Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (13 page)

A throaty cry broke the stillness, shaking him by its proximity as he had seen or heard nothing. It must have been a signal, as at that time several other grunting cries went up and movement broke the darkness. He was against a small defile in the rock, with a jagged drop-off on the downhill side. Unfortunately, the cries and movement came from the three other directions.

Recognizing the guttural language of the Goth, he rolled away from his horse, knowing the small creatures preferred to use crossbows and sometimes spears at range, and he was both relieved and angered when he heard the clicking of several bolts and spears skipping off the ground, followed by Jester’s scream of pain. There was a brief scuffling before a soft thud as he guessed the horse fell, too fast to be caused by death only, which meant the weapons were coated with a poison of sorts.

A quick scan of his lantern found it still burning, despite its rough handling, so he hastily threw back the hood and turned it to maximum consumption. This threw a bright light along the defile, and would certainly have disoriented him for a while if he had not averted his gaze.

But it did surprise the Goth. Being creatures of the night, they had their own enhanced night vision, not the Infravision of Elves or Dwarves, who had attuned to the constant darkness of their subterranean world. Theirs was the ability to use what vague light there was to focus, making their vision not excellent in near pitch darkness, but enough to make movement (and fighting) possible. Unfortunately for them, their eyes were also that much more sensitive, so the sudden appearance of a bright light (for those who dwell in near total darkness, lantern light was like a sun), their eyes could not adapt quickly enough without causing discomfort and pain.

Andrak seized upon his opportunity, running down the shallow defile, knowing that there lay his chance of escape. Three Goth were perched there, two behind boulders, while another stood in the middle of the defile, fumbling for a crude bronze scimitar at its belt while rubbing at burning eyes. The other two were the same, though both still held their crossbows. Another Goth above the defile was recovering quickly and reaching for another spear as Andrak closed on the open Goth.

The creature saw him approach and managed to free his weapon, though it regarded him through teary eyes as it blinked furiously to try and recover its vision. To its credit, it managed an awkward attack on the Prince, perhaps in desperation, knowing how vulnerable it was.

Andrak turned the bronze weapon aside, and with a flick of the wrist ran the creature through, carefully finding a gap in its chain hauberk. It screamed in pain, jerking away from the attack, but it stumbled and fell, twitching for several moments before coming still.

Andrak turned, knowing the Goth was out of the fight and that the other three were serious threats. With a quick scan, he turned to attack the slower of the two Goth, though this was only a feint as he turned back to the other, and heard a crack of steel on stone behind him and knew that the Goth above had thrown his spear to where he thought Andrak was going.

The Goth he turned to was suffering the same affects from the light held directly before it. It panicked, having heard its companion's fate, and knowing it could not reload the crossbow in time, threw it at the Prince instead.

Cursing the unexpected attack, Andrak tried to fend the crossbow with his sword while trying to move with its force. He managed to partially deflect its force, but it slid along his longsword and caught him in the shoulder.

The blow sent him off balance, and he slid awkwardly on the rough ground, his foot slipping out from under him. He managed to retain his sword as he struck the ground, but he felt the lantern fly from his sweating grasp. He followed it with his eyes as it smashed against the ground with a popping flash, before flame began to build from the spilled oil.

This only disoriented the second Goth with the crossbow, who saw his opponent disappear behind the wall of flame. Its rage allowed it to squeeze off a shot, despite the agonizing pain, the crossbow clicking as the taut string uncoiled and loosed the quarrel.

Andrak heard the click of release over the burning oil and the howling from the other Goth charging down the defile, and turned sideways in a desperate attempt to protect his face and to offer up a narrower target, not knowing where the quarrel would come from. He felt a painful slice across his thigh and knew it had struck him, though not deeply as it passed.

Not taking time to give thanks, he spun back and rounded the fire, which even now was beginning to die down, with the flame having only sparse foliage to catch on.

