The Silver Arrow (9 page)

So when Tremay leaped over his
companions’ heads, it forced the Agoras to look up, giving the
Ackalan in front a quick opening to strike. They did this, picking
up their pace even faster as they made their way toward Iseac.

Tremay knew Iseac was as good
as dead if they did not make it to him on time.

Iseac felt the same thing at
that instant and glanced up to see two creatures wrapped in shadow
drop from the sky, landing with a thud several feet from him. Their
weight broke pieces of earth and one of them landed on an Agora,
crushing it underfoot.

With their winged arms in front
of them barely touching the ground, they rose from their crouched
positions, fixing their eyes on their intended target.

They moved slowly toward Iseac.
As they did, something began to happen to their form. Like bubbling
lava, the black tar that was their skin shift in and out of itself
till they took on the shape of women. Both creatures appeared
dressed in silky black gowns with the same color band at the waist.
Their faces were unnaturally smooth and pale, with eyes that were
black, like their hair, which was loose and extended just below
their shoulder. Their faces were haunting, like those from a
nightmare, and the only distinguishing feature between the two
creatures were the gems that rested on their foreheads.

As they walked toward Iseac, an
Ackalan charged one of them with his sword, swinging and twisting
his hands with amazing speed. The creature that was now in the form
of a woman sinuously dodged his blows and then rushed into him,
pinning both his hands.

At that minute, Iseac could
almost hear the Ackalan’s heart beating as the creature slid her
hand to his head and twisted. It snapped the Ackalan’s neck as
Iseac watched the man’s weapon slide from his hand. The creature
released her grip on him, letting the lifeless body drop to the
ground.

Iseac’s heart started racing
fast, not just from exhaustion, but from the uncertainty of what he
needed to do next. He had just seen an Ackalan killed in front of
him, treated like a mouse attacked by an eagle. He wasn’t sure he
could fight his way past the creatures in front of him.

In the corner of his eye, he
saw Tremay approaching with three of his men. They were leaping
over the heads of the Agoras, trying to cut them off in the air as
they made their way toward him; but, he at that moment, felt alone.
It was like being on a stage, and these creatures were the only two
present, watching and waiting.

“You cannot escape,” one of the
women said in a voice he could barely make out.

The other continued, “We know
who you are and we’ve come for it.”

“Give us the amulet,” the first
one said

“And we shall consider letting
you live,” the other said.

They spoke as one as if reading
the other’s thoughts, which allowed them to finish each other’s
sentences, Iseac noticed.

Their tone was the
same−unnaturally distant and empty of any feeling. It sent a cold
chill along Iseac’s spine.

“Your demands mean nothing to
me, and what you seek I cannot give,” Iseac replied. He was trying
to hold the fear back at the edge of his words, but his eyes were
fixed on both women.

Concentrating, Iseac set off
the amulet on his chest; as it came to life, he chanted a few words
in his mind as one of the creatures spoke.

“You humans waste your
meaningless life, seeking a greater purpose, hoping to become
something greater than the bugs you are that should be trampled
underfoot,” said the woman with the red gem. Both of them pulled
out black spears that appeared as if drawn from within the
darkness.

They both moved with unnatural
speed, blotting the distance between them and Iseac, and the one
with the red gem thrust her spear at Iseac. He leaned back almost
in a bridge, using his quarterstaff for support. The spear missed
its target by an inch.

As Iseac rose from the bridge,
he shifted to his left, pushing the energy he had gathered along
the weight of his quarterstaff. As he swung his right hand out, he
sent a solid mass of air in their direction. The force from the
impact pushed both ladies back, leaving skid marks along the ground
to the point where they stopped, but they managed to maintain their
balance. Agoras close to them were thrown backward.

They realized he wasn’t going
to be as easy a prey as they had thought, and they both grinned at
the challenge as they came back charging, but this time they gave
Iseac no room for a counterattack.

