A Northern Town
By Alekto
Chapter 2 - I never thought I would owe my life to mud.
We left Port Wylde the next morning, huddled in travelling cloaks against the driving rain. Everything around was grey and murky and cold. In the South, rain was a blessing: cool relief against the blistering heat, washing the cities clean of dust and sand. Here, all the rain accomplished was to turn the trail into an oozing morass, churned by the horses' hooves.
Between us we had seven horses and four mules. I considered myself a fair judge of horseflesh, and I had to acknowledge that these Northern horses were nowhere near as poor as I had once believed. Koronin and Thoran rode warhorses, not the huge, ponderous beasts I had imagined, but nonetheless solidly built, stocky creatures, neither of them taller than 16hh. Thoran rode, as I had expected, with the grace of a true cavalryman, as if the horse was as much a part of him as was his sword arm. Of the rest of us, Prakesh and Mheng spent more time afoot than on horseback, flanking us on each side. Koronin was at the front of the group while Thoran brought up the rear. The two wizards and I travelled in the middle of this box along with the mules.
The days passed and soon lapsed into a familiar routine. The salt smell of the sea was quickly left behind as we headed inland, following the course of the Wolf river on whose estuary Port Wylde was sited. I had been told that the journey would take some two weeks, the first going through the lightly wooded coastal plain where there were occasional farms and homesteads, before the trees thickened and we would be into the great forests that covered Gormund. In the evenings as we set up camp, Koronin and Thoran would spar, as warriors do. Both were matched in skill, but Thoran had the edge in strength. Mheng and Prakesh would occasionally join in, more often empty handed than with any weapon. Prakesh certainly seemed to disdain to carry a weapon. Their fighting styles were generally dissimilar, but both were reliant on speed and accuracy.
We met few other travellers on the trail. Those we did encounter were mostly refugees from the settlements, fleeing to the sanctuary offered by the walls of Port Wylde. The expressions of despair on their faces did not engender confidence.
****
Six days had passed uneventfully and I had begun to hope that the dangers warned of back in the City were no more than hysteria and a few scattered raids. Intellectually I knew that the next week when we were into the thick forest would be most likely when any danger would strike. I was musing on this when it came to my attention that something was wrong. I looked left and right, expecting to see the reassuring sight of Prakesh and Mheng, but saw no-one. From ahead I could hear the faint 'clunk-clunk- clunk' of the cranequin with which Koronin was pulling back the cable on her powerful crossbow. Behind me I heard another 'click' and glanced round to see Thoran had taken up his own, lighter, crossbow and was drawing back the wire by hand.
"Get down!" murmurered Eric to me, as both he and Sarhar dismounted. I hurriedly obliged.
"Anything?" Koronin called back without turning her head. Her horse was stood still as she scrutinised the trail ahead of us, searching for something, anything. I glanced over at Eric, wondering if it was he who should have been answering Koronin's interrogatory. A surprising change had come over him. Gone was the amiable, slightly clumsy figure whom I had chatted to on the trail. A frown of concentration was on his face and he looked for the first time like someone I did not want to upset. Sarhar too was altered. A thin wand which had been tucked in her belt was held lightly in her hand as her eyes flickered from tree to tree, watching for any threat. Around both of them there seemed to blaze an almost tangible aura of Power.
"There's something on the trail in front of us - it's too diffuse to be any more specific," said Eric.
"Invisibility magic?" speculated Sarhar. Eric did not answer.
From ahead I could hear a snort of sardonic amusement from Koronin, then her voice: low, acerbic, mocking. "You may be invisible, my friend, but your footsteps aren't."
I looked down, for the first time grateful for the endless sea of mud that was the trail. Koronin's crossbow was levelled and aimed at a seemingly arbitrary point ahead of us. In the tree line to left and right I thought I could make out a pair of dark shapes drifting noiselessly from shadow to shadow. I moved to try to get a better view of what was going on. I had taken barely two steps when I felt something tug briefly at the loose sleeve of my djellaba. Instinctively I looked to see what it had been and felt a sudden wetness running down my arm. Blood. Mine. I froze, not knowing what to do. Being attacked far so far out of my sphere of experience. I was probably standing there, gaping, when a hand dragged me unceremoniously behind the cover offered by the horses.
"What the hell do you think you were doing, you bloody fool? Trying to get yourself killed?" Eric's voice held a censure that was unmistakable. I did not think he had been motivated by any real concern for my well-being, rather that it was his job to protect me.
