“He was.”
“And if I remember your story correctly, you rescued him from slavery the night before you were to fight?” This time it was Kay’il who raised his eyebrows, as if that knowledge were enough to support Jarak’s last statement.
“That is correct.”
Jarak, catching on, agreed with Kay’il. “As I said, it sounds like he owes you. I would like to see these Varga that I’ve heard so much about.”
Brant wasn’t so certain. “Just because I know one Varga who owes me a debt, doesn’t mean they will help us in any way. These Varga are huge, powerful, and skilled fighters, and I cannot guarantee my association with one will protect us from the others. I have to admit, though, I would like to see him again.”
“We should weigh the possible outcomes,” Kivalla said, ever the pragmatist. “We do not have to make that choice for another day.”
Jarak pursed his lips in thought. “Agreed. Once we cross the river we will decide.”
They saw the flickering lights of Loral below them as they crested the rise of a small hill. The sun was disappearing beyond the horizon and the flowing water of the mighty Pelm River reflected the light of the moon as it moved to take the sun's position. They were all thinking of a hot meal, the warmth of a fire on their cold flesh, and a soft bed. It was too late to cross the river now. They would have to procure passage in the morning.
It appeared to Brant that the town was a little bigger than Amorsit. The road meandered into town, the lights of lanterns and fires flickering in the windows, their welcome dance calling them forward. They used their heels to give their horses a little extra nudge to pick up the pace. It had been over two weeks since they had slept in a warm bed with a real roof over their head. It was something they were looking forward to.
As if on cue, Orin, Ardra, and Aldgar galloped in from the rear, kicking up snow and debris in the process. They seemed to be in a hurry. They pulled up sharply as the rest of the group stopped to converse with them.
“What is it?” Jarak asked. He could tell they seemed alarmed over something.
“We were a quarter day behind you when Ardra thought she saw something far off in the distance. We tied up the horses and left Aldgar to watch them. Together we went closer on foot to get a better look.” Orin stopped and looked at Ardra, her face showing concern. “We are being hunted.”
“By whom?” Jarak asked.
“They had a skilled Schulg tracker so we did not get close. But it was a party of sixteen. Twelve of them were Saricons.”
No one said anything for a moment as they digested their words.
“One more thing,” Ardra said. “Ten of the Saricons wore red capes with black hoods.”
“So,” Serix interjected.
Ardra looked at Aldgar. “They are personal guards of the Tongra,” he said. “Each warrior strong in the Fury…highly trained.”
“What should we do?” Cat asked.
“How far back are they?” Horst asked.
“We made good time,” Orin answered. “Less than a quarter day.”
“The question is will they travel at night or hold up somewhere to camp and come into town in the morning,” Kivalla muttered, thinking out loud.
“How did they find us?” Dayd asked. “The storm would have wiped out any of our tracks.”
“I do not know,” Jarak answered. “The way I see it is we can set up an ambush here, and fight at night. Or we can stay in town and procure passage early in the morning and hope they do not arrive.”
“Even if they do,” Kay’il added. “Would they attack us in town?”
“Let’s hope we do not find out,” Jarak replied. “I suggest we take the chance and head into town. If we leave at first light perhaps we will miss them.”
“And if not?” Brant asked.
“Then we fight. Let’s go,” Jarak said as he pulled on the reins of his horse. “I am eager for a fire and a warm bed.”
For a small town during the winter the streets and businesses seemed pretty busy to Brant. Travelers were milling about as they made their way to their choice of one of two inns, or to inspect the shops that lined the main street that ran through the middle of town. Kay’il explained that Loral had been built at the intersection of two main roads. One road skirted the north fork of the Pelm River and worked its way into Palatone. Another, the one they might take themselves, crossed the river and followed the south fork into Elwyn, then continued south, eventually leading to Lyone, the Dy’ainian garrison guarding their western border. Of course now it was overrun by Saricons. They doubted any of the people were heading in that direction. If anything, they were leaving Dy’ain and looking for safer lands. And then there was the road they had come in on, on which they had encountered few travelers. Everyone seemed to be heading out of Dy’ain, not in.
Kay’il, Horst, and Dayd, had been to Loral before and they led them to the largest inn located near the bank of the river. It was more costly and therefore avoided by most travelers of modest means. The inn had a number of rooms located along the river’s edge, each with their own entrance, allowing them to bring the chests of Kul-brite inside without much notice. Kay’il went inside to procure the rooms while the rest waited outside, their vigilant eyes scanning the shadowed streets. Lanterns had been lit and hung at various intervals along the wooden footpaths lining each side of the road, providing access to shops, homes, and businesses. The road was a mixture of ice, snow, and mud, churned up by the hooves of horses, and the wheels of carts and wagons as they moved throughout the town each day.
