Beyond the Edge of Dawn (10 page)

Hunted

Pirneon ignored the fresh blood staining Kavan’s tunic when he rejoined them. They’d made it out of Groskus without further incident, but their luck failed there. Aphere and Barum managed to scavenge a sack of oats for the horses along with a few other items, though not enough to see them across the mountains. Kavan offered a half-hearted collection of various food items raided from the Hanging Man.

“There might be another problem,” Kavan told them a half-day’s ride out from Groskus. “The ferry is operated by men loyal to the crime lords in Groskus. Word may have already gone out about us. I don’t need to remind you that the borderlands are lawless and dangerous. Even for a knight.”

“How many normally garrison the ferry?” Aphere asked.

Kavan shrugged. “There were about twenty the last time I crossed. If the alarm’s been raised, a whole company could be heading to cut us off.”

“Lovely.”

Pirneon sucked in his right cheek and checked the horizon. “We can’t burn the ferry once across?”

“We’d be cutting off too many villages from the trade routes, not to mention the amount of lost revenue the caravan merchants would face. We burn the ferry and there’ll be a hefty price on our heads,” Kavan cautioned. “These crime lords don’t forgive, and they never forget. I’d say we’re already worth about a hundred gold pieces. Our heads are, at any rate.”

“You’re full of good news today,” Aphere said and kicked her heels into her horse. “I’m going to go scout.”

“Can’t you use your newfound powers to halt them?” Pirneon harshly demanded.

Aphere winced. “I’ve never tried. It doesn’t work like that, Pirneon.”

She clicked her heels into her mare’s flank and stormed off.

They watched her ride off to relieve Barum. Soon even her dust trail was lost.

“Determined woman,” Pirneon said in a fatherly tone.

Kavan grinned. “She is one of us. How did you two come to be traveling together and what was that about powers?”

Pirneon offered a sly smile. “Opposite sides of the same war.”

He paused to enjoy the puzzled look on Kavan’s face before telling the rest of the tale.

“These are strange times indeed,” was all Kavan managed when he had finished.

Pirneon kept riding.

They rode for nearly two days at a slightly quickened pace. Pirneon knew that an undetermined force was keeping apace of them, riding hard to beat them to the ferry. If that happened, the Gaimosians were left with two options. They could try to fight through the blockade or spend weeks riding up and down the river to the nearest ford. Both paths were equally dangerous, for even if they escaped the ferry ambush, they’d be harried until the brigands’ vengeance wore out.

Kavan cursed his lack of foresight for not bringing a bow. He’d be able to strike out and whittle the enemy numbers down then. As it stood, that task fell to Barum. The squire was the only one with a long bow and would not suffer any of them to use his weaponry. Pirneon gave him a paternal look of approval and watched his squire ride off into the gathering dusk. The others stopped and make quick camp in a stand of sparse shrubs. It was late at night during Aphere’s watch when Barum returned.

“I almost didn’t find you,” he told her after slipping from his saddle.

Aphere never stopped scanning the night. “Were you followed?”

“Not that I know of.” He shook his head.

She let him bed down, deciding that he need only tell his story once before the entire group come the dawn. He thanked her and stumbled off, exhausted. Aphere continued her watch in silence. Her thoughts soon drifted towards Pirneon and his building disdain towards what her bond had become. It wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t see it. She lacked the ability to choose how it worked or why. What little she did know was that she’d been suffering from constant and severe headaches until Kistan helped her cope. All of his techniques worked splendidly, and she found herself with a much greater power than possibly imagined. Lost in thought, Aphere continued to watch for signs of their foe.

“I killed seven, but there are at least another twenty out there,” Barum told them between yawns and a bite of a hard travel biscuit. “Their horses were tired and slowing. These men are pushing hard for the ferry.”

“How did you come upon them?” Pirneon’s gaze was hard, flint-like.

Barum swallowed. “I picked up their trail about a league away. Once I got within range, I used the rock formations for cover and picked them off when I could. They were on to me by the time I killed the seventh, so I ran back in the opposite direction to throw them off.”

