our only chance!”

  Rushing headlong toward the waiting soldiers they each know must be down there, James suddenly notices a stream that abruptly appears out of a clump of fallen trees. Not understanding why it should nag at him, he comes to a stop.

  “What’re you stopping for?” Jiron asks as he comes back to where James is standing near the fallen trees.

  “This stream is flowing out of these trees,” he says. “But it doesn’t flow into them.”

  “So?” he asks, scanning around for hostiles.

  James begins making his way to the base of the pile as he continues, “Doesn’t it seem odd for a stream to suddenly appear like this?”