by James Dale
"I hadn't really thought about it." Jack mused, "Amar I suppose. If we can find Tereil and the Galekindar. But I am not going to cross the Bergaweld again."
"If we do not find the Amarians, we will go north then," the giant announced, "Once we are beyond the Margalags, we can strike west for Amar or continue north to Brydium. I trust my new friends will have the where-withal to protect me from your kind. Whichever route we decide."
“I will protect you with my own life,” Braedan promised the giant.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Tarsus nodded, "Now, if neither of you gentlemen have any objections, do you think might step up our pace? Whether we run into Teriel or not, I'm feeling dangerously exposed out here."
The three began to lengthen their strides, moving quickly across the snow covered plain. They had traveled perhaps three quarters of the way across the way and were less than a mile from the sanctuary of the surrounding hills when the ominous pealing of a horn suddenly rang out from the direction of Gorthiel. The haunting sound froze the fugitives in their tracks, drawing their gaze involuntarily back to the dark citadel. Through the swirling snow, dim shapes could be seen pouring from the open gate of Gorthiel as grim'Hiru began to swarm out of the Iron Tower.
"Run!" Maelcain shouted, and dropping all pretense they made a mad dash for the hills.
With his long strides, the giant quickly outdistanced his two human companions, but he stopped to wait for them where the ground began to rise into the rugged foothills. When Jack and Tarsus caught up to the Jahrkirin, they were both breathing hard, winded from the difficult sprint through the swiftly deepening snow, and their log inactively in the bowls of the Iron Tower. Crouching down beside a huge boulder, they looked back towards their pursuers. Hundreds of the beast-men where now dotting the plains, their leading ranks already a third of the way across the plains. Even as they watched several grim'Hiru began waving their swords in their direction, urging their slower comrades on.
"Yh’Adan protect us! Look!" Tarsus hissed sharply, but he was pointing back at the Iron Tower, not at the quickly approaching horde of beast-men.
Jack followed the Amarian's shaking hand to the utmost pinnacle of the dark citadel, where to his horror, a monstrous silhouette suddenly appeared. As if lethargic from the cold, the shadowy form unfurled wings larger than the sails of any dreadnought to ever put to sea. The titanic beast stepped from the precept, plummeting towards the earth like a black star falling from heaven. For a fleeting instant Jack thought it would surely crash into the snow-covered courtyard below, but a scant hundred feet above the ground its wings caught upon a current of air, and with a primal roar of triumph the shadow began to ponderously rise.
"A dragon!" Maelcain cried, watching the monster circle the tower as it slowly gained altitude. "We must separate!"
"What?" Jack hissed.
"The beast will have a rider." the giant explained hurriedly, "Three fleeing figures will be harder to track than a single group. If we are lucky this snow will obscure his vision enough so the sorcerer will mistake one of us for you."
"He is right," Tarsus nodded, "We must separate."
"No! Absolutely not!" Jack cried, finally understanding what the two were planning. "I didn't cross the Bloody Plains and pull you out of Gorthiel just so you could sacrifice yourself again!"
"There is no time to argue!" the Amarian replied curtly, "You are the only one of us who matters."
"Go my friend." Maelcain said quietly, "Tarsus and I will draw them away."
"But..."
"You are Jha’ak. The Bridge." the Bahrah'nahir insisted. "Without you my people are lost! You must not be taken!"
"Tarsus!" Jack pleaded desperately, "I can't leave you again!"
"You must!" his friend insisted, "Jack, before I met you I was just another wandering mercenary, with no thought beyond my next drink or the next whore. But you reminded me I am more than that! You have made the Amarian's a people again! I will not see you die here and take that all away from us!"
"Here Jha’ak." Maelcain said, reaching into his tunic he brought out the Tears of Yh’Adan. "I would not have them fall into the Dark One's possession. When you come into your inheritance, give them back to my people as a sign their long isolation has ended."
"I will," Jack nodded, solemnly accepting the stones the giant forced into his hands, "The Jahrkirin will be Vestir’nah no longer. I swear it."
"Go Jack," Tarsus said placing a callused hand on his shoulder. "Find Tereil if you can. We will make sure the grim'Hiru do not follow."
