FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE (81 page)

     None of the highminion’s subordinate moved, much to the fightlord’s surprise, and also enragement.

     “With all due respect, fightlord, we’re
not
under your authority
!
We’ll stay, escort you and observe your hunt. We’ll not help you, however. And when the Fallsian slave kills you, we’ll hunt him down and do to him what our battlelord commands of us. Then we’ll bring your bodies back with us and we’ll
hang
all of you in front of Fort Constrictor
!
” said one of the late highminion’s deputies, a midminion by rank.

     “And what if we manage to capture the Fallsian instead, what would you do then
?
” asked Fightlord Forktongue.

     “Then we’ll leave you and consider ourselves failed. The highminion’s body will be proof of our efforts. Battlelord Constrictor will forgive us and he will consider the issue resolved
!
We’ll require compensation, though, for the highminion whom you’ve killed,” answered the midminion.

     Fightlord Forktongue gave out a loud chuckle.

     “Compensation
?
” he asked rhetorically.

     “Compensation for my battlelord for his loss of a subordinate and for the highminion’s family for their loss of a loved one. 100 gold coins for my battlelord and 150 gold coins for the highminion’s dependants. And if you refuse, I shall ride back to Fort Constrictor … and bring my battlelord’s entire Serpenest to hunt you down
!
Just you, no one else
!
” answered the midminion.

     Fightlord Forktongue gave half a chuckle. As incredulous as the midminion’s threat had seemed, it was well known amongst the Serpentians that Battlelord Constrictor did occasionally make decisions as such. He had heard of another fightlord who had received such a fate just because he had made a rude remark about the battlelord’s favourite horse.

     “I ought to cut out your tongue, midminion
!
” he said rather unconvincingly, with the confidence missing from his voice.

     “And I ought to despatch my riders to call for reinforcements. My battlelord’s entire Serpenest will hunt you down. Then I’ll personally cut
your
tongue out, fightlord
!
” responded the midminion confidently.

     “All right
!
You win, for now
!
Let’s get going before we lose that stupid slave
!
” agreed the fightlord reluctantly.

     Fightlord Forktongue wiped the blood off his blade and returned it to its sheath at his waist. He gave the midminion a disgruntled look. He then came up with a plan to embezzle some of the metal ore mine’s profit to pay off the compensation demand. It was a small matter, as far as he was concerned. Battlelord Doomrattle was not a meticulous person. He would not be aware of 250 missing gold coins in an operation that produced approximately 3000 gold coins a month.

     Thorn witnessed the whole event with a sense of shock
!
In a way, he felt flattered that he was worth killing for. Then he came to his senses
!
Serpentians have always been violent, wild and unpredictable. This was the reason why his ancestors had left Serpentia in the first place. He looked at the sun. It was now low on the horizon, but there would be no nap time for him, at least not for the next few days.

     The
28
th
Morning of Third Month of Dry Season
turns to hell for Thorn as arrows start flying his way. He quickens his pace and runs in a zigzag pattern. He reaches the base of Eastern Falls Range and starts climbing the steeply elevated rocky terrain that forms the high ridgeline between the mountain peaks. Arrows land either side of him, embedding themselves into the hard earth or bouncing off the solid rocks and boulders around him. But Thorn does not return a single shot. The time is not right for such an action. Body-drenching sweat break out across his body as he desperately climbs the steep rocky surface in front of him. Finally Thorn reaches some sort of ledge and without delay, turns around and shoots off two arrows at his Serpentian pursuers in quick succession. Two desperate screams fill the mountain side as two arrow-struck Serpentians tumble to their deaths. Then Thorn slings his bow, turns around and grabs the bit of rocky surface in front of him and starts climbing again.

     After a quarter of an hour, the Serpentians reach the level section that Thorn had reached earlier and begin shooting arrows at him. Thorn ignores their deadly arrows and keeps striving upwards. He knows that none of the Serpentians are shadow-archers and the common Serpentians are too impatient to be good, accurate archers.

     Thorn is now half way up the mountain ridge and approximately a quarter of the way up to the mountain and he sees to his side a small boulder which he desperately tries to kick loose. After a few attempts, Thorn gains success as the small boulder breaks loose and goes tumbling down, smashing the head of one of the Serpentians and knocking another one off balance and causing him to fall to his painful death. Thorn then pushes himself upwards toward the peak.

     The temperature drops, sending deep chills into Thorn’s body.  The strong mountain winds compound the chill that he experiences. He begins to shiver badly. Finally he reaches another ledge and he slumps his body flat on it. He breathes heavily due to the thin air. He relaxes his entire body, allowing it to recuperate faster, but his mind is as focused as ever. He looks down. There is a considerable gap between him and the Serpentians. He shoots off two more arrows at his pursuers down below, but this time only manages to kill one of them. He sits back and takes a sip of water from his container. Slinging his bow once again, Thorn grabs the nearest hold he can find and resumes his climb.

     The Farhayvenyte sun hangs low over the horizon. Thorn is half way up the mountain. His lips are dry and cracked. His face is as pale as the moon. But he affords a smile, for he has finally reached the ridge line that forms the narrow valley connecting the mountain peaks. He takes a few desperate sips of water. Then he sprints along the snaking, undulating terrain trying to find a way that cuts across the range. The thickening vegetation now begins to impede his progress but he is glad that they are there for two reasons.

