A/N: My thanks to JK for her inspiring reviews! Thank you for taking the time to review my little fic :)
Chapter 4: A Scuffle....
They rode out an hour later, Wolfshead riding just ahead of the other two. He seemed lost in thought, and they didn't wish to disturb him. It seemed to them that he was carrying the sorrows of the whole world on his shoulders.
"What's up with him, do you reckon?" Ron whispered to Harry.
"Don't know. But I think he had a bad dream last night," Harry replied.
"A dream? But dreams don't usually affect you like that, do they?" Wolfshead stopped and turned around in the saddle to face them.
"My friend, be grateful you never have to experience the sort of dreams I have," he replied, wistfully. Ron could see the torture in his eyes, and wisely let the matter drop.
They rode on in silence for the next hour, Wolfshead always slightly out in front, scanning the horizon. He seemed alert, composed, and Harry noticed that he always rode with one hand resting on his crossbow.
"Why so careful?" he asked, riding up alongside Draco.
"Expect the best and prepare for the worst," replied Wolfshead. He stopped the horse suddenly, eyes flicking to the passes in the mountains ahead.
"How long do you think it would take us to ride to that clump of trees over there?" he asked, pointing.
"At full speed? About ten minutes," replied Ron. Wolfshead swore.
"How about that line of rocks there?" Ron looked to where he was pointing.
"About a minute. But you don't want to go down there, it's a deep valley and virtually impossible to navigate."
"That'll do," replied Wolfshead, spurring his mount on towards the drop. "Just follow me, you'll be alright."
"Draco, why..." began Harry, but the answer was instantly obvious; an arrow embedded itself in the ground where Draco's horse had been a second ago. Harry and Ron urged their horses into a run and followed Draco down into the valley.
They picked their way slowly down the steep slope, looking out for Draco. They couldn't see him, and Harry thought for one awful moment that he had fallen.
"Pssst! In here!" They turned to see Wolfshead beckoning them from a small cave on a small ledge that was almost invisible from above. They followed him inside.
"Where did they come from?" demanded Ron.
"The Amaziga Pass," replied Wolfshead, moving to the mouth of the cave and sliding two crossbow bolts into place.
"What? How..." began Ron. Wolfshead placed his finger on his lips; the men were making their way over the top of the cliff. He made to move off.
"You're going out to meet them?" hissed Harry. Wolfshead rounded on him.
"Have you got a better plan?" he demanded.
"Why did you run if you were going to face them?"
"I didn't want to be pierced by an arrow, that sort of thing really puts a crimp in your day!"
"You'll get killed!" Wolfshead laughed, the sound cold and mocking.
"I've said before, I am very difficult to kill. We'll have more chance if I go out there than if they come in here. Just trust me, Harry." Without another word he strode from the cave, leaving the other two to stare after him.
"Good day, gentlemen, I trust you are well?" he greeted. The leader stepped down to meet him. He was fairly tall and lean built. His face was handsome, but had a mean, cold pinch to it, and a cruel, thin mouth that quite spoilt it. His cold, black eyes glittered with malice. Draco knew that this man was a killer. He also noted that his hands were always by his sides, where a couple of pistols were holstered.
"This is not the time for such niceties, Wolfshead!" he spat. "I am here to avenge the death of my brother, Lord Osir!" Draco lost the smile that had been on his face moments later, and it was quickly replaced by a harsh frown.
"Camran Osir was scum of the worst kind!" he hissed.
"You killed him! Shot him in the back while he was in his garden, you murderous traitor!"
"I? Murderous?" Wolfshead laughed. "He gave the order for a thousand children to be sacrificed! And I know you, Polian Osir. You who live for rape, torture and murder. What I have done in my life pales in comparison!"
"You whoreson!" screamed Polian, going for his guns. But Wolfshead was faster, and Polian was dead before he'd got his pistols clear.
The other five riders surged forward in attack. Wolfshead drew his sword and parried a lunge from the first. He spun on his heel and sent a clean swipe through the man's jugular. He pitched forward, and the second ran in. Wolfshead dived as the man shot at him. The bullet just grazed his arm. He sent his remaining crossbow bolt through the man's right eye, and turned to face the other three with his sword.
They circled him and attacked at the same time. Wolfshead blocked and parried, hoping desperately for one of them to make a foolish move that he could exploit. But they were all highly skilled swordsmen, and it was going to be a tough fight.
He could see more people appearing at the edge of the scree. He swore, then saw out of the corner of his eye Harry and Ron taking up weapons and racing to meet them. At least, Harry was racing to meet them. Ron was standing stock-still, as if too terrified to move. Draco swore again, and parried a thrust aiming for his neck. He turned his attention back to the immediate difficulty of the men trying to hack him to pieces.
He managed to fell one of them by a lucky blow to the belly. The other two closed in on him, as they forced him back nearer and nearer to the edge. He was beginning to tire now, and he could see the light of triumph beginning to shine in their eyes. He lunged for the nearest one, surprising him, which meant he parried clumsily, and received a deep gash in the thigh. Wolfshead lunged again, this time succeeding in stabbing the youngster in the groin. A blood-curdling scream sounded from his right, surprising him, allowing the remaining man to get close enough to push him over the edge.
He gripped the ledge with his hands and tried to pull himself up. A foot closed down on his left hand, and he looked up into the face of the remaining assailant. The man managed to kick Wolfshead's left hand away, and he twisted and swung over the treacherous drop. His eyes were searching for a shelf or a bush, something to grab on to for when the assailant kicked his remaining hand away. But he could focus on nothing, save for the valley floor.
He looked up again into the eyes of the man intending to kill him. A twisted grin adorned his features.
