Jimmy looked at Laurie. ‘Damn me if I don’t think we’re going to do it.’
Laurie threw Jimmy his tunic. ‘Now all we have to do is get back down.’
Arutha’s head came up. ‘Dress quickly. We leave at once.’
As Arutha breasted the rim of the canyon, Galain said, ‘I was about to pull the ropes up again. You cut it fine, Prince Arutha.’
‘I thought it best to be down the mountain as soon as possible, rather than wait another day.’
‘That I cannot argue,’ agreed the elf. ‘Last night there was some argument between the chief of the renegades and the moredhel leaders. I couldn’t get close enough to hear, but as the dark ones and humans don’t get along very well, I judge this arrangement soon to end. If that happens, this Murad may decide to cease waiting and begin looking once more.’
‘Then we had best get as far from here as we can before light.’
Already the sky was turning grey as false dawn visited the mountains. Fortune was with them in part, for on this side of the mountains they would have shadows to hide within awhile longer than had they faced the sunrise. It would be only a little help, but any was welcome.
Martin, Baru, and Roald were quickly up the ropes. Laurie struggled a little, not having the knack of climbing, a fact he had failed to mention to the others. With silent urging from his companions, he finally cleared the rim.
Jimmy scampered quickly upwards. The morning light was growing. Jimmy feared being seen against the rock face of the canyon should anyone move from the bridge. In his haste, he became incautious and slipped on an outcropping, the toe of his boot skidding off the rock. He gripped the rope as he fell a few feet and grunted as he slammed into the face of the canyon. Then pain exploded along his side and he bit back a shout. Gasping silently for breath, he turned his back to the wall of the canyon. With a spasm of movement he wrapped the rope under his left arm and gripped it tightly. Gingerly he reached inside his tunic and felt the knife he had pilfered from the dead man. When dressing, he had hastily returned it to his tunic rather than place it in his pack as he should have done. Now at least two inches of steel stuck in his side. Keeping his voice in control, he whispered, ‘Pull me up.’
Jimmy nearly lost his grip with the first wave of pain that struck as they hauled the rope upwards. He slipped and gritted his teeth. Then he was over the rim.
‘What happened?’ asked the Prince.
‘I got careless,’ answered the boy. ‘Lift my tunic.’
Laurie did so and swore. Martin nodded at the boy, who returned the gesture. Then he pulled the knife and Jimmy almost fainted. Martin cut a section of a cloak and bound the boy’s side. He motioned to Laurie and Roald, who supported the boy between them as they moved away from the canyon. As they hurried through the quickly brightening morning, Laurie said, ‘You just couldn’t do it the easy way, could you?’
They had managed to avoid detection while carrying Jimmy, for the first half of the day. The moredhel still did not know Moraelin had been invaded, and looked outwards, awaiting the approach of those who now sought to escape.
But now they watched a moredhel lookout. He sat perched upon the outcropping that had caused so much trouble getting past before, and under which they must again pass. It was near noon, and they huddled down inside a depression, barely out of sight. Martin signalled to Galain, asking if the elf wanted to move first or second. The elf moved out, letting Martin follow. The afternoon was still, the day lacking even the slight breeze that had covered small movements when they had passed three nights earlier. Now it took all the skill the elf and Martin possessed to move a scant twenty feet without alerting the sentry.
Martin nocked an arrow and took aim over Galain’s shoulder. Galain pulled his hunting knife and rose up beside the moredhel. Galain tapped him on the shoulder. The dark elf spun at the unexpected contact, and Galain slashed his knife across his throat. The moredhel reared up and Martin’s arrow took him in the chest. Galain grabbed him about the knees, lowering him back to his sitting position. He twisted Martin’s arrow, breaking it off rather than trying to pull out the barb. In only moments the moredhel had been killed and still seemed at his post.
Martin and Galain ducked back down and faced the others. ‘He’ll be discovered in a few hours. They may think us on our way in and search above us first, but then they’ll be down the mountain. Now we must fly. We’re two days to the outer reaches of the elven forests if we don’t stop. Come.’