     The first reason is that these vegetations are a natural sign that he is on Fallsian soil and he is ever so glad to be setting foot on his homeland again. The second and more important reason is that these vegetations offer him cover and opportunities to hide and disappear into the background.

     Thorn hears a distant sound of water gushing. He rushes to its source. Arrows fly past him. Thorn turns around to see the Serpentians chasing wildly after him, their faces as pale as his. Thorn decides to return the favour. He strings an arrow, draws the bow, takes aim at Fightlord Forktongue and lets it loose. The heavy wooden shaft cuts through the thin, cold mountain air and embeds itself into the fightlord’s left shoulder, knocking him back a step or two. He lets out a frustrated grunt. This impresses Thorn a lot. It seems that Fightlord Forktongue is tough enough to take the pain of being shot at with an arrow. Thorn reasons though, that the fightlord is surprisingly tough but none the more humbler or wiser, for this is Thorn’s home ground. At any moment the Serpentians may run into a patrol of Fallsian soldiers and the tables will be turned against them. Then the hunters will become the prey. Thorn affords a smile at the irony of such a potential situation. If it truly happens that the situation reverses, Thorn shall see to it that the fightlord gets nothing but a small bun, once a day, everyday throughout his entire stay at the Fallsian dungeons.

     Thorn makes his way through the thick vegetation as best he can. His feet shuffle with the greatest speed. His lungs burn with pain. His hands paddle wildly through the air. He eyes are blurred by the coming darkness. But his ears are focussed on the sound, the sound of gushing water. He knows that gushing water means a stream, which will lead to a river, then to waterfalls and finally to Fallsian villages and towns, and hopefully a garrison of Fallsian soldiers. He spots the vague outline of a stream and runs downstream along its bank.

     More arrows fly past Thorn, but he does not retaliate. He quickens his pace. The sky is darkened now as the sun sets below the horizon. The sound of gushing water gets louder as the stream merges into a river. Thorn sprints desperately along the river bank in darkness. The undulating terrain makes his steps clumsy and unstable. Another volley of arrows fly by him, along with the complimentary curses and threats by Fightlord Forktongue. Then Thorn feels something amiss. The gushing sound suddenly turns very loud and the ground disappears from under his feet. He can hardly have the sense to let out a yell of shock as his body plummets to the unknown below. Cold, freezing water rushes into his ears, nose and mouth. The coldness swallows his body and stiffens it with the ensuing shock. Then all becomes dark, cold, wet… and silent.

     Somewhere in the Kingdom of Free Falls, in one of the many dark caves that were so characteristic of the mountain ranges in this land, two figures met in secret. Two torches provided minimal illumination. The contrast of the clothes that these two figures wore could not have been any bigger. One wore a simple black attire while the other wore elegant clothes weaved with gold, silver and many ornamental stones. But there was one thing they had in common, both men wore masks to hide their faces.

     “You failed to kill the prince
!
” said Lord Destiny, who as usual, was garbed in fine clothes.

     “You set me up
!
There were Elementhars guarding the prince on that day
!
” accused the man who was dressed in the simple black attire of an assassin.

      “No, I did not. I did not know that the Elementhars were given that assignment until after the event,” denied Lord Destiny calmly.

      “That doesn’t make a difference to me
!
It took my men three long months to dig those tunnels
!
Only the best of my assassins were selected and they had to undergo the most intensive and rigorous forms of training for months. And all of that for what
!?
For what
!?
So that they could all get killed
!?
I’ve lost more than 200 men on that day
!
210 men to be exact
!
  It should’ve been an easy kill, but now, it’s a disaster
!
All because you gave me faulty information
!
” said the assassin.

     Lord Destiny went silent for a while. He realised his tone would get him nowhere with the assassin.

     “My condolences for your loss, but blame me not, Clanmaster Collart. There was no way for anybody to have known that the Elementhars were assigned on that day. Besides, I was made to understand by our mutual contact, Baron Chessmaster, that your clan is the best and that you have dealt with Elementhars before. You are the experts of this industry. Your men should have been able to get the job done even with the Elementhars present
!
” he said.

      “It’s not that easy
!
With Elementhars, it’s never that easy
!
” stated Clanmaster Collart.

      “But I have paid you one half of 3000 pieces of gold coins for one dead prince, clanmaster
!
Are you going to finish the job and earn the final half or shall I take my business somewhere else
?
” pressured Lord Destiny.

      “The prince is as good as dead
!
It’s just going to take longer than expected. And the cost is going to go up, unless you don’t want to pay, of course. In which case, I’ll use my expertise on you and take from you what you owe me and more…much, much more,” said the assassin.

     “Are you threatening me
!?
” asked Lord Destiny firmly as he grabbed Clanmaster Collart by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the cold, dark wall of the cave.

     Clanmaster Collart offered no resistance. He just stared fiercely into Lord Destiny’s eyes.

     “Never underestimate a man who has a lot of money and power, clanmaster
!
I can make you disappear just like the countless hundreds who were the victims of your so called assassins’ clan
!
” said Lord Destiny.

     “And seeing that I’ve made countless hundreds disappear, what’s one pathetic, albeit rich and powerful man to me
?
” stated the clanmaster coolly as he stealthily drew out his dagger and pressured its tip onto Lord Destiny’s throat.

     “So where do we stand from here
?
” asked Lord Destiny as he released his hold on the assassin.