Chapter 8
The
snow crunched under Owens boot clad feet as he hiked down the mountain. Kallan walked about 3 yards behind him, cloak
wrapped around him. They both had packs on their backs, full of supplies and
food. They had not left anything behind,
including the last of the dried venison and extra tunics.
Owen marched with a stern
determination, but he kept as quiet as he could, walking under the trees in
places with less snow. He kept a sharp eye for any scouts that could be
watching, and soon the two boys arrived at the cave they had stayed the first
night. It was not far from the camp, but it was hidden, and they pushed some
branches and undergrowth across the entrance. They stowed most of their
supplies inside the cave, only taking their weapons with them. Then they began
to slowly creep back toward the camp.
Owen was extremely careful, for he
knew if they were discovered it would most likely mean their death. Kallan walked behind, putting his feet in
exactly the same places as Owen did as the camp slowly came into view through
the trees.
The village was ruined, and of the
buildings, only burnt logs and ashes remained. Round leather tents stood all
through the clearing, and members of the war party stood all around, lounging
in the shade and eating. But the most
surprising thing was the horse that stood tied to a tree in the center of the
clearing. Owen had never seen a horse
before, though he had been told many times of how they looked. It was a puzzle
to him why mountain barbarian tribes would have a horse.
Next to the horse several men were
talking. One was a wild chief with long ragged hair and a skin cloak. The other
was much different. He wore a long chainmail tunic belted on under a heavy jerkin
of black leather. On his belt was a long sword.
He wore a dark red cloak with a large clasp of silver. Tall leather
boots were on his feet.
He appeared to be flustered and he
talked quickly and quietly, his long oily black hair swishing back and forth as
he shook his head back and forth. He said something, then turned to his saddle
bags and pulled out a heavy bag. He handed it to the chief, who nodded and
smiled. The man stroked his thin beard thoughtfully, and then looked up at the chief
again. He smiled and said something
quietly. The chief nodded, and then yelled something in his own language gutturally
to another barbarian. The rough warrior
walked to one of the tents and ducked inside.
Owen heard a scream, then a yell
from the barbarian. He jolted out of the tent, holding his hand as it bled all
over the ground. The chief growled at him and pointed at the tent, and the
warrior reluctantly stumbled back into the tent. This time he was successful. He came back out of the tent, pulling a
struggling form by the hair. It was Nai.
Owen started. It was all he could
do to stop himself from running into the camp and killing the evil men. Rage
overwhelmed his senses and he began to stand up, when Kallan grabbed his belt
and pulled him back to the ground. He
fell, breathing hard, his hand holding an arrow. He lay there, and then raised
his head.
Nai stood now, no longer
struggling, as the tall stranger circled her, looking her over. Owens flesh crawled
at the sight of the man looking her over like an animal up for auction. He
looked at the barbarian. This time he spoke louder, loud enough for Owen and
Kallan to hear.
“Are their others?” He said,
motioning toward Nai.
“Yes lord, two like hur, but old,
and some leetle ones.”
The greasy stranger scoffed, and
then swung onto his horse.
“I will take her now and the others
when you reach the city.” He tossed the chief some coins, and then grabbed Nai
by the arm, pulling her onto the horse behind him, and galloped off down the
valley. At the edge of the clearing he stopped and turned.
“Remember, I will expect to meet
you in three days!” He turned his horse, and galloped off, Nai holding on
desperately behind him.
Owen scrambled to his feet, running
back toward the cave. Kallan dashed after him, trying to stay as quiet, but
stepped on a log. It tipped, sending him sprawling to the ground with a crash.
He pulled himself up, but the damage was done. Owen turned and looked back. A savage howl came from the camp. The boys
began to run as fast as they could, dodging trees and fallen logs.
Owen began to run up hill, not
toward the cave. If they could lose the barbarians, they could backtrack to the
cave. But, if they went there, they might find it and they would lose all their
supplies. Kallan followed behind, hand on his sword hilt.
Suddenly, they ran into a
clearing. Owen, hearing something,
whipped out his bow and nocked an arrow. He turned around, bow ready. His eyes widened as a man leapt onto Kallan.
Kallan tripped on a log just on time, and Owen sent an arrow into the vicious
man. He fell back, ripping the arrow out
of its side with his hand, and then charged again, letting out a howl.
Kallan pulled out his sword and
slashed at the beast as it hit him, cutting its head almost off. It fell, dead.
Owen breathed a sigh of relief. But it was not over. Three more wolves charged
into the clearing on their right, and another on the left. They advanced, but a
beastly man blocked their way. They circled them, grinning with their stained
teeth.
Owen and Kallan got back to back,
bracing themselves for the coming onslaught. Owen held an arrow on the string,
aiming it at one, then the other. His hands shook with the tension on his
muscles. Kallan held his sword in both hands, bracing his legs in a ready
position. Sweat dripped down into Owens eyes. He blinked. Then the man charged.
