Disclaimer: Alagaësia is copyright to Cristopher Paolini. The characters of the story are mine, unless I let you borrow them.
In the time after the end of the war, Alagaësia suffered through a period of turmoil as things were restructured after the death of the King. During that time however, many of those who had fought on the King's side saw their chance to flee, the majority hiding and trying to merge into the general population. Some however, those who had the most to lose should they get captured, chose to go further in order to escape those who might be hunting them.
Hired to capture or take out the remains of Galbatorix army, the company of mercenaries had been on the road for many months, following a particulary tenacious group of deserters. In a normal case, they would have given up once the chase took them through the Beor mountains and into the strange lands beyond it. However, this was a case out of the ordinary, since the group of deserters included some of the highest-ranking officers and sorcerers from the deceased king's army. And the fact that they had taken with them no small part of the riches amassed by Galbatorix had certainly helped to increase the price on the heads of the deserters considerably.
So the mercenaries persevered, knowing that the reward would be quite worth it should they succeed.
Hunched down, using a growth of bushes as cover, archer Rienth watched the camp below the ridge. Less than an hour ago, it had been bustling with activity, but as dusk turned into night, most of the sixty deserters had retired to their tents or to makeshift beds at the ground. So now only the guards were up and about, and so was the sorcerer who had been marked as the greatest danger of his brethren.
Most of the guards were out of sight of-course, standing in the shadows or using one of the scrawny trees below as cover. However, the sorcerer seemed a all too easy target where he sat by the largest fire, occupied with some old scrolls. It all seemed a bit too convenient, to Rienth's rather suspicious mind at least, but he would have to trust the sorcerers of his company. Should the ambush go badly, it would be up to those to come up with countermeasures.
The company leader had been quite adamant that their own sorcerers would only act if the mundane fighters were obviously failing however. Better to keep an ace up the sleeve in case of disaster after all.
So, it had fallen to Rienth and his fellow archers to make the first move at taking out the enemy sorcerer. Dealing with any survivors would be up to the rest of the company, waiting for the archers to give the 'all clear' signal once they had done their job. Using a series of hand-signals, he gave the other archers their orders, and as everyone had moved into position-- bows were silently stringed and arrows readied.
Tightening the band that held held his dark hair out of his face, Rienth took a few deep breaths as he stood up, an arrow already on the string as he gave the signal to fire. Moments later, the air was filled with deadly missiles, arching gracefully upwards before they began their descent towards the unsuspecting sleepers below. It was just about impossible to see anything in the dark, but the faint sounds of metal hitting flesh and the following screaming made it clear that the first wave had found targets.
Even as he and his fellow archers sent off yet another flight of arrows though, Rienth could not avoid noticing that the sorcerer had not been taken out. Somehow he had been able to evade the first arrows, and now he had found a shield, using it and his magic to deflect the arrows as he retreated. Quite visible in the firelight now, the sorcerer's face was surprisingly young, though his angry frown did little for his appearance. He had no choice but to retreate though, and if he might have been tempted to strike out, he quickly fled when the rest of the mercenary company charged into the camp.
"Ah hells, can't let that one get away," Rienth muttered, signaling his companions to get their horses, "not with all the trouble he could cause us on our way back."
Rienth had been one of many involved in the war between the Empire and the Varden, and he had certainly seen the havoc caused by sorcerers on both sides. So had the company commander, and Serren would probably have his skin if he let that sorcerer escape unchallenged. Swinging up in the saddle of his own horse, a brown gelding, Rienth quietly noted one of the younger archers-- saluting her companions before she turned her own horse around and went to warn the rest of the company.
She knew what to do that one, even withount being told, probably he would have to comend her for that later. At the present though, it was taking down the sorcerer that mattered. Certainly it was not a good idea to give that one much time to prepare anything truly nasty.
With a quick look around to make sure that everyone had hear his order, Rienth quickly told three of the archers to stay behind and join the rest of the company. And once those were on their way, he and the remaining eleven rode down the hill just to the left of the camp, managing to find the trail left by the sorcerer after a bit of searching. Following the tracks left by anything during night was not easy, even under the best conditions. However, obviously the sorcerer was not used to being hunted and did a poor job trying to cover his tracks. There was signs that he tried certainly, but with Rienth and the others so close behind, he did not have the time to do a good job with it.
Even so, the archers had to move relatively slowly, leading their horses while the better trackers among them took the lead. And in the dark all around them was the strange land they had wandered into, strange sounds occationally reaching Rienth's ears. It wasn't completely alien certainly, but the smells were different-- strange, and the way some of the animals were acting suggested that they weren't used to humans. None had been completely without fear, though many had been clearly curious about the strange humans traveling through their territories.