Men and women walked by, their winter coats pulled tight around them. And even though their winter clothing managed to conceal their armor, the travelers in town seemed to sense something unusual about them, and the locals especially eyed them with uncertainty. Jarak wore his tunic over his Kul-brite armor and his pauldrons were covered by his thick winter cloak. There was no way he could allow anyone to see his armor, and he was certainly not going to take it off. Not with danger following them so close. His helm had been strapped to one of the mules and covered with one of his wool sleeping blankets. But anyone could tell that they were heavily armed, and people could sense they were warriors. There was something in their stance, and in their eyes, hard and alert that suggested they had seen their share of violence. Most of the townspeople and travelers walked by them with no more than a quick glance before averting their eyes.
Kay’il emerged from the inn and the clamor of conversation could be heard from inside as the door opened, vanishing just as quickly as it shut behind him. “Luckily, they had four rooms available. They were their most expensive, the price including drawn baths.”
Brant nodded towards the laden mules. “I think we can afford it,” he said. There was enough Kul-brite on those three mules to buy the entire town four times over.
“Very good,” Jarak said. “Let’s unload our gear and come back for a warm meal.”
“What of the Kul-brite?” Serix asked. “I don’t think we should leave it unattended.”
“I agree,” Kay’il answered. “Dayd, Horst, and I will take our meals in our room. We will watch over the steel.”
Jarak nodded. “Lead the way.”
Everyone was exhausted and after they ate, returned to their rooms for baths and bed. Orin, Ardra, and Aldgar, slept in one room, while Brant, Serix, and Endler slept in another. The Dygon Guards watched over the Kul-brite in the third. Jarak and Cat, who talked quietly over dinner about the arrangement, slept in the fourth.
“If you don’t feel comfortable sleeping in my room I understand,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. “But I will feel more comfortable if you are closer to me.”
She looked shyly at him from across the table. The two of them had sat together at a cozy table by one of the big roaring fires at the River’s Crossing Inn. The others had taken up several tables nearby. “I don’t know….”
“You can have the bed,” he interjected. “I will sleep on the floor.”
Jarak covered her hand with his free one. “I feel the same. The thought of losing you on top of losing my own parents crushes my heart.”
She smiled, and they talked quietly for a bit longer before slipping away towards their room.
Everyone was up before the sun, clothed, armed, and ready for travel. Slipping away early in the morning, Orin and Ardra scouted the road they came in on, looking for any sign of the war party behind them.
It was early and the ferry operator was not yet up, the dock and boat empty as the sun struggled to rise from its long sleep. “We need to wake the ferry operator,” Jarak said, his impatience getting the best of him. He didn’t want to be caught on this side of the river when the Saricon war party arrived.
“I will see if I can wake him,” Kay’il said, turning to leave. The ferry operator had a small log home on the river’s edge less than a thousand paces up river, just on the edge of town. They had used his services before and Kay’il knew where to find him.
Just then Orin and Ardra came galloping around the corner, their horse’s mad race kicking up snow and mud behind them. They pulled in on their reins, their horses sliding to a stop as the agile Gyths leaped from the saddles.
“They are behind us!” Orin shouted.
“Did they see you?” Serix asked.
“Yes! Their scout is very good. He spotted us! They must have slept briefly and traveled at night. We need to load that ferry, and now!”
The ferry was basically a wide flat boat with railings capable of carrying men and horses. A steel apparatus rose from one side of the boat and a giant rope, as thick around as a Saricon’s wrist, was strung through the structure’s round eyes; each end securely fastened to massive pillars driven into the ground on either side of the river. The crossing point was the narrowest section with a slower current, allowing the operator to use long poles to slowly push the boat across, the rope keeping it from floating slowly down river.
“Load the boat!” Jarak shouted. Everyone moved quickly, working to get the mules on first, followed by the horses.
But before they could finish, the thundering of horses jerked their attention to the main road. Sixteen horses filled the road, running at them in a staggered formation. The few people that were up this early scattered for the safety of their homes, sensing the battle to come.
Brant drew his sword. “Finish loading everything!” he yelled as he ran to where the dock connected to the shore. Kay’il, Dayd, and Horst also drew their blades, joining Brant, their Kul-brite steel flickering in the early morning sun. Brant could easily see the ten warriors that Aldgar spoke of, their travel worn red capes fluttering behind them, black hoods pulled tightly over their heads, wisps of blond hair waving around the edges. He saw they rode with their shields strapped to the sides of their steeds. As they neared, they expertly lifted their small shields to their arms that held the reins, using their other arm to reach into a quiver on the horses other side and withdrawing one of their deadly javelins. It was done with the practiced precision one only sees in the most highly trained warriors. Within moments, Aldgar was beside them, along with Orin and Ardra who joined them on either side, their bows drawn with arrows nocked.
Just as the Gyths drew back their arrows, the movement smooth and practiced, Brant saw the Saricons draw their arms back and hurl their heavy javelins into the air.
“Spears!” Aldgar yelled, just as the space between them filled with deadly javelins. Brant dodged one and cut another in half, but there were eight more, sailing closely together, all descending upon them. The Dygon Guard pivoted expertly, moving with enhanced speed, their swords cutting left and right. Orin and Ardra, after releasing their own shafts, dove away from the Dygon Guards to avoid the javelins. But one found its mark, slamming into Horst’s thigh as he narrowly avoided another. The heavy tip punched through his flesh, hitting him so hard that it spun him around like a top, causing him to stumble backwards to the ground.