And was still in place when he pitched forward, an arrow jutting from the back of his head.
Chapter 4: A Scuffle....
They rode out an hour later, Wolfshead riding just ahead of the other two. He seemed lost in thought, and they didn't wish to disturb him. It seemed to them that he was carrying the sorrows of the whole world on his shoulders.
"What's up with him, do you reckon?" Ron whispered to Harry.
"Don't know. But I think he had a bad dream last night," Harry replied.
"A dream? But dreams don't usually affect you like that, do they?" Wolfshead stopped and turned around in the saddle to face them.
"My friend, be grateful you never have to experience the sort of dreams I have," he replied, wistfully. Ron could see the torture in his eyes, and wisely let the matter drop.
They rode on in silence for the next hour, Wolfshead always slightly out in front, scanning the horizon. He seemed alert, composed, and Harry noticed that he always rode with one hand resting on his crossbow.
"Why so careful?" he asked, riding up alongside Draco.
"Expect the best and prepare for the worst," replied Wolfshead. He stopped the horse suddenly, eyes flicking to the passes in the mountains ahead.
"How long do you think it would take us to ride to that clump of trees over there?" he asked, pointing.
"At full speed? About ten minutes," replied Ron. Wolfshead swore.
"How about that line of rocks there?" Ron looked to where he was pointing.
"About a minute. But you don't want to go down there, it's a deep valley and virtually impossible to navigate."
"That'll do," replied Wolfshead, spurring his mount on towards the drop. "Just follow me, you'll be alright."
"Draco, why..." began Harry, but the answer was instantly obvious; an arrow embedded itself in the ground where Draco's horse had been a second ago. Harry and Ron urged their horses into a run and followed Draco down into the valley.
They picked their way slowly down the steep slope, looking out for Draco. They couldn't see him, and Harry thought for one awful moment that he had fallen.
"Pssst! In here!" They turned to see Wolfshead beckoning them from a small cave on a small ledge that was almost invisible from above. They followed him inside.
"Where did they come from?" demanded Ron.
"The Amaziga Pass," replied Wolfshead, moving to the mouth of the cave and sliding two crossbow bolts into place.
"What? How..." began Ron. Wolfshead placed his finger on his lips; the men were making their way over the top of the cliff. He made to move off.
"You're going out to meet them?" hissed Harry. Wolfshead rounded on him.
"Have you got a better plan?" he demanded.
"Why did you run if you were going to face them?"
"I didn't want to be pierced by an arrow, that sort of thing really puts a crimp in your day!"
"You'll get killed!" Wolfshead laughed, the sound cold and mocking.
"I've said before, I am very difficult to kill. We'll have more chance if I go out there than if they come in here. Just trust me, Harry." Without another word he strode from the cave, leaving the other two to stare after him.
"Good day, gentlemen, I trust you are well?" he greeted. The leader stepped down to meet him. He was fairly tall and lean built. His face was handsome, but had a mean, cold pinch to it, and a cruel, thin mouth that quite spoilt it. His cold, black eyes glittered with malice. Draco knew that this man was a killer. He also noted that his hands were always by his sides, where a couple of pistols were holstered.
"This is not the time for such niceties, Wolfshead!" he spat. "I am here to avenge the death of my brother, Lord Osir!" Draco lost the smile that had been on his face moments later, and it was quickly replaced by a harsh frown.
"Camran Osir was scum of the worst kind!" he hissed.
"You killed him! Shot him in the back while he was in his garden, you murderous traitor!"
"I? Murderous?" Wolfshead laughed. "He gave the order for a thousand children to be sacrificed! And I know you, Polian Osir. You who live for rape, torture and murder. What I have done in my life pales in comparison!"
"You whoreson!" screamed Polian, going for his guns. But Wolfshead was faster, and Polian was dead before he'd got his pistols clear.
The other five riders surged forward in attack. Wolfshead drew his sword and parried a lunge from the first. He spun on his heel and sent a clean swipe through the man's jugular. He pitched forward, and the second ran in. Wolfshead dived as the man shot at him. The bullet just grazed his arm. He sent his remaining crossbow bolt through the man's right eye, and turned to face the other three with his sword.
They circled him and attacked at the same time. Wolfshead blocked and parried, hoping desperately for one of them to make a foolish move that he could exploit. But they were all highly skilled swordsmen, and it was going to be a tough fight.
He could see more people appearing at the edge of the scree. He swore, then saw out of the corner of his eye Harry and Ron taking up weapons and racing to meet them. At least, Harry was racing to meet them. Ron was standing stock-still, as if too terrified to move. Draco swore again, and parried a thrust aiming for his neck. He turned his attention back to the immediate difficulty of the men trying to hack him to pieces.
He managed to fell one of them by a lucky blow to the belly. The other two closed in on him, as they forced him back nearer and nearer to the edge. He was beginning to tire now, and he could see the light of triumph beginning to shine in their eyes. He lunged for the nearest one, surprising him, which meant he parried clumsily, and received a deep gash in the thigh. Wolfshead lunged again, this time succeeding in stabbing the youngster in the groin. A blood-curdling scream sounded from his right, surprising him, allowing the remaining man to get close enough to push him over the edge.
He gripped the ledge with his hands and tried to pull himself up. A foot closed down on his left hand, and he looked up into the face of the remaining assailant. The man managed to kick Wolfshead's left hand away, and he twisted and swung over the treacherous drop. His eyes were searching for a shelf or a bush, something to grab on to for when the assailant kicked his remaining hand away. But he could focus on nothing, save for the valley floor.
He looked up again into the eyes of the man intending to kill him. A twisted grin adorned his features.
And was still in place when he pitched forward, an arrow jutting from the back of his head.