Aphere idly remarked, “It must have worked.”

Satisfied, Pirneon stood and stretched his back. “Very good. I continue to be impressed, Barum. Would that we had more bows and more time; then, we could whittle them down enough to make the remnants give up.”

“There’s no point in wishing,” Kavan said. “The ferry is still a league away, and they’ve no doubt sent a runner ahead to warn of our approach.”

Pirneon nodded grimly. “It seems we must make our choice now. Do we continue on to the ferry or head north to the nearest natural ford?”

“Four going up against forty isn’t good odds, even for us,” Aphere said.

“Agreed. Doing so invites death. Which ford is nearer, north or south?”

Kavan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “South, I believe. But there are rumors of some fell power in the mountains down there. Many travelers have gone through Lendren Pass and never been seen again.”

Pirneon laughed. “I’d much rather face a monster than forty plus men intent on murder. How far away is the ford?”

“Maybe a twenty leagues,” Kavan replied. “There are a few villages and independent steads along the route. Remember, the borderlands are mostly untamed. All manner of creatures roam there. Most men will not come unless their need is dire.”

“All this just to find out if a king has actually found where the dark gods were beaten,” Aphere said in disgust.

Pirneon eyed her sharply. “Gessun Thune is perhaps the most evil spot in all of Malweir. If Eglios did indeed find this dread place, it would do well for us to take action. We may be the only ones capable of stopping the evil from spreading. Others have tried throughout the years, but only Gaimosians came close to succeeding. The werebeasts Kavan slew are but the beginning if the way is open again.”

“Open?” she asked.

“Gessun Thune is said to be a gateway, a nexus, to another realm. The dark gods placed their power in the very ground where they were defeated, thus leaving a way for them to return when the time was right.”

Kavan winced. “You believe that time to be now?”

“So it would appear.”

“Then it would seem time is of the essence. We must be away before the brigands discover our change of plans,” Aphere said.

The tiny band struck out for the southern ford. By nightfall, they’d ridden nearly twelve leagues, and there was no sign of pursuit.

The land gradually opened into grassy plains, brown and wind dried from lack of rain. The boulders were gone. The Vengeance Knights were able to gain speed and time. Pirneon stopped them twice at small villages to resupply and water the mounts. Villagers shunned them and only dealt with them when there was no other option. They’d been raided far too many times to trust heavily armed strangers.

It was late in the second day of riding when talk returned to the ancient ruins.

“How can we know for certain that all of these issues are caused by Gessun Thune? None of us are trained to deal with such power,” Aphere said. Genuine concern twisted her face.

Pirneon empathized. He’d wondered the same since Kavan first found them in the desert. Gessun Thune was treated as a myth during the high time of Gaimos, often used by mothers to frighten their children into behaving. Not even the military training academy on Skaag Mountain bothered wasting time on nearly improbable events.

“Evil is evil,” he tried to argue.

Kavan wasn’t convinced. “That may be, but the power of the dark gods is well beyond anything we’ve encountered.”

The conversation ended, for none had anything substantial to contribute. Speculation could only go so far. Pirneon finally decided to allow a small campfire for cooking on their second night. He believed that the brigand threat was already gone and the knights would finally be allowed to relax, if slightly. Barum took his bow and returned with a handful of prairie rabbits for a thin stew. The meat was good, but rabbits have almost no fat, and eating too much would eventually weaken the knights.

Kavan thoughtfully gnawed on a leg bone and suddenly slapped his knee. The others gave bewildered looks.

“I just remembered,” he explained after seeing their faces. “When I was a little boy, my father would speak of an oracle somewhere out west. If it exists, we should be able to find the answers we need.”

“The Oracle of Wenx in Hresh Werd. Tis no myth,” Pirneon confirmed.

They nodded in thought, silently deciding their next course of action. A day later, they crossed the southern ford and continued the trek west.