From ahead I heard Koronin call out again: "Show yourself! This doesn't have to end in your death. We know close enough where you are, and there's no way you can dodge a fireball."
There were tense moments of silence as nothing stirred save the occasional swish of a horse's tail. Then, in front of us a human figure shimmered into existence. He was dressed much as I was, but his djellaba was plain and dark, and on his face.. "Merciful Gods!" I muttered, as I recognised the facial tattoos of a sect I had only read about, a sect I had been warned about, a sect who wanted me dead. "He's an assassin!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the fear from my voice. "Kill him! You cannot allow him to live, or He'll find out where I am and send more of his servants to kill me. Please, hurry, kill him now, I beg of you."
The next sound I heard was the dull 'thunk' of a crossbow bolt being fired, and the would-be assassin twisted and crumpled to the ground. What happened next might have been rehearsed a dozen times and not looked so automatic. Koronin and Thoran swung their horses round on guard for any more attacks. Prakesh and Mheng never broke cover, waiting to see if their involvement would be needed while Eric and Sarhar moved forward to examine the corpse and its clothing with an admirable thoroughness. The end result was a small haul of throwing knives, a long bladed curved dagger, some sundry coins and a ring. Eric declared the ring to have magical properties, put it on, and faded from view. Seconds later, he reappeared, caught in the act of removing the ring. "Useful," was his only comment.
Once the examination was complete, they regrouped. Koronin studied the tattoos on the face of the corpse and looked at me with deceptive mildness. "Something you want to tell us about, Alef?" she asked. "We can protect you better if we have some idea about who might want you dead."
"He's a member of a cult of assassins with whom we have.. ideological differences. I was warned that there was a chance I would be targeted due to my travelling to K'Dhul." I hoped she would miss the hesitation, but the appraising look she gave me suggested she had not. I appreciated what she had done on nothing more tangible than my word. A part of me wished I could tell her more, but there were still some secrets that I would not reveal if I did not have to.
"I have heard it said often by those in power, that what you don't know can't hurt you. I long ago discovered that it's what people don't know that most often ends up getting them killed," said Koronin. There was no recrimination in her voice, just a warning and I accepted it as such.
****
Two days later and we were in forest so dense I wondered that anything could move through it. The wide trail we had set out on from Port Wylde had narrowed to a rutted track, barely wide enough for a single cart. Here and there the forest thinned out for a few dozen yards before closing in again, seemingly thicker than before. The sky was a leaden grey, heavy clouds sometimes seeming low enough to cover the tops of the tall pines and firs that stretched high above. There were still occasional broad-leafed trees here and there but ever fewer as we headed northward. Even at midday, the forest floor was swathed in a perpetual twilight that darkened quickly into impenetrable blackness as night fell. To me the forest was heavy, oppressive, threatening.
The attack when it came was sudden enough that I think even my guides and protectors were for a moment caught unawares. We were in one of the more open parts of the forest when it happened. A hail of arrows came at us from both sides. I heard the shrill screams of wounded horses as I gracelessly left my saddle to seek what shelter I could on the ground.
Then I heard Koronin's voice shouting orders as she struggled to control her plunging mount: "Eric! Sarhar! Take them out - left and right!" I glanced in the wizards' direction, and as before could see the corona of power around each as they summoned up Power. Moments later the dimness of the track was gone as the forest to both sides exploded in flames. I could hear screams of pain before they transformed into holws of rage. I caught a brief glimpse of an alarmed expression cross Eric's face as he put on his newly acquired ring and vanished.
For her part, Sarhar pulled out the wand she carried, and pointed it at the dimly seen figures charging at us through the clearing the fire had suddenly created. She muttered something I could not make out and bolt of blinding white energy flared from the wand, striking her attacker. It staggered them but they recovered themselves and continued towards us. I looked at her for instructions, inspiration, anything that might offer us an escape. The expression on her face was more one of petty annoyance rather than the fear I would have expected. She waited until our attackers were nearly upon us, then gestured haughtily. The clearing once again exploded into flame, but this time our would-be attackers had been stopped for good.