They scrambled down the trail, Jimmy wincing as he was half carried by Laurie. ‘If the horses are still there,’ muttered Roald.
‘If they’re not,’ said Jimmy weakly, ‘at least it’s all downhill.’
They stopped only to let the horses get the minimal rest they required to survive a cross-country run. It would be likely the animals would not be usable after the dash, but that could not be helped. Arutha would let nothing prevent his return now that he possessed the means for Anita’s cure. Before, he had been a man on the edge of despair; now a flame burned within, and he would let nothing extinguish it. Through the night they rode.
Lathered, panting horses were led by exhausted riders down the woodland trail. They had entered deep forest, still in the foothills of the mountains, but close to the boundary of the elven forests. Jimmy was half-conscious from loss of blood, fatigue, and pain. The wound had opened again sometime during the night and he had been unable to do more than clutch his side. Then the boy’s eyes rolled up and he fell face down onto the trail.
When he regained consciousness, he sat up, held by Laurie and Baru while Martin and Roald wrapped him in fresh bandages cut from Martin’s cloak. ‘This’ll have to do until we reach Elvandar,’ said Martin.
Arutha said, ‘If it opens again, say something. Galain, ride double with him, and don’t let him fall off.’
Once again they were in the saddle, and once again they endured the nightmare ride.
Near sundown of the second day, the first horse faltered. Martin put it down quickly and said, ‘I’ll run for a while.’
For nearly three miles the Duke ran; though the fatigued horses’ pace was slower than normal, this was still an impressive feat. Baru took to the trail for a while, then Galain, but still they were reaching their limit. The horses were reduced to a loping canter and trotting. Then they could only walk.
In silence they moved through the night, simply counting the passing yards as each minute took them closer to safety, knowing that, somewhere behind, the mute moredhel captain and his Black Slayers followed. Near morning they crossed a small trail and Martin said, ‘Here they must split forces, for they can’t know we haven’t turned east for Stone Mountain.’
Arutha said, ‘Everyone dismount.’
They did and the Prince said, ‘Martin, lead the horses towards Stone Mountain for a while, then turn them loose. We’ll continue on foot.’
Martin did as he was bidden while Baru masked the tracks of those on foot. Martin caught up with them an hour later. As he ran down a woodland trail towards them, he said, ‘I think I heard something behind. I can’t be sure. The wind is picking up and the noise was faint.’
Arutha said, ‘We continue towards Elvandar, but keep alert for a defensible position.’ He started a stagger-legged run, and the others took off after him, Jimmy supported in part by Martin.
For nearly an hour they half ran, half stumbled along, until the sounds of pursuit could be heard echoing through the woods. They felt a surge of energy as fear drove them onwards. Then Arutha pointed towards an outcropping of rock, in a semicircle that formed an almost perfect natural breastwork. He asked Galain, ‘How far until help?’
The elf studied the woods in the early morning light and said, ‘We are near the edge of our forests. My people will be an hour away, perhaps two.’
Arutha quickly gave the elf the pack containing the Silverthorn and said, ‘Take Jimmy. We’ll hold them here until you return.’ They all knew the pack was against the possibility the elf didn??
?t return in time. At least Anita could still be cured.
Jimmy sat down on the rock. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I would double the time he’ll take to find help. I can fight standing still better than I can run.’ With that he crawled over the stone breastwork and pulled out his dirk.
Arutha looked at the boy: tired, bleeding again, almost collapsing from fatigue and blood loss, but grinning at him while holding his dirk. Arutha gave a curt nod and the elf was off. Quickly they got behind the rocks, drew weapons, and waited.
For long minutes they huddled down behind the rocks, knowing that as each minute passed, their chances of rescue increased. Almost with each breath they could feel rescue and obliteration racing towards them. Chance as much as anything would determine their survival. If Calin and his warriors were waiting close to the edge of the forest, and Galain could quickly locate them, there was hope; if not, no hope. In the distance the sound of riders grew louder. Each moment passed slowly, each instant of possible discovery dragging by, and the agony of waiting increased. Then, in almost welcome relief, a shout was sounded and the moredhel were upon them.