It came with a bound, missing Owen
by less than an inch with its massive metal claws. He let the string go, missing it with the arrow
as it slammed into him. He rolled, dropping his bow and putting his hands over
his neck. He rolled onto his back as the
creature jumped onto him again. It
landed right on top of him, its hands on either side of his body. It opened its
mouth to howl, but the howl never came.
An arrow sprouted from its mouth,
and it tumbled on its side, spraying blood over Owen. He sat up, and saw Kallan
slashing at one of them. It batted the sword out of his hand, then was about to
give the killing blow when a strange whistling noise sounded and brown streak
shot from the sky. It hit the man in the face, and then began to fly around its
head, annoying it.
The third barbarian ran toward
Owen, who readied his knife, but it was felled by two more arrows to the
throat. He turned and saw Kallan stab a man twice in the chest.
The final man jumped toward Owen,
but an arrow sprouted from its chest. Owen turned and ran to where Kallan
stood, covered in blood and grime from the fight. He grabbed his bow from where it lay on the ground.
The large bird that had helped Kallan glided back toward the edge of the
clearing. Owen turned. There stood a tall figure. He held out his hand, and the
bird landed carefully on it, taking the piece of meat and gulping it down.
The figure petted his large hawk,
and then pushed his light hair out of his eyes. His face was scarred with
barely healed wounds, but it was unmistakably Marcus. His longbow was strapped
to his back, along with a worn quiver full of barbarian arrows. His knives were
strapped to his belt over his grey tunic.
A heavy cloak was wrapped around him.
He smiled a grim smile at their
surprise, and then held up his hand. The red-tailed hawk took off from his
hand, and he walked toward them. He walked with a slight limp.
“I thought you were dead.” Said
Kallan, looking slightly confused. “How did you survive?”
“I almost didn’t.” replied Marcus.
“I crawled away after the battle ended. Since then I have been spying, and
stealing what I could. I got my bow back, and these arrows,” He motioned to the
quiver, “and some supplies. Since then I have been looking for survivors. I
know that there are some at the camp. They were captured.” Owen nodded, his
eyes downcast, but he did not speak.
Kallan spoke up.
“What about the men? Did any of
them survive?”
Marcus shook his head. “None that I
know of. They burned the bodies the morning after the battle, and I watched
that. Rory, Morden, Baird, Stephan…..
They were all burned.” He looked down sorrowfully.
“What of father?” asked Kallan.
“No sign. He was not captured or
killed while I was there at least. We can only hope.” He looked across at Owen.
“Many of the women and children are
unaccounted for. Only mother, the halflings, Nai, and Angela are captured. Not
many were killed by the wolves, for those were burned. Unless they were eaten.”
Owen felt sick. “But, many of them are still out there, alive or dead, though
I’m not sure where. I was searching for them when I found you.”
Owen nodded. Then he looked back.
“Let’s go back to the cave and get
our supplies. Then we can talk on what to do next. It’s good to see you alive.”
Marcus followed the other two to
the cave, where they slipped inside. They ate a small amount of meat and then
began to talk. Marcus spoke first.
“I’m curious about what happened to
you now. I’ve told you my story, now tell yours.”
Owen began to speak, but Kallan cut
in.
“We ran, and camped here the first
night. After that we went up Beartooth, got supplies from a little hidey hole
we have up there, and then came back down early today.”
“Hmmm……” Marcus looked thoughtful.
“What should we do next, that is the question.”
Owen looked up from where he had
been staring at the wall.
“We should go after them.” Kallan
and Marcus both looked up in surprise. “We have to rescue mother and the
others. And,” he looked at Kallan. “We
have to rescue Nai.” We have to chase that man, the one with the horse.” Marcus
raised his eyebrows. Kallan explained.
“When we were watching the village,
a man came. He wasn’t a barbarian, but he talked to them and ordered them
around. Then he took Nai.” He turned to Owen. “I know how you feel, but you
would never catch up to a man galloping on horseback, especially because he’s
got a full day’s head start.”
“I can’t just leave her!” Owen
looked desperate. “I’ll go alone if I have to, but I have to save her.” Marcus looked slightly puzzled, but then he
smiled.
“Ah, that’s it.” He laughed a small
laugh. Owen and Kallan looked at him, puzzled.
“I’d just never thought of that.
You having feelings for Nai. Interesting.” Owen had forgotten that Marcus had
never heard of his feelings for Nai.
“Does she know?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t think so. I never thought
something like this would happen, and I have wanted to talk to her and her
father for a long time. I just…… I could never bring myself to do it.” He
buried his face in his hands. “Now it’s too late.”
Marcus looked sympathetically at
him. “I am truly sorry Owen, but the more pressing task is to free the others.
The barbarians will be on their guard now, so we will have to be careful not to
be seen.”
Owen looked up. Once again his eyes
burned with cold fire.
“Then I have a plan to do it.” He began to outline a plan, a desperate plan,
one that would most likely not succeed. But, it was their only choice, a last
desperate bid for the freedom of their friends, and the annihilation of the
barbarians.
© Aidan Moon 2012
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