The thunder of hooves and a wordless battlecry gave me ample warning of Thoran's approach. I turned and got my first real glimpse of our attackers. They looked like the barbarian tribesmen I had seen back in Port Wylde, tall, powerfully built, lightly armoured but wielding immense axes and swords as if they were nothing weightier than daggers or hatchets. The shortest of them could not have been less than six feet tall. Thoran had charged a trio who had been about to attack Sarhar and I from behind. His horse crashed into one, knocking him to the ground. The others struck indiscriminately, unworried whether they hit horse or man. At Thoran's urging, the horse spun on its haunches as he leaned over and almost negligently swung down at one of the barbarians with his flail. The effect was astounding - the man dropped without a sound, felled by a singe blow. He struck again, keeping the horse moving. The warhorse for its part reared and lashed out with steel shod hooves. Another barbarian fell.
At the head of the party I could see Koronin fighting on foot having, for whatever reason, eschewed fighting from horseback. She fought with an unhurried economy of movement, her slight form was dwarfed by the bulk of her two attackers. I thought for sure that she would fall unless one of the others came to her assistance. I looked for Prakesh and Mheng but could not see them. The dearth of barbarian reinforcements from the forest offered a clue as to their employment in the fight. I returned my gaze to Koronin, thinking to offer what little assistance I could. As I watched, I saw one of her opponents reel away, blood pouring from his side. The other was soon dropped as she drove her blade into his torso.
I looked at her face, spattered by her opponents' blood and saw nothing there: no hint of anger or remorse or even satisfaction, just a controlled stillness. She looked at me, her eyes met mine, and in that moment she was more terrifying than all the barbarians who had attacked us. I could not help but look away first, my gaze passed to the others and a part of me feared what I would see. Only in Thoran's face could I make out the faint glimmer of what might have been regret. I could not help but wonder what had happened to these people that seemed to have scourged from them any human feeling.
The aftermath of the failed ambush was all around: littered weapons and littered corpses. Mheng and Prakesh reappeared from the forest, each with bloodied hands that told of their part in the fight. Thoran dismounted and went to check the horses for injuries. I could see Eric again, the ring no longer on his finger. It amazed me when I thought about it how little we had suffered from the ambush. Koronin and Thoran bore only minor wounds as did three of the horses. My bodyguards were turning out to be far more efficient than I had imagined. It made me think I might have a chance of reaching K'Dhul alive.
Then the ground started shaking.
TBC
By Alekto
Chapter 2 - I never thought I would owe my life to mud.
We left Port Wylde the next morning, huddled in travelling cloaks against the driving rain. Everything around was grey and murky and cold. In the South, rain was a blessing: cool relief against the blistering heat, washing the cities clean of dust and sand. Here, all the rain accomplished was to turn the trail into an oozing morass, churned by the horses' hooves.
Between us we had seven horses and four mules. I considered myself a fair judge of horseflesh, and I had to acknowledge that these Northern horses were nowhere near as poor as I had once believed. Koronin and Thoran rode warhorses, not the huge, ponderous beasts I had imagined, but nonetheless solidly built, stocky creatures, neither of them taller than 16hh. Thoran rode, as I had expected, with the grace of a true cavalryman, as if the horse was as much a part of him as was his sword arm. Of the rest of us, Prakesh and Mheng spent more time afoot than on horseback, flanking us on each side. Koronin was at the front of the group while Thoran brought up the rear. The two wizards and I travelled in the middle of this box along with the mules.
The days passed and soon lapsed into a familiar routine. The salt smell of the sea was quickly left behind as we headed inland, following the course of the Wolf river on whose estuary Port Wylde was sited. I had been told that the journey would take some two weeks, the first going through the lightly wooded coastal plain where there were occasional farms and homesteads, before the trees thickened and we would be into the great forests that covered Gormund. In the evenings as we set up camp, Koronin and Thoran would spar, as warriors do. Both were matched in skill, but Thoran had the edge in strength. Mheng and Prakesh would occasionally join in, more often empty handed than with any weapon. Prakesh certainly seemed to disdain to carry a weapon. Their fighting styles were generally dissimilar, but both were reliant on speed and accuracy.
We met few other travellers on the trail. Those we did encounter were mostly refugees from the settlements, fleeing to the sanctuary offered by the walls of Port Wylde. The expressions of despair on their faces did not engender confidence.