Attacked

Aphere tried, unsuccessfully, to shield her face from the lashing rain. Thunder and lightning rumbled through the foothills. Strong winds drove the rain down in sheets, each drop a stinging flechette from an angry god. She couldn’t see more than a handful of paces ahead, and the rain-slickened ground had turned dangerous. Pirneon didn’t want to turn back, for there was no telling how much longer the storm would rage. So she struggled on into the teeth of the storm.

The storm had struck as they crossed the river and hadn’t let up in nearly a day. Pirneon pushed them as hard as he dared, but the going was slow. It took much longer than anticipated, but they finally crossed the five-league span to reach the foothills of the Kergland Spine where they now desperately sought shelter. Aphere’s hope rose slightly as she spied a growing darkness in the gathering dusk. She pushed ahead and felt instant relief as the darkness opened into a cave mouth.

Dismounting, she drew her sword and stalked to the entrance. Mountain caves were notorious for harboring bears and other large predators. The air was musky but clean of any animal scent. The cave wasn’t very large but should prove adequate to contain all of them. A fire was out of the question, however; with no dried wood, the knights would spend the night shivering. This was the worst part for her. They’d be forced to suffer through the night soaked to the bone and cold. Late winter storms had killed more unsuspecting travelers in this part of the world than anything else. Far from satisfied with her discovery, Aphere led her horse to the back of the cave and returned to fetch the others.

She didn’t know how long she waited, only that the last of the light was nearly gone before she heard the clack of hooves on stone. The pale glow of Pirneon’s lantern soon followed. Aphere let out a breath of relief. Born and raised in a kingdom similar to this, she knew the dangers of their situation more than any of them. Lord Death was out this night. Pirneon finally came into sight looking haggard and beyond exhausted. Steam trailed from his mouth with each breath.

She greeted them wordlessly and led them into shelter. They saw to their horses before settling down to a meager meal of dried meat and hard cheese. It did little to sate the growling sensation in their stomachs but successfully took their minds off of the bone-numbing chill sinking deeper. Outside, the storm raged on.

“A cup of tea would do nicely about now,” Pirneon commented as they watched the heavy rain pound down.

Aphere and Barum shared a smile while Kavan only looked at him with a wild eye.

“Tea?” he asked. “A fine ale would better ease my troubles. Winter doesn’t want to let go here. If this storm worsens, we may find the way barred.”

He left the last part of his thoughts private. Going around the mountains would add months to their travel time.

Aphere shivered. “Barred how?”

“Lightning and thunder can cause rockslides, or worse. The Lendren Pass is thirteen miles deep and treacherous in fair weather. The ground will be slick for days. There are some reaches here the sun does not kiss. Too, remember the tales of the monster in the mountains,” he explained.

“At least we’ll die dry and warm if the monster turns out to be a dragon,” Barum mumbled.

They laughed and huddled a little closer as warmth slipped away.

The storm left them trapped for another day. A distant bellow, the screams from their deepest nightmares, echoed over the cold grey walls. Hands dropped for swords, but the bellow wasn’t repeated. Pirneon organized a watch, for he would not have them come upon danger unprepared. The day passed uneventfully. Steady rain concealed most of the mountains, which suited them well. None wanted to be reminded of the gloom awaiting them. Halfway through the night, the storm picked back up. Lighting savaged the land, and Aphere trembled under the most terrible sound. She swore the mountains were crashing down on top of them. Uncharacteristically, she struggled with the urge to break and run for her life. Kavan snatched her back right before she stepped out of the cave.

“No!” he shouted above the storm. “You go out there and you’re dead! Stay put until the storm ends. We will be safe here.”

She reluctantly stayed, but that frightened look never left her soft eyes.

Dawn broke and, with it, the first bit of sunlight they’d seen in three days. They were eager to leave the confinement the cave had become, but storm damage was everywhere. Debris littered the trail, and the entire slope of a nearby mountain was gone. It had the appearance of being sheared off. Even Kavan balked at the sight, for no force on Malweir was that powerful. He and Aphere agreed that it must have been when she had heard the awful sound the night prior. After witnessing it, he could scarcely blame her fear.

