Light Of Loreandril (23 page)

Once content with what she saw in his eyes, Khar began preening her feathers. Cradon breathed a sigh of relief, careful not to move too much, feeling the bird’s talons gently gripping his shoulder. It did not really hurt, and she obviously had not drawn blood, so he began to relax. Cradon was amazed to find she weighed almost nothing, and was pleased to discover he could stand and walk with her on his shoulder. As long as he moved and turned steadily she did not dig in her claws.

He watched as Gomel removed the second axe from the archer’s chest. Cradon did not know what to say, or what he should even be feeling. The boy stared at the dead man, whose eyes stared up at the sky, his mouth still gaping from gasping his last breathe. It was the first time he had been so near to death.

“We must make a move! Others will come looking for these two. They will not be far behind.” Gomel was washing his other axe, checking the edge of its blade for any nicks. “Are you all right, boy?” He turned to look at Cradon, standing motionless, white as a sheet, staring fixedly at the dead soldier. “Death is never easy to look upon, but I’m afraid it is something you will have to get used to.” He turned back to his blade, unconcerned to be kneeling next to the blood-soaked earth. The gnome had seen such horrors before.

“Are we going to bury them?”

“If that were you and I, our bodies would already be stripped and used for target practice.”

Cradon’s closed his eyes as the vision flashed into his head.

“Don’t worry, we will not dishonour them by doing that, but we will not bury them.” Gomel crouched down, and began checking the soldier’s body.

“What are you doing?” Cradon was disgusted by the gnome’s actions.

Gomel removed the soldier’s supply belt, rolling him over, and began checking the pouches. “We have no supplies, and you have no weapons. We need to take anything that may be of use.”

There was some dried salted meat and stale crackers, along with some tabacco and gold coins. Gomel also removed the small dagger and sheath that hung from the soldier’s waist. “Put these on!” Gomel flung them at Cradon’s feet and went to check the other body.

“What do you think, Khar? Is this wrong?” Cradon strained his neck to look at her on his shoulder. She squawked in reply and glided down onto the ground to peck inquisitively at the archer’s bow.
That
would be useful,
thought Cradon. After all, he had been hunting for years on the farm. His father had taught both sons to use a bow from when they were very young. He had always proved himself a good shot.

Cradon crouched down, fighting the guilt. Picking up the bow he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, trying not to wretch, he rolled the dead-weight body over to reveal the quiver strapped to the back. Thankfully, it still contained a good number of steel-tipped arrows.  

“Have you used a sword before?”  Gomel handed Cradon a heavy steel broadsword.

Immediately, the boy was struck by its immense weight, struggling at first even to lift the tip from the ground.

Gomel laughed, “I take that as a no, then!” strapping the sword’s sheath around Cradon’s waist. “Well, we will have to do something about your fighting skills to make sure you survive this. We need to watch each others’ backs out here!” He paused to look at Cradon. The boy looked so awkward, weighed down by all the weapons he now carried. “Don’t worry, boy! I will make a man out of you yet,” He laughed. “But first we need to give you some protection. Every warrior needs armour!”

“Please, I don’t think I can carry any more. I can barely move as it is!” Cradon already felt exhausted with the weight of the sword, equipment belt and bow.

“I am not intending on giving you a complete outfit, but you need something. Here!” He handed Cradon a pair of leather bracers for his forearms and helped him to strap them on. Much to Cradon’s relief there was very little weight. Gomel strapped a pair of shin guards to his bare calves, then looked at Cradon’s flimsy boots.

“Omph! Try these for size!” He dragged the boots from the second soldier’s feet and Cradon pulled them on. It felt strange wearing a dead man’s boots, but they fitted, and would serve him better than his own.

Gomel stood back to take a look at his creation. He was surprised to find that Cradon did look more the part. All he needed now was to learn to fight, but that would have to wait.

“Right, boy! We have lingered here far too long. We need to make a move. Are you ready?”

Cradon nodded and they waded across a shallow part of the stream, continuing their journey back into the trees, Khar following them somewhere above the canopy.