Luckily, the tip had just hit the side of his thigh, enough to cut a deep gash through his flesh, but not reaching bone. Pulling aura energy into his body, he pushed a large amount of it around his wound to mask the pain, then gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, still gripping his sword. It would take more than that to drop a Dygon Guard.
The Gyth’s arrows flew true, but the Saricons, with practiced efficiency, blocked most of them. Several arrows slammed into the steel shields, while another hit a warrior in the leg and one struck a horse in the chest, knocking the beast to the ground and catapulting the rider through the air.
The Saricons could not ride them down, as the dock behind them prohibited that. So as they came close, they reined their horses in, turning the animals expertly so their massive bodies protected them from the Gyths arrows as they dismounted. Slapping the horses on the flanks, they bolted away, revealing a shield wall of grim Saricons, their red capes billowing behind them. The shields were not infantry shields. They were smaller, designed for combat on horseback, but when locked together they created a shield wall that protected most of their torsos.
Lyra, Kedrick, and Lonas, along with the two Soothers, stayed behind the wall, alert for arrows heading their way.
“They have nowhere to go!” Lyra yelled as they ducked low behind the Saricons.
“They plan to leave without the operator!” Kedrick said, looking over the shield wall to the commotion on the dock.
Lyra said nothing, preparing her spell. As they moved forward, she focused on the energy in her tarnum, coalescing its power into a tight ball of red and orange energy. As they entered the city, she had tasked aura energy from the few civilians scattering before them. She had woven the strands of energy together; at least that’s how it appeared in her mind’s eye. After several moments, she held a fiery ball about the size of a man’s head. Looking at Kedrick, she smiled, quickly judged the distance, then threw the ball high into the air.
“Jarak!” Endler screamed, pointing into the air. They had nearly loaded all the animals when Jarak looked up and saw the glowing ball of fire quickly descending upon them.
Without thinking, he pulled energy from his mage stone, quickly focusing the power into an intense gust of wind. “Look out!” he yelled as he shot his hand forward, propelling a focused gust of wind towards the descending fireball. His hope was that he could hit the ball and direct it off course, where it would explode safely in the water off to the side.
Everyone on the boat, except for Serix and Endler, who were still rounding up the last three horses, ducked behind the big animals. Jarak’s gust hit the fireball head on, knocking it away and causing it to veer off course. It struck one of the pilings holding the dock in place and erupted in a powerful explosion, scattering flames across the wooden planks. One of the horses, terrified, leapt away from the fire, jerking the reins from Serix’s hands and jumping head long into the water.
The advancing Saricons were nearly upon them when Brant looked back as the explosion shook the ground. Kay’il glanced back as well, his expression grim as he saw the fire spread across the dock.
“Go!” he yelled at Brant.
“I will not leave you!”
Kay’il, Dayd, and now Horst, who had regained his position next to them despite the blood dripping down the side of his leg, planted their feet wide, their Kul-brite blades held before them. Their grim faces showed no fear, only determination. And something else, resilience, like mountains before a windstorm. The Saricons, now holding swords and axes, their shields locked tight, were nearly upon them.
“You must protect him!” Kay'il shouted. “There is no one else! This,” he said as he nodded towards the enemy, “
is our duty!”
Brant looked back and saw that the fire had nearly consumed the entire dock. Growling in frustration, he pulled more energy from his aura, pushing it into his legs. His peripheral vision caught the swift movement of Orin and Ardra as they rushed by him, barely avoiding the fire that had nearly consumed the entrance to the dock. With one more look at Kay’il and the others, he reluctantly sprinted back to the dock. Using his enhanced strength he leaped high over the flames as they took over the entire structure.
Flying through the air he heard the distinct sounds of battle as the Saricon shields met with Kul-brite steel. Despite their grim sacrifice, he smiled inwardly, knowing that those elite Saricon warriors were now finding out what a Kul-brite blade could do in the hands of a Dygon Guard. Landing hard, he rolled across the wooden planks to come up standing before the boat.
“Where is Kay’il and the others?” Jarak yelled, his expression frantic.
“Fighting the Saricons! We have to go!”
“We can’t leave them!” Jarak shouted in frustration as he jumped upon the dock, the heat from the fire causing him to shield his eyes.
“There is nothing we can do!” Serix yelled over the fighting and the roar of the fire. “We must go!”
The dock was burning quickly and Jarak looked around desperately, hoping that a solution to their predicament would show itself. But nothing did. The heat was now nearly overwhelming and Jarak was forced to step back onto the boat.
Serix held one of the long poles as did Endler and Aldgar, and when they saw that Brant and the two Gyths had jumped into the boat, they plunged them into the dark water and began to push. Slowly the boat moved out into the water. When the current caught the raft, it pulled the heavy boat down river until the thick rope caught it, it's oiled surface allowing the rope to move through the rings that held the boat in place.
Everyone stared back at the shore in silence, the fire blazing high and blocking the fighting from view. For a few more moments they could hear the occasional ring of steel on steel, and then it was gone, the only sound remaining was the roar of the fire.
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