They had more pressing problems besides a distant mountain. Their clothes were nearly dry yet still damp enough to invite sickness and mold. The storm had rendered all of their tinder useless. The mountains were unkind to unprepared travelers, even ones as hard as the Gaimosians. With no way to make a fire, they wouldn’t be able to dry out or heat their dwindling rations.

“We’ll catch a sickness if we don’t change out of these clothes soon. With naught to strike a fire, I deem we might be in trouble,” Pirneon warned.

Aphere clenched her jaw. It was a reflexive act she often failed to notice. “We need to get moving, then. The sooner we’re across these gods-awful mountains, the better our lives will be.”

“What if the way is blocked? Whatever caused that mountain to collapse could easily have done the same to block this pass,” Kavan asked.

“There’s nothing for it. We ride on and hope for the best,” Pirneon said.

The bitter tone of his voice left no room for further conversation.

Each took a turn relieving him or herself in the back of the cave and wearily climbed into the saddle. They were all red-eyed and sore, the kind of sore only experience soldiers could begin to understand. A constant burning sensation lingered in their eyes, and their muscles were cramped, aching from being trapped within damp confines for so long. Even the horses seemed almost giddy to be away.

“What of that bellowing we heard? It was no natural sound,” Aphere said.

“The monster of the mountains,” Kavan replied dryly.

As much as he enjoyed having others for companionship, Kavan quickly found himself wishing for the natural solitude of a Gaimosian knight. He’d had enough of working as a unit. Owing to the actions of others didn’t sit well with him — or any of them, for that matter — but it for the greater good, he carried on. The moment when he could break away without guilt and strike out on his own again would be welcome indeed.

Reluctantly, Kavan was forced to admit that he needed the others. This expedition had been his idea from the beginning — all because he deemed it necessary to help in fighting back a plague of demons. Be that as it may, at least the demons didn’t babble each waking moment. Kavan snickered.

“The world is still young, untamed,” Pirneon said. “It could be a great many things. I don’t think man has even begun to discover all of the old races lurking in the dark places of the world. Be thankful there are no wild tribes of Goblins this far west. Our troubles might never end otherwise. Goblins hold grudges until fulfillment or death.”

“Goblins don’t bother me so much,” Aphere told them. “I rode with a Dwarven war band from the Bairn Hills to avenge a fallen kinsmen once. We chased the Goblins down into their hole and burned them out. It was a good fight. We were outnumbered five to one. Damned creatures nearly hacked off my right foot.”

Kavan shook his head. His thoughts turned inward, back towards his fell encounters with the werebeasts. Up to that point, he’d never come close to being bested in combat. The blow tempered his sense of superiority. Since then, he’d been forced to rethink matters. He realized his own mortality. Gaimosians were naturally long lived but not immortal. Lord Death stalked them like every other soul.

This cold truth forced him to reevaluate his position. Finding and stopping the source of the werebeasts was his focal point. Pirneon and Aphere were invaluable assets required to find success. He just didn’t know where to begin. Getting to Aradain was a priority, but where to go from there? Fortunately, time was on his side. Lost in thought, he spurred his mount forward to take lead scout.

His dark eyes scanned the pass. There were hundreds of natural hiding places cut into the foreboding rock. Hundreds of places for ambushes. Outcroppings and shadowed draws lined the passage. Lendren Pass ran nearly twenty meters across at its widest and scarcely five in the deep mountain straits. It was nearly a mile up at its highest point and inhospitable nearly year round. Wiser people sought ways around the mountains rather than risk their lives going up and over.

He reached the first choke point and slowed. Dark shadows fell across the trail. A short ledge jut out from the right a few meters above ground. Sickly strings of gangly moss draped down. Kavan wasn’t sure, but he felt like he was being watched. He drew his sword.

“Come taste my steel, beastie,” he challenged in a low snarl.