Martin rose up, his bow already drawn by the time he had a target. The first moredhel to see them was propelled backwards out of his saddle by the force of the arrow taking him in the chest. Arutha and the others made ready. A dozen moredhel riders milled about, startled at the sudden bow fire. Before they could react, Martin had another down. Three turned and rode away, but the others charged.
The outcropping reared up and spread out, making it impossible for the moredhel to overrun them, but they came at full gallop anyway, their horses’ hooves making dull thunder upon the still-damp ground. Though they rode close to the necks of their horses, two more were taken by Martin’s bow before they reached the stone redoubt. Then the moredhel were upon them. Baru leapt atop the rocks, his long sword a blur as he sliced through the air. A moredhel fell, his arm severed from his body.
Arutha ran up and jumped from the rocks, dragging a Dark Brother from the saddle. The moredhel died under his knife. He spun in place, his rapier coming from its sheath as another rider charged. The Prince stood his ground until the last, then with a sideways leap and a slash unseated the rider. A quick thrust, and the moredhel died.
Roald pulled one from his saddle and they both slid down into the protection of the rocks. Jimmy waited as they rolled about, then, when he saw an opening, another Dark Brother died as the boy used his dirk.
The two remaining saw Laurie and Martin ready, and chose to retreat. Both died as Martin’s bow sang in the morning light. As soon as they were out of the saddle, Martin was over the rocks. He quickly scavenged the bodies and returned with a short bow and two quivers of arrows. ‘I’m almost out,’ he said, indicating his depleted quiver. ‘These are no cloth-yard shafts, but I can use this little horse bow if I need.’
Arutha looked about. ‘There’ll be more along soon.’
‘Do we run?’ asked Jimmy.
‘No. We would only gain a little, and we might not find a place nearly as defensible. We wait.’
Minutes passed and all waited with eyes turned towards the trail they knew the moredhel would use to attack them. Laurie whispered, ‘Run, Galain, run.’
For what seemed an eternity the woods were silent. Then in clouds of dust, with hooves pounding the ground, horsemen came into view.
The giant mute, Murad, rode in the van, a dozen Black Slayers behind him. Other moredhel and human renegades followed. Murad reined in, signalling for the others to halt.
Jimmy groaned. ‘There’s a hundred of them.’
Roald said, ‘Not a hundred, more like thirty.’
Laurie said, ‘That’s enough.’
Arutha looked over the rock, saying, ‘We may be able to hold for a few minutes.’ They all knew it was hopeless.
Then Baru stood. And before anyone could prevent him, he started shouting at the moredhel, in a language unknown to Jimmy, the Prince, and Martin. Laurie and Roald shook their heads.
Arutha began to reach for the hillman, but Laurie said, ‘Don’t. He’s challenging Murad to personal combat. A matter of honour.’
‘Will he accept?’
Roald shrugged. ‘They’re a funny lot. I’ve fought the Dark Brothers before. Some of them are cut-throat renegades. But most are caught up in honour and ritual and the like. Depends on where you find them. If that lot’s a gang of moss-troopers from north Yabon, they’ll simply attack. But if Murad’s got a band of old-fashioned deep-forest Dark Brothers under his command, they may not take kindly to him saying no. If he’s trying to show some magic powers are backing him, he can’t rightly refuse and keep their loyalty. But mostly it depends on what Murad thinks about matters of honour.’
‘Whatever’s the outcome, Baru’s thrown them into confusion,’ observed Martin.
Arutha could see the moredhel standing about while the mute stared impassively at Baru. Then Murad waved his hand towards Baru and the others. A moredhel in a cloak rode forward, turning his horse to face Murad, and said something in a questioning tone.
The mute motioned again, and the moredhel who confronted him waved the other away. The moredhel riders, except for those wearing black armour, retreated their mounts several yards. One of the humans rode up and turned his horse to face Murad. He shouted something at the moredhel leader, several other humans behind echoing the tones.
‘Martin,’ said Arutha, ‘can you make out what’s being said?’
‘No. But whatever it is, it isn’t flattering, that’s for certain.’