Perhaps the Goth had expected its shot to strike, for it was not even bothering to reload as Andrak rounded the fire to face it. Surprise showed across its ape  like face, but it had the presence to do as its companion had only moments before, and throw its crossbow at Andrak. This one he was able to duck, not falling for the same trick twice, and as it clattered to the ground behind him, he mercilessly hacked at the Goth who tried to turn and flee. His sword cut easily through the thin chains of its armor, and it could not even cry out as it fell, obviously dead as it landed and rolled over the edge of the defile, cracking through bushes and unloosing stones as it rolled to an eventual halt.

Knowing other Goth were close, Andrak turned on them, cursing his lost light. Surprisingly, the other Goth were not advancing that quickly, perhaps waiting for the light of the fire to diminish totally. Some were reloading crossbows as they advanced, while several other Goth scaled the wall of the defile to get to him.

Seeing an opportunity, Andrak leapt to the body of the second Goth he had slain and plucked the remaining bolts from its quiver. About a dozen in total, they were fletched with what appeared to be dark feathers, and secured with thick paste and worn thread. Knowing it was his only option, he grabbed the bolts by their shafts, and careful of the dark metal tips that might have been poisoned, thrust the fletched ends into the burning oil.

With a hiss they were ignited as he scrubbed them against the oily ground, then he turned back down the defile and began to run. Whatever light it allowed him would not be great, and he needed whatever head start he could get on the Goth. They appeared to have attacked as one group, and there did not seem to be reinforcements, or at least he hoped there were not, as he started down the rough slope.

Bolts and spears skipped off the ground around him before he was out of their range, and howls of anger sprang up from the trailing Goth. He heard them continue for several moments before there was a thud and scraping of metal, and the sounds of pursuit were heard. They had obviously feared the fire, and had probably used one of their dead companions to throw on it to extinguish it enough for them to pass.

He was forced to sheathe his sword as he began his desperate flight to safety, the conditions seeing him falling and sliding almost constantly in the darkness. The bolts burnt slowly, and surprisingly for longer than he had thought, though they spluttered into dark embers with the sounds of pursuit some way back but still close enough to make him think the Goth would be upon him at any moment. He could only guess at the time, but did not think it was any later than midnight, for the Goth would presumably not want to make any attacks with the possibility of dawn coming, so it would likely be three or four hours until dawn, at least.

A louder cry from a Goth close by was cut off, making Andrak hope it had fallen, not difficult to do in these conditions, even for those who could see somewhat. Even as he thought this, a high root tripped him up. He fell, resisting the urge to throw his hands down and brace his fall, not knowing what he would land on. As it was, he rolled over rough rock several times before slamming into the bole of a tree. He considered climbing the tree, despite the burning pain of scrapes and bruises, but knew he would be an easy target for their bowmen if he were found. His only hope lay in evading them long enough for them to turn back or give up the chase.

Another cry of pain echoed through the night, followed by the sounds of a tumbling body, and he guessed another Goth had fallen. The shouts of the others, sounding like more than a dozen, made him think they were trying to warn each other of the dangers.

Yet a third crashing came, followed quickly by a fourth, and Andrak could only thank his luck and press on. His luck seemed to run out, however, as another fall wrenched his leg, and his knee would not support him as he struggled to rise. Growling against the pain, he stood, supported by a large boulder, flexing it softly to try and gain some strength, and he was able to hobble slowly, though he knew the Goth would overtake him soon, no matter how cautious they had become.

Yet more cries from back up the slope made him pause, hearing a confused note in their guttural tones, as if perhaps they had lost him. Then he realized it was not confusion, but more concern, as if they were trying to regain order. Whatever it was, they did not seem to be coming any closer to him, despite their furious barking and yelling.

“
Hurry, man. It will not last long!”

Andrak spun, or at least he wanted to, but his knee had him straining from his shifting weight and he almost fell, but managed to turn enough to see where the call had come from.

A slim figure stood at the base of a large rock cluster nearby, pressed against it as if trying to hide. It held in one hand a light, what appeared to be a glowing globe of pale orange. It cast an eerie light on the hooded figure whose clothes were of brown and dark green, and in the other hand was a curved bow easily the figure's height. The outline of a quiver and a sword were also visible at his waist.