"Don’t do anything stupid," Jack ordered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Follow me if you can.”
"I won’t. I will," the Amarian promised. "But if I can’t, when you see Tereil again, tell him...tell him his grandson died like a King of Amar."
"Go now Jack Braedan!" Maelcain commanded, glancing back to their pursuers. The grim’Hiru were less than a mile from their hiding place and covering the remaining ground between them quickly.
"Well giant," Tarsus said, hefting his sword then rolling his injured shoulder to loosen the stiffness. "Shall we throw a little confusion into our pursuit?"
"I think we can manage that," the Jahrkirin grinned.
"Are you still here?" Tarsus asked, turning to Braedan.
With a last lingering glance at his two friends, Jack tightened his grip on the Talon of the Hawk, then fled into the hills.
Chapter Six
The Lady Cil’lena
Tears of frustrated rage streamed down Jack's cheeks as he left Maelcain and Tarsus behind to face the fast approaching grim'Hiru without out him. He was supposed to be Heir of Sunheart and the Highsword Yhswyndyr! The Promised who would save the bloody Whesguard! Yet once again, others were placing their lives in peril while he fled from danger. How many more times would the Amarian have to risk his life so he could fulfill his destiny? Would he lose it this time? With each step taking him further into the snow-covered hills, Jack cursed the fate that had placed the blood of Ljmarn Bra'Adan in his veins. But he doubly cursed Graith. If and when the day ever came when he held the Highsword in his hands, he would make the fallen lord pay for the lives of all those who had been lost on because of who he was. He would call the dark-King to account for every spilled drop of their precious blood! Every drop!
Braedan fled blindly into the driving snow, uncaring where his feet led him, following random, thoughtless routes through the rugged hills. Slowly, as the cold began to settle into his bones and banked the fires ragging within him, he became more selective of the paths he chose, keeping to the relative safety of the lower lying draws that led him north, deeper into the lifeless hills. Crossing over the rocky, broken crest of a ridge line, he ventured a quick look back over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. Though he could see nothing of the following grim'Hiru, muffled shouts echoed in the distance along with the continuous, trilling peal of the hunting horns. Suddenly those sounds were joined by a defiant cry rising somewhere off to his right.
"Elar Amar! Elar Galekindar!"
"Tarsus!" Jack cried and took a single, involuntary step in the direction of the shout. The Amarian's war cry was answered by the challenging roar from high above him.
Searching the eastern sky, Jack spotted the tremendous bulk of the beast as it swooped down out of the clouds only to disappear behind a hill less than a mile away. For several anxious seconds he watched breathlessly, wondering if the monster had found his friend. Slowly the beast appeared above the horizon, roaring once more. This time however, the dragon's trumpeting bellow was filled with frustrated ire. As it rose ponderously again into the sky a taunting shout followed after it.
"Elar Amar! Elar Galekindar!"
Tarsus still lived!
With wild laugh of elation, Jack turned back to the north and fled deeper into the hills.
His elation was short lived.
The other side of treacherous slope soon became a narrow draw which Braedan followed for perhaps half a mile. Eventually he f
ound himself surrounded on all sides by steep, rocky cliffs, and further on came up against a nearly vertical wall marking the end of a box canyon. Under different circumstances the climb would have been difficult but not impossible. Covered by a nearly a foot of snow however, attempting the wall would be suicide. With a sulfurous curse, he began to retrace his steps back out of the canyon.
Regaining the top of the ridge some minutes later, Braedan crested the hill and immediately threw himself down flat onto the ground. About fifty yards below, slogging their way through the deepening snow came a squad of five grim'Hiru. They were following the plainly marked trail he'd left behind. There was no cover on the barren slope where he could hide until they passed and nowhere to run but back into the cul'du'sac of the box canyon.
He was trapped!
