“Clever,” remarked Diagus. “Kill us once we’ve crossed and he can tell the General we broke through his guard. Sparing himself the indignity of informing him that he was bullied into letting us cross.”
Elora saw the rush of armoured men and horses begin to cross the bridge, riders jostling to get in front, hooves kicking chips and making dust from the old masonry.
“Yahh!” shouted Diagus, kicking his horse into a gallop.
Elora did the same, as did the rest of the group. Gripping the reigns tightly in both hands, she leaned over the saddle horn, pressing her knees into the mare’s flank whilst trying to stay atop. Adrenalin pumped from her heart as they raced down the narrow bridge, only the low brick walls on either side preventing them from plummeting into the fast-flowing river.
Hooves thundered and steel clattered amongst the shouts of men as the army took chase. The small group drove their mounts as hard as they could, the four guards at the other side of the bridge jumping clear of Ragna’s hammer as they rode through.
An arrow was loosed from a bow, but in his haste the guard missed, the projectile going high above Ragna as he almost fell from his horse; only Bray gripping his arm and pushing him back into his saddle, saving him.
As the grass flatland opened up before them, the horses gathered another burst of speed, lengthening the distance between them and their pursuers. They headed up the open field that gradually grew steeper towards the mountain range which formed the foothills. A copse of tall trees outlined the crest of a long spur that reached down the mountainside like a rocky arm kinking at the elbow.
Elora noticed that Nathanial slowed, his face creased up in concentration as he chanted a water rhythm.
“Nat, come on. What are you doing?” She risked a glance back and saw that the first few riders had cleared the bridge, close enough now for her to see how sharp their spears were. The rest of the army was a good way across, although some were now stopping to point up river, a few beginning to turn back. When she turned her head in the direction they were pointing she realised what her uncle had done.
A body of water rose twenty feet out of the river in a huge wave. It washed over the bridge with enough force to knock those that were on it over the stone wall. Another, bigger wave then crashed into the stone work, smashing the masonry to pieces as it followed its course.
Nat stopped chanting and opened his eyes. He glanced behind him at the destruction and let out a laugh. “Still got it.”
“Not for much longer if those riders catch us up,” replied Elora, spurring her horse onwards, Nat now keeping pace.
They reached the trees unscathed, the group splitting up as they cut between the low branches, then Diagus raised an arm, bringing them to a halt.
“The horses are spent. It’s time to fight,” he said, leaping from his horse and rushing back to the tree line. The rest of them followed his example, leaving their mounts where they were and reaching for weapons.
“I count twelve,” said Ejan, taking arrows from her quiver and sticking them in the ground at her feet. She put another against the string of her bow and stretched it back.
“Better odds than the last time. I doubt they even know they’ve been cut off from the main body,” said Bray.
In the distance, Elora watched as men floundered on the river, scrambling up the slippery bank away from the lethal current. Others helping them out or calming horses that had gone wild with panic. None attempted to cross without the bridge. Yet the riders thundered towards them, their mounts slick with sweat, bodies glistening in the sun.
“Send them a warning shot,” ordered Diagus, crow’s feet deepening on his withered face.
Ejan stared down the shaft of the arrow, adjusted her aim and let it fly. Elora watched its graceful flight as it ascended into the afternoon sky before falling in front of the lead horse.
The rider looked up, his face hidden beneath a polished helmet as he slowed the pace. He glanced behind them and slowed again, raising his arm and signalling to the others to halt. They had covered half the ground, appearing no bigger than Elora’s fist, if she cared to hold it out in front of her. But twelve armoured men on horseback, were still intimidating.
Dust kicked up from the horses as they stomped around, their snorts audible above the arguing soldiers.
“Reckon they’ll go back?” asked Ejan.
“They don’t want to look cowardly in front of their battalion,” replied Diagus. “Then again, I doubt they’d prefer to die in front of it. Send them another warning shot, remind them they’re in range.”
Ejan sent the warning arrow and pulled another from the ground by her feet and gave that air before the first had landed. It struck the field an inch from the first. The incredible feat of expert bowman ship wasn’t wasted on the men as they steered their horses back towards the river, then galloped away.
“Can’t say I blame them,” remarked Otholo. “I wouldn’t fancy riding against you lot, even with a battalion at my back.”
“Still, I think it best to put as much distance as we can between us and the army. When the General arrives, who do you think he’s going to send after us?” said Diagus, face as grim as ever.
“Debree, and he’s going to be nuttier than a pinbush squirrel,” laughed Otholo. “The closest bridge is more than twenty leagues up river and we could probably make it to the pass by tomorrow evening. Once we’re there we can block anyone following.”
“I want to be there by morning,” said Diagus.
“And more likely than not,” said Bray. “Debree will have men dug into defensive positions in the mountains as well as platoons patrolling this side of the river.”
“So that means, peacock, no more of your irritating songs. It’s by stealth we’ll reach Aslania,” said Diagus. Then turning to Ejan he asked. “Where’s Ragna too?”
Elora scanned about the tree line but couldn’t see the Viking, which was odd, as he was the largest amongst them. “Did he stay with the horses?” she asked.
“What, and miss a chance to swing the Fist?” answered Ejan, worriedly. She gathered up her arrows and set off back into the trees, concern creasing her brow.
As they neared their horses, Elora saw Ragna still sat upon his mount, one hand gripping the saddle horn, the other inside his cloak.
“What you are doing back here, napping?” chuckled Ejan, giving his leg a loving slap.
Elora smiled at seeing the affection, then she saw the trail of blood running from the corner of Ragna’s mouth. Ejan noticed it too.
“Raggy? What’s happened?” she asked, hands tightening on his leg.
Ragna, winced, closing his eyes tightly as blood began to seep into his beard.
“Got myself stuck. Didn’t even know it happened at the time, what with all the chasing and confusion.”
“Raggy?”
The Viking lifted his cloak free from his belly, revealing a black patch spreading over his chainmail vest - an arrow sticking out of his side. “Happened when we left the bridge,” he coughed; wine coloured blood dribbling from his lips and coating his teeth. “One of the guards, let loose...” He tried to speak more but his words were lost amongst a fit of coughing. When it finally subsided, his head flopped to the side and he toppled from the saddle.