Who knew what might exist out there, Rienth thought. The moon didn't exactly help either, casting an eerie light over the landscape, as well as the towering, snowcapped mountains back to the north. Even after traveling for days across the plains, the mountains were still imposing, and to Rienth it appeared almost strange that the company had been able to cross them at all.
"Rather risky this, running off after a sorcerer at night like this. No saying what the guy might do if he gets desperate," Ghyle, one of the other archers, said as he walked up beside Rienth. At forty, the man had been with the mercenary company longer than Rienth, though as a regular fighter rather than an archer. Unfortunately a leg injury about ten years ago had rendered him in poor shape for his former duty in the company, and so he had retrained himself to become a passable archer. Rather a pain in the ass at times really, in Rienth's oppinion. But while Ghyle was not one to stay silent about the fact that he sometimes resented that a younger man like Rienth was in charge of the archers, fortunately he did follow orders when he was supposed to.
And if Rienth was sure to hear about anything Ghyle did not agree with afterwards, he could live with that.
"Meya went to pass the word on to the others, so if Serren got the men to spare, he'll send them. Better to risk a confrontation with the sorcerer than to allow him to get away. Serren would approve even less if we allowed that to happen," Rienth replied. Now when he had gotten some time to think however, he was quite aware of that he ought to have told Meya to inform their own sorcerers. He would have to scold himself about that oversight later though, if he still had his skin once Serren was done.
With luck, Meya would have thought of that.
"Hm, and that makes going after a sorcerer with only eleven people a good idea, how?"
With a snort, Rienth turned slightly, scanning the terrain ahead of them. Rather flat, the plain was covered with grass that was yellow and wilting, giving little cover now in the middle of summer. There was a stream somewhere ahead too, little more than a black line against the darkness, occationally revealed by a brief glint where it reflected the pale light of the moon.
Still, there was no signs of the sorcerer, other than his tracks-- something that worried Rienth. With a hand signal, he gained the attention of his fellow archers. Then, after a few more quick signals, each of them had their bows ready, sending of an arrow into the dark ahead. If the sorcerer was hiding, hoping to strike back at them, they were not going to give him an easy time. If some night animal had sounded at the wrong moment though, none of the archers might have heard the faint cry of pain as one or more arrows hit someone.
Wasting no time at words, other than a quick grin to his comerades, Rienth got up into the saddle. Muttering a curse as his horse shied when he accidentally kicked it when swinging his leg over, he urged it into a slow trot. There was no saying how injured the sorcerer might be, but an arrow in any part of the body ought to be quite a distraction. With him on foot, and injured, it shouldn't be long before they caught up with him.
Seconds later, a cry from one of the archers warned everyone of that the fleeing sorcerer had been spotted. And Rienth couldn't quite hold back a smile as he watched their target struggle up on the other side of the stream less than fifty meters ahead by the looks of it. Judging by the way he moved, the sorcerer was obviously in pain, but still he stopped as he heard their approach.
Cursing, Rienth urged the horse to go faster, even as he signaled his companions to spread out. Now when they had cornered the sorcerer, it was likely that he was desperate, and only an idiot would give the bastard an easy target. The horse he was riding was by no means among the fastest, and so Rienth ended up a bit behind along with a couple of the other archers.
Turning to face them, the sorcerer clenched his fists, clearly making an effort at remaining upright. After his flight, his tunic and trousers were stained with dirt and from crawling through the stream, and an even darker stain was visible against the lighter fabric on his left side. Then his face contorted in a mix of pain and what might have been a delighted grin.
Fire, seeming impossible bright, blazed into being. And even as Rienth threw an arm up to shield his eyes, it roared towards them like some beast summoned right out of hell. Throwing itself around, his horse fled in mindless fear, all that Rienth could do was to hang on as he heard the screams of those caught in the flames. Their flight came to an abrupt end however, when the horse skidded and struggled in a vain attempt at stopping. Rienth got a glimpse of a rider right in front of them, shouting something, but then the horse was brought down by a sword through its throat.
Somehow managing to scramble off, avoiding getting stuck under the dying horse, Rienth kept his eyes at his new opponent. By the bulging sacks attached to each side of the saddle, it didn't take much thinking to realize that the other rider was one of the deserters. Whatever way the fight back at the camp was going, it was bound to be someone who saw the advantage in escaping with their lives and some of the treasure.
Well, with his sword still at a horse in its death throes, Rienth was not going to stand in his way. Fighting when having a fairly equal advantage was one thing, getting oneself killed due to blatant stupidity was quite another. Not that he didn't have his share of stupidity at times...
He spread his arms slightly, hands open to show that he had no weapons as he backed away. Chances were good that the other rider would rather get away, if not-- he would just have to prepare for a lot of running.
Clearly debating the matter with himself, the deserter let his horse take a couple of strides towards Rienth before he halted it, watching him all the time. Likewise wary of any signs of that the other was about to attack, there was a moment or two when he forgot to be wary of any possible attacks from behind.