Suddenly Murad drew his own sword and struck the offending human. Another human shouted something and seemed ready to ride forward, but two moredhel rode to intercept him. With a sullen expression the first brigand turned his horse and rode back to join the other humans.
Murad again gestured towards the humans, and charged his horse.
Baru leapt from the rocks and ran a short way forward to take up position. He stood his ground, his sword drawn back to strike. As the horse was almost upon him, Baru lashed out with a circling step that took him from harm’s way, and the horse nickered in pain as it stumbled.
The wounded animal went down. Murad, despite his bulk, rolled from the falling animal and came up, sword still in hand. He was quick and turned in time to meet Baru’s attack. The two combatants clashed, steel ringing on steel.
Arutha looked about. The dozen Black Slayers waited quietly, though for how long Arutha did not know. With Murad involved in a matter of honour, they might wait until the issue was decided. The Prince fervently hoped so.
All eyes watched; Martin said, ‘Don’t let down your guard. As soon as this is over, either way, they’ll hit us again.’
‘At least I can catch my breath,’ said Jimmy.
Arutha surveyed the area. Twenty more moredhel were approaching the area. All Baru did was buy them time.
Murad struck out and was struck in return. Within minutes both combatants were a mass of bleeding wounds, testimony to how each was able almost to deliver a death blow, but not quite. Cut and parry, lunge and riposte, slash and dodge, the struggle went on. The Hadati was equal in height to the moredhel, but the dark elf bulked larger. With a series of overhead, clubbing blows, Murad began to drive Baru back.
Martin brought his sword to the ready. ‘Baru’s tiring. It’ll be over soon.’
But like a dancer timing his moves to the music, Baru let Murad fall into a pattern. Up and down the sword rose and fell, then, when it was rising, Baru ceased his retreat, instead stepping forward and to the side. With a sweeping cut, he sliced Murad’s ribs. It was a deep cut that bled fiercely.
‘That’s a surprise,’ Martin said calmly.
‘Damn fine move,’ said Roald in professional appreciation.
But Murad didn’t let the surprising blow finish him. He turned in place and grabbed the Hadati’s sword arm. Murad was off balance, but he pulled Baru down with him. They grappled and rolled down the hill towards the rocks where Arutha st
ood. Weapons slipped from blood-wet fingers and the two combatants struck at each other with fists.
Then they were up again, but Murad had his arms about Baru’s waist. Hoisting the Hadati into the air, the moredhel placed interlocked hands in the small of Baru’s back, squeezing to break his spine. Baru’s head went back as he cried out in pain. Then he brought his hands together in a thunderous slap over the moredhel’s ears, rupturing his eardrums.
Murad gave a warbling, gurgling cry of pain as he dropped Baru. The creature covered his ears with his hands, blinded by pain for a moment. Baru reared back and struck the moredhel in the face with his fist, a staggering blow that pulped Murad’s nose, broke some teeth, and split his lip.
Again Baru struck him in the face, jerking his head back, and again. The Hadati seemed on the verge of clubbing the moredhel to death. But Murad gripped Baru’s wrist and pulled him down, and again they rolled upon the ground.
Then Murad was atop Baru, and each had his hands around the other’s neck. With grunts of pain and exertion, the two began choking each other.
Jimmy reached down and took a dagger from the body of the dead moredhel at his feet, to supplement his dirk. Martin said, ‘Soon. Soon.’
Murad bore down with all his weight, his face turning red, as did Baru’s. Neither could breathe, and it was only a question of who succumbed first. Baru bore the bulk of the moredhel atop him, but Murad had a deep wound in his side, which still bled, weakening him as every second passed.
Then, with a grunt and sigh, Murad fell forwards onto Baru. There was silence in the woods for a long moment before Murad moved. With a roll he fell over, off Baru. The Hadati slowly rose. Taking a knife from the moredhel’s own belt, he slowly cut Murad’s throat. Sitting back upon his heels, Baru breathed deeply. Then, with deliberate contempt for his own danger, he plunged his knife deep into Murad’s chest.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked Roald.
Martin said, ‘Remember what Tathar said about the Black Slayers. He’s cutting Murad’s heart out, just in case he might try to rise again.’