They tore through walls of air
that Iseac threw up to deflect their blows as they swung at him
again and again. The first blow that made it through to Iseac came
with such force that it pushed him backward. The impact slid off
the metal ring on his quarterstaff, coursing through every part of
his being. The blows continued to come faster and harder as he
deflected or dodged while looking for an opening.

His concentration was intense,
but his muscles were beginning to tense up with each contact as he
moved. He barely deflected one thrust to his chest that cut him on
the shoulder. He was getting weaker from every hit. He knew they
had noticed he was slowing down as they continued their relentless
attack. Blood was running down Iseac’s sleeves that he didn’t
notice. A few seconds later, he got a gash below the rib on his
right side; it burnt like hot oil under his skin.

Iseac was beginning to see
double as he tried to maintain his concentration. He caught the
glimpse of a spear heading for his throat, and he shifted his body,
leaning to his right with his head moving to the right side of his
shoulder. Before he could straighten up, he was hit in the stomach,
losing the air in his lungs. He fell flat on the ground, releasing
his quarterstaff. Like a fish out of water, Iseac gasped for air as
blood spotted his nose.

If this was the end, he
thought, then he was going to take the first one that came close
enough to him with his last breath.

One of the women walked over to
him. Looking down at Iseac, she raised her spear to finish him, but
a flash of silver blade shot up from the ground past her. She
squealed and part of her body morphed, changing back and forth from
its original form as it tried to grab its throat.

A silver blade suddenly
protruded and retracted from the creature’s stomach, leaving the
area dripping with a dark liquid that was its blood. It dropped
face down to the ground beside Iseac.

Still on the ground, Iseac
turned his head to see where the creature’s companion was, but it
too had dropped to the ground.

They were linked…somehow, he
thought, even in the fog beginning to cloud his mind. He could see
Tremay standing where the creature once was, with the same dark
liquid sliding down his blade.

A voice that sounded distant,
but yet familiar, called, as everything around him slowed down. He
was tired and opened his eyes intermittently. He saw Tremay, tall
and muscular with his dark face glowing, the silver lining around
his pupil more pronounced. Both braids, which extended over his
sideburns to his shoulder, waved in the air as he rushed over to
him, with his horse, Durack, by his side. Tremay’s facial
expression was that of deep concern, and Iseac’s mind wandered off
again. He needed to rest…just for a minute, so he closed his
eyes.

************

“Juab and Mosley!” Tremay
called as he laid Iseac on Durack.

Around Iseac’s mouth beginning
to froth.

“See that he makes it to
Tru’tia as fast as you can.” Tremay said as he secured Iseac on the
saddle. “The spear had something on it and it is killing him. Now
go,” he said once Iseac was secured. “We’ll hold them off…now
hurry!”

Sending their horses into a
gallop, Juab and Mosley made their way toward a sparsely forested
area for cover, but it was too late. A volley of arrows was
launched toward them.

Tremay turned to face the
direction from where the arrows were launched. He could see Golans,
with their faces painted for war, restringing their bows, led by a
person he could not clearly see; the face was hidden by a hooded
cloak.

“Kill them all,” the man in the
hooded cloak said to his men as they rushed toward the Ackalans.
“Victory shall be ours this night,” the man leading the Golans
said.

**************

The sound of the continuing
fight could be heard at a distance as Mosley rode away. Durack was
tied behind Mosley’s horse, with Iseac’s dangling body. Juab had
fallen from the wound he took protecting Iseac from the volley of
arrows that was aimed at them. He had taken one through his heart,
while Mosley had an arrow sticking out from his shoulder close to
his chest. Golans rarely miss their target.

*************

When Iseac opened his eyes
again, he rushed to his feet, ready to fend off any attacker, but
none came. After a few minutes looking around, he relaxed a bit,
still vigilant. His quarterstaff was gone and he did not recognize
the place. It was not where he was a few minutes ago. He remembered
being stabbed and should have felt pain from his wounds, but they
were also gone. Silence was all around him like a still pond at the
crack of dawn.