Driven into his back with enough force to drive the air from his lungs, Rienth all too clearly felt the blade as it sliced through muscle, grating against a rib. There wasn't really much pain, yet, but all he felt able to was to gape like a fish on land in shock. Then, before he could get his lungs to work again, or even think about moving-- a vicious kick sent him sprawling at the ground.
"Thought that I would be a easy kill did you? That I would be too intent on getting away not to enjoy the opportunity to kill you? You mercenaries may have taken down my servants, but I fully intend to pay them back," the sorcerer said from somewhere nearby. Angry as he was, the sorcerer's voice was strained, and he certainly made sure to keep his distance. Clever of the bastard, Rienth thought, he would have loved to give him a good kick in return. Well, it might be a bit optimistic to think himself capable of that. Though he was beginning to be able to breathe properly again, his muscles felt strangely un-cooperative.
Also the knife in his back and the gash it had created was just starting to make themselves known...
"Obviously leaving you alive may not be the wisest choice, though as you may find soon enough, things may not be as straightforwards as that. In my time as a sorcerer in Galbatorix' army, I did make sure to put any possibly useful knowledge I found to memory. Among that were various poisons, one of which that I put on a certain knife to test on a spare horse. The effects were rather interesting if I may say so, the poor creature took several days to die, an experience that you'll soon be able to share."
There wasn't much too say, other than the obvious, so instead Rienth simply turned his head slightly to glare at the sorcerer. What he had just been told was certainly something to worry about, but he was not going to waste his breath on useless insults, no matter if he had certainly no shortage of ideas.
Laughing quietly, the sorcerer took a few steps closer, while still keeping well out of striking distance.
"Sadly I can't stay and observe, as much as the effects on a human might have been an interesting thing to study. It would be a too great risk for me to stay however, not with your company still out there and myself suffering from an unfortunate injury. So, I believe that I will have to take my leave now," the sorcerer said. Then he suddenly hesitated, as the sound of fighting in the distance reached them. Moments later, there was a shorter struggle much closer by, as the sorcerer claimed the horse of the deserter who Rienth had first encountered. It was a struggle that the mundane soldier was doomed to loose however, and it did not take long before the sorcerer was gone with his new mount.
----
Sometime very shortly after that, Rienth had to have passed out, as the next thing he registered was the faint sount of something moving nearby. Once he opened his eyes, it was quiet again for several long moments, and he allowed himself to consider his situation. There was no saying how long it had been, but it had certainly not been long enough for anyone of his fellow mercenaries to find him. Depending on how many of them that were still alive that was.
He did feel cold however, a lot colder than he ought to have been in such a relatively warm temperature, or what could be attributed to shock alone. The response of his limbs was sluggish too, and the pain from the wound in his back as he turned over on his side, the less he though about that the better. Not a easy thing to do really, as it made him wish that he could just curl up and die at the spot.
Still, he did make an attempt at gathering his thoughts, knowing that he couldn't simply lie about and wait to be found. Better to leave the knife in, as pulling it out could all too easily cause a fatal bleeding, no saying if it was close to anything fatal. He just had to make sure that he didn't move about too much.
In the next moment however, a strange chirp and a slight movement from what he had thought to be no more than one of the many rocks littering the plains caused him to freeze. Whatever it was though, was not disencouraged, and as it approached on still unsteady legs-- Rienth felt his eyes slowly widen.
Gleaming even in the pale light of the moon, the garnet-red scales covering the creature's body was his first clue. Within moments of that, he noticed the bat-like wings dragging at its sides, the stubby horns at its head and luminous eyes-- more of a yellow-orange color. Giving another chirp, it paused briefly to pick at its wing, removing something that might have been a shard from a eggshell. Then it, or what in to Rienth more and more seemed to be a juvenile dragon, tilted its head to look at him.
Having seen adult dragons at a few occations during the war, if only at a distance, it seemed almost comical to him. Parts of it was much like the adult dragons he had seen, while other parts, like the head and feet-- seemed oversized. Despite of that, Rienth could not help but feel a certain surprise despite of his situation. By what he head learned back in Alagaësia, the last dragons had died in the war. So encountering one here, even an awkward-looking hatchling one, was something that he could never have imagined.
"Well, hello there," he mumbled, managing a grin as the dragon or whatever it was regarded him with what seemed to be curiosity. Almost unconsciously, he reached out, holding his hand still right in front of the dragon for a little while as not to startly it with a sudden touch. Adding a bite to his hand to his list of injuries was something he would rather avoid. One poisoned knife in his back was quite enough.
In the end though, it was the little dragon that moved first, its jaw coming in contact with the skin of his hand as it lowered its head to sniff at him.
Pain, like nothing Rienth had even experienced, exploded through him from the point of contact. And his back arching in agony, he only managed a single scream before everything went black.