The horse, born and bred for battle, sensed danger as well. Its ears pinned back against the flat of its great head, and it let out a harsh snort. Together, they advanced on whatever lurked in the shadows. The rest of the world disappeared. Pirneon and the others were still a goodly distance behind, leaving Kavan to face the challenge alone. Just the way he preferred.

A damp coolness washed over him the moment he stepped into the shadows. Tiny hairs stood on end on the back of his neck. Kavan sensed the beast was near. He gripped his sword tighter. The horse carried on. Halfway through the shadows, the beast struck. Kavan ducked right just in time, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow from a war bar. He reflexively lashed out in reply, and steel met hardened iron armor. Burning pain lanced down his arm. The war bar came crushing again, smashing huge chunks of rock off the wall where Kavan’s head had just been.

Kavan managed a good look at his foe and blanched. It was an Ogre. Nine feet tall and close to five hundred pounds of muscle and belligerence, the Ogre had a sickly green-grey pallor concealed beneath golden armor. His arms and legs were thickly corded muscle. A great horned helm sat wedged atop his massive head, a thick mane of jet-black hair running down his neck. The Ogre stank of death.

Roaring in frustration, the Ogre readied to attack again. Kavan spied bits of bone and rotting flesh stuck between razor sharp teeth. Cold black eyes glared back at him. The Ogre shifted his gaze to the horse with hungry eyes. Kavan struck. His sword cut a shallow blow on the top of the Ogre’s exposed forearm, causing it to roar again. Kavan brought his sword up sharply to slice off one of the Ogre’s fingers.

Dark blood spit from the wound. Using the same hand, the Ogre grabbed hold of Kavan’s sword and punched the horse in the side of the head. Bones cracked, and the horse reared back. Kavan fell. Unhorsed and now weaponless, he slowly eased back to put distance between them. It wasn’t much, but he was left with little options. His horse bolted away, back towards the others, in pain and fear.

Pain racked the Ogre’s damaged arm. He looked down at the blade cut into his flesh and cast it aside with a snarl. Fixing Kavan with a lethal stare, the Ogre barked the laugh of a victor. It was a sound so deep and booming, it trembled the very rock face. Kavan readied for his death. He crouched low in a grappling pose and drew his dagger, the only weapon on his person.

The blade was slender, hardly more than six inches. He had no illusions about winning. The Ogre was too big, too strong. He’d swung with all his might and barely managed to cut through the iron-like hide. The Ogre sensed his despair, taking the time to set his war bar down and taunt Kavan. Hot spittle drooled down from the corner of his mouth. Kavan caught the hesitancy and understood immediately. The monster wanted the challenge. Forcing a shallow breath, Kavan braced himself. This was going to hurt.

Roaring in challenge, the Ogre charged. It was all Kavan could do to stay on his feet as the ground quaked from each footstep. Rock and dust drifted down from the mountains, and the Ogre struck. His massive fist caught Kavan in his side and drove the knight into the rock wall. Kavan fell in a heap of bruised flesh. Fire burned his lungs. He struggled just to breathe. The Ogre stepped back and waited, like a cat toying with his prey. Stay down or get up, Kavan knew he was a dead man.

His vision swam as he struggled to rise to hands and knees. He clutched the tiny dagger, a miracle he still held on, tighter. Blood and phlegm spilled when he coughed. His entire body felt bruised, battered. Nothing in his warrior training had prepared him for the savage beating he was taking. No man had ever killed an Ogre in single combat. Trickery was his only option but one he thought of far too late. Kavan managed to rise on unsteady feet. The Ogre bellowed laughter. Kavan grinned fiercely in reply. Sensing the end was at hand, the mighty Ogre took slow, measured steps towards his wounded prey.

Kavan, for his part, was forced to place a steadying hand on the nearest rock face. The Ogre kept coming. Kavan let him, having little choice. The ground threatened to tear. Bruised arm hanging limp at his side, Kavan waited until the Ogre’s huge body blocked out the sun peeking over the ridge. He waited until all he saw was the bright golden armor charging to kill him. When he deemed the end was nigh, Kavan cast his dagger with all of the strength he had left.