Light Of Loreandril (24 page)

“Whoa, Whoa. Take it easy, Danfur.” He patted him on his neck, and whispered soothingly into his ears and gradually Danfur relaxed and nuzzled Cradon with his soft, velveteen nose.

With the horse now trusting him, Cradon inspected each of his legs and hooves for injury, stroking his dark brown flanks and white hocks. Apart from a few minor scratches and a lot of mud, he appeared unscathed from his recent roaming.

Seeing that all was well, Gomel joined him, looking nervously at the large animal, bringing with him the rest of the equipment and weapons. Cradon reluctantly began adorning himself with the various items such as his bow and quiver and the heavy sword.

“How are we expected to ride this animal? It hasn’t even got a saddle,” moaned Gomel, not looking forward to the prospects of trying to ride again.

“We will have to ride him bareback. You must have done that before!” Cradon laughed, surprised at Gomel’s lack of enthusiasm.

“With these?” He shook a short stumpy leg at Cradon. “Omph! Do you honestly think that Gnomes were born to ride animals like this?”

“You will just have to hang on tightly to me then, won’t you!” laughed Cradon as he jumped effortlessly onto the back of Danfur.

Feeling the sudden load Danfur side-stepped anxiously, champing at his bit, making Gomel automatically flinch. The horse relaxed as Cradon patted him reassuringly on the neck. Cradon leaned down and offered Gomel a helping hand. Reluctantly, the gnome grabbed it and between the two of them, mustering all the strength they could, he heaved his stocky, awkward body onto the horse behind Cradon. Gomel looked nervously down at the ground that now seemed so far away. Even hanging on tightly to Cradon, because his short legs barely draped around the horse’s sides he felt very precarious.

“Just don’t go galloping off too fast!” he grumbled, visibly pale at the thought.

With a swift kick, Cradon spurred Danfur into action. Gomel instinctively grabbed hold of Cradon around the waist in fear for his life, nearly squeezing all the air out of his chest.

“Not so tight!” Cradon gasped, laughing.

Danfur sped up, cantering easily over the open ground, weaving around the occasional bush and boulder. Gomel buried his head into Cradon’s back, his eyes tightly closed, not wanted to see how fast the ground was moving below them.

The day passed far more quickly than previous days, even though the insides of their legs were beginning to chafe against Danfur’s sides. They had only stopped briefly beside a small, muddy pool to allow Danfur to drink.

The scenery rapidly changed, becoming far more open, with vast, rolling plains stretching out in all directions. This was the start of the Grasslands, which continued for many hundreds of miles.

Small nomadic tribes commonly used these lands. They grazed large herds of livestock, with all except a small amount of the meat going to the Empire. Though most inhabitants were nomadic, they were several small market towns scattered about the area.

“I think we should look at stopping soon!” Cradon suggested. He had already slowed Danfur to slow gentle walk, not wanting to ride him too hard.

“We should find a watering hole first. There should be one close.” Gomel’s aching legs made him quickly agree to stopping. Even the muscles in his arms ached from gripping on to Cradon so tightly all day.

They soon came across a small watering hole that was purpose built and obviously maintained, with a stone edging and the vegetation cleared away. They allowed Danfur to drink his full while they replenished their own waterskins.

“I don’t think it would be prudent to camp by this though. We don’t know who else will visit it.”

Gomel stood, hand on hips, straining his neck as he tried to scan the horizon. The lush grass was very tall, coming above Cradon’s knees or higher, so naturally Gomel was unable to see very far at all, being only chest height against Cradon. There were three tracks that led off in different directions. The young Hundlinger stared down each of them, looking for anyone coming. Only one appeared to have been used recently, with the hoof marks of several large horses discernible in the dirt.

“You are learning quickly, Cradon. I’m impressed you are already being so careful,” flattered Gomel.

Cradon tried to hide his pleasure at receiving the compliment.

Leading Danfur away from the waterhole and the tracks, they found a small ash tree under which they decided to make camp for the night. Using the bridle, Cradon tied Danfur securely to the tree, giving him enough length to reach down and pull on the long grass. He was surprised to see Khar was still with them, joining them for the night, perched in the tree.