There was only one thing he could do. Gripping Bin'et ardendel tightly, he waited until the leading grim'Hiru appeared above the rim of the hilltop and sprang from his crouch with a maniacal yell. The elven wrought blade whistled through the crisp air, catching the startled beast-man just below his jaw line. The grim'Hiru's shaggy head leapt from his shoulders and bounced down the hill, leaving a crimson splattered trail in the pristine whiteness of the freshly fallen snow. Braedan followed the headless corpse as it spasmed backwards, lowering his shoulder and charging into the nearest grim'Hiru. The beast-man was sent reeling into the line of his closely packed companions and they all collapsed in a heap.
Somehow Jack kept his feet, dancing nimbly among the sharp rocks and chaotic flailing of limbs like a deadly, demented ballerina. A clawed hand reached up in a feeble attempt to grasp the hem of his flapping cloak but a backhand swipe of the Talon of the Hawk sliced through flesh and bone, severing the beast-man's arm at the wrist. Then he was free of the pile, careening recklessly down the treacherous hill in desperate flight. Against all odds, he reached the bottom without falling and chanced a quick glance over his shoulder. The remaining grim'Hiru were only now struggling back to their feet to resume pursuit. With a barking laugh Braedan disappeared around the curve of the hill.
Those five were not the only beast-men in the hills, and their shouts as they stumbled after him soon drew others in his direction. Through the falling snow he glimpsed another squad of grim'Hiru, this group numbering over twenty and carrying long, black bows with arrows notched. Though they did not see him before he slipped into another valley, he had little hope they would miss the single set of foot prints he left in his wake. And on this day a single set of prints would not be mistaken for anything other than the spoor of prey. Minutes later when he stopped beside a large boulder to rest and catch his breath, Braedan heard excited shouts confirming his fears. With grim determination, he rose once again and fled deeper into the hills.
The chase soon developed into a deadly game of hide and seek, and there were hundreds of seekers. But still no sign of Tereil or the Galekindar. The Margalagas were barren and rocky, with sharp ridges and narrow valleys. There could have been a thousand Amarians in these mountains and he wouldn’t know it unless he stumbled into their midst. Twice however, Braedan nearly stumbled into the grim’Hiru swarming throughout the hills. Both times he managed to avoid detection and escape their notice. His third encounter spelled the end of his luck. As he was climbing upon hands and knees up a steep slope towards midday, he heard the triumphant roar of many deep throated voices. He did not need to turn and look to know another patrol had found him.
He was less than ten feet from the crest of the hill. Ten bloody feet! It had taken him nearly twenty minutes of arduous climbing to make it this far up the formidable slope. If he could only reach the summit, he could be miles away by the time the grim'Hiru pursuing him duplicated the feat. Scrambling frantically over the remaining distance, Braedan reached up for the stone outcrop of the overhanging ledge, and with a heave born of desperation, pulled himself to the top.
He had just swung his legs up onto the ledge and struggled to his feet when something stuck his right shoulder with the force of a sledgehammer, hurling him forward, over the crest and out into empty space. An Arrow. Jack realized with calm detachment as he tumbled head first through the air. As the snow-covered ground rushed towards him, he closed his eyes with a weary sigh. “I almost made it,” he thought as darkness enfolded him.
"Ten....minutes!"
Jack's eyes snapped open. The cylindrical belly of the transport plane was illuminated by the green glow of tactical lighting. Night jump, he realized instantly. Through the thin aluminum walls of the aircraft, he could hear the steady, high-pitched whine of jet engines. C-141 Starlifter. The engines were too quiet to be a C-5. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, he began to make out the faces of the other jumpers in the aircraft with him...inhuman faces...grim'Hiru faces.
"I'm dreaming," Jack muttered. The beast-man seated across from him bared his fangs in a toothy grin. "Or in Hell."
The grim'Hiru's smile widened.
"Stand up!" the jump master bellowed from the front of the aircraft. Through the gloom Jack recognized the sorcerer Nalon-Lox.
"Stand...up!" the grim'Hiru around him echoed, struggling to their feet. Weighted down with a heavy parachute and a full load of combat equipment, Jack slowly did the same.
"Hook static lines!" Nalon-Lox commanded, forming C's with the thumbs and first fingers of both hand and pumping his arms up and down.