Gomel and Cradon had started off at a fair pace, alternating walking and running, trying to cover as much distance as possible. They had only stopped once, at Cradon’s request. The boy was struggling to carry all of his newly acquired equipment along with the Spirit Star. Needing a different method to cover the Star and free up a hand, with Gomel’s help he rearranged the heavy embroidered cloth so it hung around his body like a sling. With this new arrangement he could travel more easily.

Even so, the day passed slowly, emphasised by the repetitive, unchanging scenery. Although they saw no other scouts, both constantly checked behind them, fearful their pursuers were hot on their heels.

As the day finally began to darken, the exhausted pair were forced to stop, no longer able to pick their way easily through the wood and lush undergrowth. They scrambled through a dense, thorny thicket, hoping it would provide good cover, and found a round clearing, ideal for the night.

“Is it safe to light a fire?” Cradon watched as Gomel prepared a small pile of dried twigs and brown grass. He paid careful attention as Gomel skilfully sparked a small flame between two stones. It caught quickly as Gomel blew on the glowing spark. The smoke rose and billowed, its pungent smell filling the area and after a few moments there was a crackling campfire.

“We have no blankets. With winter drawing in, we will freeze without this! It’s a risk I am prepared to take.” Gomel held his stumpy fingers over the warm flames, feeling the cold numbness start to thaw. With the last slithers of sunlight disappearing from view, the temperature began to plummet. Even Khar joined them, perched on a spindly, overhanging branch, looking unusually fat with her puffed-up plumage.

“What about food?” Cradon rubbed his belly as it gurgled loudly with hunger. They had had nothing to eat except the dried scraps of meat found on the slain soldiers.

“Food… Well, how good are you with that bow?” Gomel also felt the pangs of hunger.

Cradon shrugged. He was a good shot when the target was stationary, but a moving one always proved more difficult. “I can give it a go although I’m better at fishing!”

There was a sudden flutter of wings as Khar left her perch and disappeared into the surrounding darkness.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be back!” Gomel smiled and pulled out his small, wooden pipe from a pouch on his belt, filling it with some of the tobacco from one of the soldiers. “Let’s give this a tr.? Military issue I’m sure, so it shouldn’t be too bad!” He lit it and took a few quick puffs to get it going, then coughed, “Well….it’s strong, but it’s good!” The bitter taste had made his eyes water as it caught in the back of his throat.

Cradon picked up his bow, and slung the quiver over his shoulder, preparing to go out and hunt. He turned, and looked nervously at Gomel lying on his side, still puffing on his pipe. “You won’t go anywhere will you?”

“Of course not! Just follow the smell of the tbacco back, but don’t go too far,” Gomel gasped, between coughs. “And, lad, don’t worry if you can’t catch anything, just do your best!”

As Cradon started to force his way through the thicket on his hands and knees there was a squawk above him. Khar had returned and had brought a gift for her companions. Clutched tightly in her yellow talons was a limp rabbit. She dropped it at Gomel’s feet and then returned to her perch above the campfire.

Both comrades were taken aback. Somehow, Khar had understood their conversation.

“Well, it seems you don’t need to go out hunting after all!” Gomel chuckled gratefully as he picked up the rabbit to skin. Very soon it was on a small, crude spit, sizzling over the fire.

Cradon watched Khar as she busily preened her speckled feathers. “She seems to be taking care of us!” he said, almost to himself. It was becoming obvious that there was more to this bird than met the eye.

“Jaidan has always maintained that animals understand us, they just decide whether or not to show it. And of course many animals fear us two-legged folk!” The gnome took another short puff on his pipe. He was starting to get accustomed to the harsh taste. “Jaidan is a special breed of man.”

Cradon shuffled closer to the gnome, eager to hear more.

“If you recall, he said he was a Brathunder. They were always very close to the Elves.”

Cradon nodded. “I seem to remember my brother saying something about that being the reason they were outcasts.”

“Your brother was right!” Gomel took another puff and thoughtfully blew a perfect smoke ring. “They used to be so close to the Elves they learnt  some rudimentary earth magic. Of course that was many, many generations ago, but the echoes still remain in some, like Jaidan, and that’s why he understands nature.”

“But what about Tavor? He was a Brathunder as well.” Cradon dropped his head, hiding his eyes n shame as he remembered how Tavor had betrayed them. He still did not understand how he could have been so gullible.  