They decided not to light a fire that night. In such open lands, it would only act as a beacon to unwanted attention. With no fire, they were forced to have a very frugal meal of dried crackers and salted meat, the last of the supplies taken from the soldiers. Neither was satisfied and as they lay back looking up into the clear night sky their stomachs rumbled angrily.

“We need to get more supplies if we are to continue much further. With winter being nearly upon us we will struggle to hunt much, even in these mild lands.” Gomel was clearly concerned. He looked over at Cradon who was stretched out on his back chewing a long blade of grass. “I think we will have to pay a visit to one of the local market towns.”

Cradon was surprised. “But there will be troops. People will see
you
! How can we?” he exclaimed as he sat bolt upright, his nervous stomach turning to tangled knots.

“Well,” signed Gomel, “we will just have to think of a way!” He watched as Cradon’s head dropped into his hands in despair at their situation.

“It’s just hopeless!”

Gomel felt a fleeting moment of guilt as he thought of what this poor boy had got himself into. An idea came to him. Gomel jumped up and snapped a sturdy branch from the young tree. Measuring halfway, he broke it in two and threw one at Cradon’s feet.

“This ought to tale your mind off things!” he laughed.

“What?” Cradon was in no mood for games and threw the stick to the ground.

“I said I would teach you to fight, so,
On Guard
!”

Gomel sprang forwards towards Cradon and slapped the stick against his arm. Cradon winced in pain and began rubbing his arm, which was already smarting.

“Why did you do that?” he whined.

“I warned you!” Gomel mocked. “Come one! Defend yourself!” He lunged at Cradon again, hitting him twice on each arm playfully, challenging him.  

“Stop it! I don’t want to! I don’t even know how!”

“How else are you going to learn!” For a third time, Gomel bounced towards Cradon and went to hit his arm again. Cradon ducked, snatching up the stick. He instinctively batted Gomel’s blow out of the way. Gomel nodded, pleased that Cradon was now starting to play, and tested him twice more.

“Good! But I was only playing at a very slow pace. First, let me teach you how to stand correctly!” Gomel demonstrated, holding his stick out, his feet apart, planted firmly on the floor, slightly side on. “Now, try to hit me as hard as you can!”

With all his might, Cradon hacked at Gomel who easily absorbed the blow, bending his knees slightly and defending himself with his stick. “Did you see that?”

Cradon nodded.

“Now, you try. Take the same stance!”

With some help and readjustments from Gomel, Cradon managed to copy the position. Gomel attacked him, and to Cradon’s surprise he easily defended the blow. He was pleased with himself and ready for more. Gomel however, was already out of breath and slumped on the floor, cross-legged.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, don’t you?”

“No! Please! Teach me more!” Cradon was now full of energy and eager to learn. He pranced around the camp, swishing his stick through the air to prove how eager he was.

Gomel moaned and slowly forced himself onto his feet. “Omph! If I must!” He paused for a moment to think. “Where to start, ummmm……defence! Right, boy, I am going to teach you the main defence positions, and you are going to learn them off by heart!”

Over the next hour, Gomel proceeded to teach Cradon several defensive moves, showing him how to hold his pretend sword correctly.

It was hard work and all new to him, but Cradon was enjoying it. Of course he had pretended to sword fight as a young boy with Nechan, but that was just child’s play compared to this. When neither companion could take any more, they both collapsed, exhausted.

“Tomorrow night, I will teach you how to use those positions against different attacks,” Gomel yawned. With that, the gnome rolled over and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Cradon hardly heard the snoring as he played over in his mind the different things he had just learnt. Eventually he drifted off to sleep also.

Nechan lay on the cold, hard ground listening to the sound of the soldiers, his captors, laughing raucously. The bonds around his wrists burned from when he was dragged and there were already bands of dark bruising forming where the rope cut. His ankles were as bad, with the thin wirey rope rubbing his skin raw with every step he was forced to take.

The others were fairing no better. In fact they had been treated far worse over the past three days as they tried to resist being dragged and mauled by the soldiers.