"Hook static lines!" Jack repeated automatically, and unfastened the clip running from the yellow nylon cord attached to his parachute. He reached for the thin wire cable above his head but for some reason he couldn't lift his arm. Then he noticed the barbed, bloody head sticking out his chest just below his collar bone. Ahh! He remembered with detached calm. “I've been shot.”
"Check static lines!" Nalon-Lox commanded.
"Check static lines!" the grim'Hiru repeated.
“Hey, I can’t hook up!” Jack yelled.
"Check equipment!" the sorcerer shouted.
"Check equipment!" the jumpers repeated.
"I don't know who packed your chute trooper," the grim'Hiru behind Jack laughed into his ear, "but I wouldn't jump it if'n I wuz you."
"Sound off for equipment check!" the sorcerer commanded.
"Okay!" the beast-man shouted behind him, slapping his rear.
"Wait!" Jack cried, but his voice was lost in the whine of the engines. He tried to drap his left arm over the cable to signal the jump master all was definitely not bloody okay, but couldn’t reach it. The Nalon-Lox smiled and continued with his commands.
"One minute!"
"One minute!" the grim'Hiru jumpers howled in reply.
"Drop zone is hot!" the sorcerer laughed, his eyes alight with the fires of hell. "I say again! Drop zone is hot!"
"Time to rock and roll Jack'o!" the grim'Hiru behind him snarled.
"Stand by!" the sorcerer commanded, and the line of grim'Hiru took a shuffling step forward.
"Dammit!" Jack cried, "I'm not hooked up!"
"Time to rock and roll!" the beast-man howled with delight.
"Go! Go! Go!" Nalon-Lox shouted, as the jump light by the open door changed from red to green. The beast-men began to shuffle forward, disappearing swiftly out the aircraft jump door with neat, military precision. Braedan fought desperately against the press of bodies pushing him toward his doom, but his struggles were useless. All too soon, he was standing before the dark opening, the whistling rush of wind filling his ears.
"Geronimo," Nalon-Lox winked and the beast-man behind him shoved him out into the black night.
"Noooooooo!"
"Noooooooo!" Jack's eyes flew open again.
He was lying on a stone floor, bound hand and foot before a low alter. Behind him he could feel a roaring fire, so close painful blisters were beginning to form on his exposed skin. Around the alter stood six dark robbed figures, four of them holding down the struggling woman soon to be sacrificed. Through the spaces between the two priests at the head of the alter, Jack saw brief flashes of shini
ng auburn hair.
"Anna?" he whispered, his throat constricting with sudden horror.
The figure at the head of the alter turned towards him, slowly pulling back his hood. Kiathan Ellgaer grinned fiendishly, his eyes reflecting the glow of the roaring fire.
"Anna!" Jack shouted.
The woman on the table whipped her head around and looked straight into his eyes, fixing him with a terrified stare. "Save me!" she wailed desperately. "Please Jack! I beg you! Save me!"
"It is too late Bra'Adan!" Kiathan cackled, lifting the dagger high above his head. "She belongs to the Master! Now and forever!"
"Jack!" Annawyn screamed as the dagger flashed down. It sank deep into her heaving chest with a sickening thud. The princess convulsed once, then died, her lifeless eyes staring at him accusingly.
"Nooooooooo!" he screamed.
"Peace," a soothing voice murmured. "It is only a dream."
"Forgive me Anna," Jack sobbed.
"Sleep," the voice whispered. "And do not dream."
"Forgive me," Jack repeated quietly, then drifted off into a deep, weary slumber.
Jack awoke slowly. He was shivering uncontrollably, somehow burning and freezing at the same time. The room was dark, but the flickering light from a single candle silhouetted a shadowy figure sitting quietly by the side of his...bed?
"Where..." he croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. "Where am I?"
"No questions," the shadowy figure said, laying a cool hand on his forehead. "Your fever has not yet broken. It is the poison."
"Poison?" he whispered, confused.
"Drink this," the figure said, placing a small cup to his parched lips. The liquid was ice cold and tasted mildly of cinnamon. Jack drank greedily. Whatever it was, it numbed his throat and he could feel his fever abating almost instantly.
"Sleep," the shadow commanded. "And do not dream."
Jack drifted quickly back to sleep. He did not dream.
"How are you feeling?"