Gomel easily read what was troubling the young clansman. His tone changed, filling with sympathy. “You are not to be blamed for what happened. Tavor was a servant of the Empire and would have betrayed anyone. That man was clearly desperate for their approval and highly trained in deception and lying.” He turned the spit, testing the meat with his fingertip. “Nearly done!”

Cradon was slightly comforted by Gomel’s words. His first experience of a gnome was not proving too bad at all. “I can’t help but think about the others. My brother……” he choked, shaking his head, trying to fight back the tears.

“You are twins, yes?”

Cradon nodded, discreetly wiping his cheek.

“Then you have an unbreakable bond, sensing whether he is alive or not. What do you feel?”

Cradon searched his mind and heart. There was deep feeling in the pit of his stomach that Nechan was alive. “He still lives,” he nodded, a relieved smile spreading across his face.

“Then hold onto that feeling. It will give you reason to keep going!”

They ate the rabbit, perfectly cooked by Gomel, and talked long into the night about the gnome kingdom, Ghornathia. Fascinated, Cradon hung eagerly on every word. He was excited he was going to see this amazing place Gomel described so vividly, with its cavernous halls and chambers, ornate carvings and decorative chandeliers.

As they went to sleep, after stoking the fire one last time, Gomel’s last words to Cradon were, “Tomorrow night, I will start teaching you to fight!” With that he rolled over to sleep, his rumbling snoring soon filling the camp.

Cradon was left with these thoughts swimming round his head.
Sword fighting! I never imagined I would end up doing that. If only mother and father could see me now. I wish I could let them know I was safe.
Cradon finally drifted off to sleep with fond memories of home cooking, his bed and a hug from his mother.

Cradon was brought out of his slumber with a start by Gomel shaking him. He had been dreaming about the farm and his friends in the village, and as he looked around their small camp the past few days came flooding back to him. Sitting up, Cradon massaged his shoulders and legs, feeling the tired ache that was now becoming familiar.

Today would be their third day of fleeing on foot from the enemy. The day before had been long and arduous, made worse as the terrain gradually became more loose and rocky. The trees and bushes had also started to change, becoming covered with thistles and spines along their spindly branches, catching and pulling on their clothes, scratching their skin as they pushed past.

As Cradon blinked in the bright, morning sun he turned round to see Gomel lying flat on his stomach, peering through the tall grass that sprouted under the low branches of a hawthorn bush.

“What are you doing?” Cradon yawned as he clambered on all fours towards Gomel.

“Shhh!” He motioned for Cradon to stay still and quiet, and pointed through the grass.

Cradon crept forward, sliding on his stomach until he could see what Gomel had spotted. For a moment he thought he was imagining things. He blinked, squeezing his eyes tight, assuming it was just his sleepy stupor making him hallucinate.

The mirage was still there when he opened his eyes.
It was Danfor, Nechan’s horse. Somehow he had survived
. This was an answer to their prayers.

“I know this horse,” he whispered. “It’s my brother’s. I should be able to catch him if he recognises me!”

Gomel nodded in agreement and Cradon motioned for him to stay where he was. Being unsure around such large animals, the gnome had no intention of helping.

Cradon circled Danfur quietly, keeping low to the ground. The horse lifted his head and smelt the air as if he had caught a scent. Cradon froze. Sensing something, Danfur visibly tensed his muscles, preparing to flee. He snorted and swished his black tail, smelling the air again.

Cradon watched patiently for a while, giving the horse time to settle. As soon as Danfur began pulling at the dried tuffs of grass again, Cradon took his opportunity. Standing up slowly, he whistled softly, mimicking Nechan calling his horse. Again, Danfur froze and pricked his ears, recognising the noise.

“Come here, Danfur. It’s alright,” he whispered in a soothing tone, taking a step closer, his hands open, showing Danfur he meant no harm. “You recognise me, don’t you, boy?” Danfur didn’t move, but stared at him, the whites of his eyes showing and nostrils flaring. Cradon could see he still wore his bridle, so as he took a step closer he gently grabbed the dangling reins. Danfur whinnied and reared, pulling Cradon up in the air.