For some reason the soldiers had taken a strong disliking to Jaidan, and his face bore the bruises. They kept the two elves at a distance, and apart from the black metal brace about Nymril’s neck and the occasional slap for resisting, they were relatively unharmed. Gaular however, was fairing the worst. He was bound far more rigorously than his comrades, hardly able to breathe, let alone struggle. Even so, the soldiers had taken to whipping him every time he slightly stumbled.

Nechan rolled onto his side to face Jaidan. There was a deep cut between Jaiden’s eyes and his nose was swollen and bruised, encrusted with dried blood from where he had been struck earlier that day.

“Are you all right?” Nechan whispered.

A guard looked over in their direction briefly, but then turned back to carry on shovelling down his supper.

Jaidan opened his eyes, but the pained expression did not pass. “As well as can be expected. How are you holding up?”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. They seem to leave me alone.” While he was grateful for the lack of attention, Nechan could not help feel guilty.

“You are wise not to resist them!” Jaidan almost laughed, but choked it back, grimacing in pain, holding his bruised ribs. “The rest of us are just too stubborn!”

“Did anyone say you could talk?” The guard had strolled over and kicked Jaidan hard in the leg.

“Leave them be. What harm can it do? Perhaps the boy can convince the rest of them to behave!”

Nechan looked up to see the shadowy figure of Tavor standing over him.

“Leave us! I want to talk to the boy!” He signalled to the soldier to go back to the rest of the men. The man seemed reluctant at first, but was reassured by a discreet nod from his sergeant, Javil.

Tavor helped Nechan sit up, and dropped a chunk of stale bread and slice of salted meat on his lap.

“Here, eat this.”

Nechan looked over at Jaidan still lying on the floor, who nodded his approval. With both hands still tied together he began tugging on the dry bread, pleased he had finally been fed.

“Why have you fed me? And why did you say I was only seventeen?” he asked with his mouth full. “Won’t the others be angry with you if they find out the truth?”

“Does my safety worry you?” Tavor queried, poking the boy provocatively in the shoulder. When he got no response, he sighed and continued. “Nechan, as I have said all along, I mean you no harm. I know that you are an innocent caught up in this. Besides, I’m afraid the punishment is likely to be the same whether you are traitor or a deserter.” He went to place a consoling hand on Nechan’s shoulder but the young clansman flinched out of the way.

“Then why did you betray us? You led us into a trap!” he snapped throwing the remains of the dried meat back at his betrayer in disgust. Hearing the commotion, several soldiers stood up to look, ready to draw their swords. Tavor motioned for them to stay calm.

“Perhaps if you had trusted me and told me about the Spirit Star none of this would have happened. I would have been happy to take it and let you go on your way!”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Tavor sighed, scratching his head. “I couldn’t be sure you had it. You rarely let your belongings out of your sight. In fact Cradon even slept on it. I had orders to look after you and make sure you had it before we made our move.”

Tavor rubbed his face with his hands. He looked drawn and strained. “I never meant any harm to come to you or your brother, regardless of what you might think.” He stood up to rejoin the others.

“You’re a traitor to your clan!” Jaidan shouted at him, propping himself up on his elbows. “Brathunders are born to be friends of the Elves. Look at you now, a slave of the Empire!”

Angered by Jaidan’s words, Tavor swung round instantly, lunging right down into the clansman’s face. He grabbed him by his tunic, lifting him off the ground, pulling him close. “I am not a slave. I
choose
to be an honoured servant of the Empire!” he hissed venomously through clenched teeth. He dropped Jaidan back on the ground and left the captives alone to sit by a campfire by himself, his back to the rest of the group.

“He appears to be hiding something. I can read the guilt he feels. It gives me hope that we may have a chance!” Eilendan had been listening in silence to every word, lying next to Jaidan on his stomach, his hands tied behind his back.

“A chance for what?” whispered Nechan, leaning closer.

“Escape!” There was an excited glint in Jaidan’s eye. “But we must be patient, bide our time until the opportunity arises.”

“Both of you should get some sleep. We will have another long day again tomorrow,” Eilendan advised, tryingto get himself into a more comfortable position to sleep. Jaidan and Nechan lay down again and tried their best to drift off despite rowdiness from the soldiers.