****
Six days had passed uneventfully and I had begun to hope that the dangers warned of back in the City were no more than hysteria and a few scattered raids. Intellectually I knew that the next week when we were into the thick forest would be most likely when any danger would strike. I was musing on this when it came to my attention that something was wrong. I looked left and right, expecting to see the reassuring sight of Prakesh and Mheng, but saw no-one. From ahead I could hear the faint 'clunk-clunk- clunk' of the cranequin with which Koronin was pulling back the cable on her powerful crossbow. Behind me I heard another 'click' and glanced round to see Thoran had taken up his own, lighter, crossbow and was drawing back the wire by hand.
"Get down!" murmurered Eric to me, as both he and Sarhar dismounted. I hurriedly obliged.
"Anything?" Koronin called back without turning her head. Her horse was stood still as she scrutinised the trail ahead of us, searching for something, anything. I glanced over at Eric, wondering if it was he who should have been answering Koronin's interrogatory. A surprising change had come over him. Gone was the amiable, slightly clumsy figure whom I had chatted to on the trail. A frown of concentration was on his face and he looked for the first time like someone I did not want to upset. Sarhar too was altered. A thin wand which had been tucked in her belt was held lightly in her hand as her eyes flickered from tree to tree, watching for any threat. Around both of them there seemed to blaze an almost tangible aura of Power.
"There's something on the trail in front of us - it's too diffuse to be any more specific," said Eric.
"Invisibility magic?" speculated Sarhar. Eric did not answer.
From ahead I could hear a snort of sardonic amusement from Koronin, then her voice: low, acerbic, mocking. "You may be invisible, my friend, but your footsteps aren't."
I looked down, for the first time grateful for the endless sea of mud that was the trail. Koronin's crossbow was levelled and aimed at a seemingly arbitrary point ahead of us. In the tree line to left and right I thought I could make out a pair of dark shapes drifting noiselessly from shadow to shadow. I moved to try to get a better view of what was going on. I had taken barely two steps when I felt something tug briefly at the loose sleeve of my djellaba. Instinctively I looked to see what it had been and felt a sudden wetness running down my arm. Blood. Mine. I froze, not knowing what to do. Being attacked far so far out of my sphere of experience. I was probably standing there, gaping, when a hand dragged me unceremoniously behind the cover offered by the horses.
"What the hell do you think you were doing, you bloody fool? Trying to get yourself killed?" Eric's voice held a censure that was unmistakable. I did not think he had been motivated by any real concern for my well-being, rather that it was his job to protect me.
From ahead I heard Koronin call out again: "Show yourself! This doesn't have to end in your death. We know close enough where you are, and there's no way you can dodge a fireball."
There were tense moments of silence as nothing stirred save the occasional swish of a horse's tail. Then, in front of us a human figure shimmered into existence. He was dressed much as I was, but his djellaba was plain and dark, and on his face.. "Merciful Gods!" I muttered, as I recognised the facial tattoos of a sect I had only read about, a sect I had been warned about, a sect who wanted me dead. "He's an assassin!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the fear from my voice. "Kill him! You cannot allow him to live, or He'll find out where I am and send more of his servants to kill me. Please, hurry, kill him now, I beg of you."
The next sound I heard was the dull 'thunk' of a crossbow bolt being fired, and the would-be assassin twisted and crumpled to the ground. What happened next might have been rehearsed a dozen times and not looked so automatic. Koronin and Thoran swung their horses round on guard for any more attacks. Prakesh and Mheng never broke cover, waiting to see if their involvement would be needed while Eric and Sarhar moved forward to examine the corpse and its clothing with an admirable thoroughness. The end result was a small haul of throwing knives, a long bladed curved dagger, some sundry coins and a ring. Eric declared the ring to have magical properties, put it on, and faded from view. Seconds later, he reappeared, caught in the act of removing the ring. "Useful," was his only comment.
Once the examination was complete, they regrouped. Koronin studied the tattoos on the face of the corpse and looked at me with deceptive mildness. "Something you want to tell us about, Alef?" she asked. "We can protect you better if we have some idea about who might want you dead."
"He's a member of a cult of assassins with whom we have.. ideological differences. I was warned that there was a chance I would be targeted due to my travelling to K'Dhul." I hoped she would miss the hesitation, but the appraising look she gave me suggested she had not. I appreciated what she had done on nothing more tangible than my word. A part of me wished I could tell her more, but there were still some secrets that I would not reveal if I did not have to.
"I have heard it said often by those in power, that what you don't know can't hurt you. I long ago discovered that it's what people don't know that most often ends up getting them killed," said Koronin. There was no recrimination in her voice, just a warning and I accepted it as such.