He stood alone in a forest he
did not recognize, covered by towering trees with their tops hidden
by fog. The fog also prevented him from seeing far in front; from
the way the air felt, Iseac knew it would be a few hours before
sunrise.

“What is this place?” he
wondered, “and what happened to everyone?” Was he dead, or did they
abandon him in the chaos? He needed to find answers.

With little visibility, he
tried to find his way, casting a spell that pushed the fog around
him some distance. Each time, it slowly moved back, enveloping him
again as he moved cautiously.

Iseac gave up on the idea of
pushing the fog around him after a while, and with poor visibility,
he tripped over the root of a fallen tree, but caught himself. He
turned to see most of the roots sticking out from the ground. He
decided to follow the tree to its head. He found a branch that was
long and thin enough that he could break off, which he did.

“No more surprises,” he said to
himself.

The stick was long enough to
use as a guide in the fog; however, what he really needed now was
to find out where he was, and maybe a trail.

The place was still unusually
quiet, missing the normal sounds of creatures roaming about.
Placing the branch to the ground, Iseac sat down, crossing his
legs. Concentrating, he spread his mind across the area and felt
nothing. “Where I’m I?” he said, becoming a little more anxious.
Not wanting to think of how he got here in the first place, he
tried again.

With an intense concentration,
he reached out his mind as far as he could; like a sling pulled to
its breaking point, he held it for as long as he could. And then he
suddenly felt something; as he focused on it, the earth in the area
rose, and a creature stuck its head out from the ground. When it
was completely out of its hole, it spread its wings. A few seconds
later, another popped its head out, and soon more started breaking
out from the ground.

The area was covered with
Rhanago, or winged serpents, as they were more commonly known, and
Iseac panicked. These creatures were black as hatchlings, with
coarse fur that changed to red and brown once they reached full
maturity, growing up to four feet in length, with their tails
extending about five feet. They had beady red eyes, with ears
tucked above their head and six bird-like legs with sharp claws,
three on each side of its upper body. A family of Rhanago was known
to skin a deer to the bone in minutes, and they were always hunting
if they weren’t hibernating.

That was why there was nothing
here, Iseac realized. Rushing to his feet, he cast another spell,
swiping the ground behind him with a blast of air powerful enough
to cut off any Rhanago that had its head out of the ground. Those
that survived took to the air, following his scent.

****************

Back in the woods, Mosley rode
stooped on his horse. His vision was fading in and out from the
loss of blood, but he hung on. Suddenly, a gust of air blew around
Iseac’s flopping body. This startled Durack, and the horse ran
ahead of Mosley’s mare, jerking him on his saddle. Mosley held on,
but just long enough for Durack, whose rein was tied to his saddle,
to calm down. Then he blacked out.

****************

Lord Almaric, who had been
watching the battle against the Ackalans, could see them tactfully
retreating.

Not pleased with the failure of
the ladies of the deep, he sent for one of his trackers. He wasn’t
going to remain on the sideline.

“I want half of the men to
remain here in support of Ranulf and Asa,” Almaric commanded. This
was to support the men coming from the east and west. “And I’ll
need a full report when I return,” he said to one of the
high-ranking officers who was to remain with a portion of the
army.

He, on the other hand, was
going to take a smaller group of men to catch up with the Messenger
and retrieve the amulet.

They took off on their horses
in the same direction as Juab and Mosley, led by Lord Almaric, his
tracker riding ahead of him with his men following behind in a
single file down the slope.

Once they were at the location
where Juab and Mosley were last seen, the tracker got off his horse
and, while holding unto his horse’s rein, walked over to a spot on
the ground. He examined the area for a second and then turned to
Almaric.

“One or two of the three have
been injured badly, based on the blood in this spot and also on
that branch,” he said, pointing to a broken branch. “The rider will
not make it very far if they don’t stop to attend to his
injury.”