“
Run. The Goth will be here soon. Get away while you can!” Funnily enough, Andrak did not see the person as a threat, or even a savior, alone as he was, despite the weapons.

The figure sighed and turned towards him, the face showing briefly beneath the hood in the dim light. It was a narrow face, and he thought it had appeared striking, though he had only captured it briefly.

“
The Goth are under the impression they are surrounded. Hurry, and we can be away before they realize what has happened.” The voice was obviously that of a male, though soft and musical to the ear. The figure said something else under his breath, loud enough for the Prince to hear. It was in Elvin, however, and Andrak gave a start.

“
You are an Elf!” He made a careful step towards the Elf, having recognized the Elvin words the figure had spoken, and under other circumstances he would have been offended by what the Elf had called him. “I cannot move quickly.” This he spoke in Elvin, letting the Elf know he had heard and understood what he had said. He also looked down to his leg that shook visibly in the dim light, and there were tears in his clothing showing lines of blood.

“
Then perhaps you are not as stupid as I thought,” quipped the Elf, sounding like an apology to the Prince, aware of the lighthearted nature of the Elves. “But we must still be gone. My camp is less than a mile away, and we should be able to avoid the Goth until dawn if we can make it there.”

Andrak nodded, knowing it was some hope, and he stepped towards the Elf, though he grimaced against the pain. Still, he was determined to show he could do it and forced his steps, albeit painfully.

“
Here. Keep going that way!” ordered the Elf, pressing the glowing globe into his hand and waving off down the hill where Andrak had been heading anyhow. He tentatively took the globe, expecting it to burn his hand or at least feel warm, but instead it was cool and smooth to the touch.

“
Where are you going?” he asked as the Elf stepped past him and drew an arrow from his quiver in a swift motion and nocked it into his bow. With easy steps, the Elf was leaping onto a large boulder where he loosed the arrow into the darkness. Andrak began to frown questioningly at the Elf's action, but the cry of a Goth in pain answered him and he forced himself forward.

All thoughts of the Elf vanished as he painfully fled, using the inner light of the globe in his hand to focus occasionally as the pain built like the rolling ocean pounding at a rocky shore. It was a miracle he did not trip and fall, though he probably would have soon enough when a supporting hand grasped him under the shoulder.

“
Not far to go now, Kal'blis.” Meaning ‘friend’, this seemed to give Andrak hope as renewed strength came to him, though still the pain seemed unbearable. He felt his vision fading, becoming blurred, and he wondered why he was so tired, considering the pain he was feeling and the rush he should have felt from the blood and adrenalin coursing through his veins. The pain did fade, however, like it had struck a wall, but threatening to break through with renewed intensity. The Goth also seemed to fade from hearing, though the Elf urged him along constantly. Or at least that is what he thought the Elf was saying, the words soon becoming incoherent to his sleepy mind.

Soon, all feeling began to fade from his body, and he wondered how he was still moving, causing him to marvel at the phenomenon. He thought he might have been dreaming then, the gloom around him appearing non corporeal, and with a sigh he let himself fall into the dream as Darkness surrounded him.

The smell of cooking (almost as beautiful as that which had filled one of his dreams), woke Andrak slowly to pale light, sleep trying to retain its hold on him as he struggled to shrug it off like a damp cloak.

He noticed instantly that he was in a small cave, arched at the roof several feet overhead where a crack disappeared upwards and ran along the length of the ten  foot grotto. He looked around in confusion, only partially remembering what had happened to him before he had slept, but he remembered his fight and flight from the Goth and the appearance of the Elf who had helped him. There was no sign of this mysterious stranger, though there was a small mound of glowing embers inside a ring of stones nearby, and beside that a pile of gear covered by a blanket. A thin strip of sunlight was visible at the far end of the cave, dampened by what appeared to be a lattice of branches and vines.