****
Two days later and we were in forest so dense I wondered that anything could move through it. The wide trail we had set out on from Port Wylde had narrowed to a rutted track, barely wide enough for a single cart. Here and there the forest thinned out for a few dozen yards before closing in again, seemingly thicker than before. The sky was a leaden grey, heavy clouds sometimes seeming low enough to cover the tops of the tall pines and firs that stretched high above. There were still occasional broad-leafed trees here and there but ever fewer as we headed northward. Even at midday, the forest floor was swathed in a perpetual twilight that darkened quickly into impenetrable blackness as night fell. To me the forest was heavy, oppressive, threatening.
The attack when it came was sudden enough that I think even my guides and protectors were for a moment caught unawares. We were in one of the more open parts of the forest when it happened. A hail of arrows came at us from both sides. I heard the shrill screams of wounded horses as I gracelessly left my saddle to seek what shelter I could on the ground.
Then I heard Koronin's voice shouting orders as she struggled to control her plunging mount: "Eric! Sarhar! Take them out - left and right!" I glanced in the wizards' direction, and as before could see the corona of power around each as they summoned up Power. Moments later the dimness of the track was gone as the forest to both sides exploded in flames. I could hear screams of pain before they transformed into holws of rage. I caught a brief glimpse of an alarmed expression cross Eric's face as he put on his newly acquired ring and vanished.
For her part, Sarhar pulled out the wand she carried, and pointed it at the dimly seen figures charging at us through the clearing the fire had suddenly created. She muttered something I could not make out and bolt of blinding white energy flared from the wand, striking her attacker. It staggered them but they recovered themselves and continued towards us. I looked at her for instructions, inspiration, anything that might offer us an escape. The expression on her face was more one of petty annoyance rather than the fear I would have expected. She waited until our attackers were nearly upon us, then gestured haughtily. The clearing once again exploded into flame, but this time our would-be attackers had been stopped for good.
The thunder of hooves and a wordless battlecry gave me ample warning of Thoran's approach. I turned and got my first real glimpse of our attackers. They looked like the barbarian tribesmen I had seen back in Port Wylde, tall, powerfully built, lightly armoured but wielding immense axes and swords as if they were nothing weightier than daggers or hatchets. The shortest of them could not have been less than six feet tall. Thoran had charged a trio who had been about to attack Sarhar and I from behind. His horse crashed into one, knocking him to the ground. The others struck indiscriminately, unworried whether they hit horse or man. At Thoran's urging, the horse spun on its haunches as he leaned over and almost negligently swung down at one of the barbarians with his flail. The effect was astounding - the man dropped without a sound, felled by a singe blow. He struck again, keeping the horse moving. The warhorse for its part reared and lashed out with steel shod hooves. Another barbarian fell.
At the head of the party I could see Koronin fighting on foot having, for whatever reason, eschewed fighting from horseback. She fought with an unhurried economy of movement, her slight form was dwarfed by the bulk of her two attackers. I thought for sure that she would fall unless one of the others came to her assistance. I looked for Prakesh and Mheng but could not see them. The dearth of barbarian reinforcements from the forest offered a clue as to their employment in the fight. I returned my gaze to Koronin, thinking to offer what little assistance I could. As I watched, I saw one of her opponents reel away, blood pouring from his side. The other was soon dropped as she drove her blade into his torso.
I looked at her face, spattered by her opponents' blood and saw nothing there: no hint of anger or remorse or even satisfaction, just a controlled stillness. She looked at me, her eyes met mine, and in that moment she was more terrifying than all the barbarians who had attacked us. I could not help but look away first, my gaze passed to the others and a part of me feared what I would see. Only in Thoran's face could I make out the faint glimmer of what might have been regret. I could not help but wonder what had happened to these people that seemed to have scourged from them any human feeling.
The aftermath of the failed ambush was all around: littered weapons and littered corpses. Mheng and Prakesh reappeared from the forest, each with bloodied hands that told of their part in the fight. Thoran dismounted and went to check the horses for injuries. I could see Eric again, the ring no longer on his finger. It amazed me when I thought about it how little we had suffered from the ambush. Koronin and Thoran bore only minor wounds as did three of the horses. My bodyguards were turning out to be far more efficient than I had imagined. It made me think I might have a chance of reaching K'Dhul alive.
Then the ground started shaking.
TBC