Exhiles of Osmar #5
Flight and Strange Discovery
Jon had been careless, and he knew it. He patted his mount, realizing just how he had treated the poor animal. Footing, while easy, required a slow and steady pace. He stopped the horse and dismounted. He provided what little feed was in the saddlebag and grabbed his pack. Slapping the horse hard on the rear, it started back down the path. Jons continued on foot. He was close.
He continued his pace until he reached a wide clearing below a large shelf. It was here in the moonlight he saw the old man, broken, bent at a strange angle. Dismayed, he kneeled, checking for the life force he knew was no longer present. The message had been terrible enough, but seeing him here felt the same as a blow to Jon’s mid-section. The reality of seeing death face-to-face in one you care for crashes like angry ocean breakers against rocks as the lifeless eyes no longer move to meet your gaze. Reaching down, he closed his eyes and took the chain he wore, bearing the likeness of a small silver fox. The fox seemed to move in the light of the full moon. He knew the old man wanted him to have it one day, but that day was to be in the distant future. Not now. Jons sighed, leaving a trail of soft noises with the deep heave of his chest.
It was then he realized he was not alone. Staying in the same position, he noticed footprints 10 paces away. He paused his breathing and listened. His carelessness may cost him his life, but not without a fight, he resolved. Who ever did this to Greypaw will pay. Not hearing any sounds amiss, he crouched and made his way to the path leading to the ledge above. A lone sentry leaned against a small pine, oblivious to his surroundings. It was effortless for Jon to push his knife into the soft throat. I did not seem real to press a blade through the flesh, the only tell was a soft gurgle. The man’s eyes were wide with fright as Jon lowered him to the ground. “That’s one for the old man”, Jon whispered.
Crawling like an insect, he made his way to the shelf proper. There, he spied four small tent shelters in a makeshift camp. They lay out in a square. The head of each man was at the feet of the next. As Jon slid towards the closest, he felt uneasy. Something was wrong. Just as he froze, he heard something flying in through the moonlight towards him. Moving right and turning, he spun his left arm into the object. A small axe connected with the flat of the blade intended for his back. A yellow flash of pain ran through him.
The noises were rousing the four sleepers. This was not good, mused Jon as he searched for the thrower. Deciding not to wait, he bounded towards the four men, exposing his backside. He kicked one in the head and kept running by. Jon knew the trails ahead led deeper into the mountains, and he knew most of the hiding places. Whoever hit him was good, but this land he had traveled for the past 16 summers. Oblivious now to his throbbing arm, he ran on as the rabbit from the hound. The path turned twisting to the left over a ravine hidden from the moonlight. Jon barreled onward, dropping into the dark ravine, moving by feeling hoping to either lose his pursuers or fight them one-on-one as they stumbled onward. “Maybe I should have gone for help…” he mutters, pressing on.
Chapter 2
Jon groped through the thick darkness. Using every sense he had and all his abilities, he moved more swiftly than most have thought possible. He stopped to catch his breath and listened. Noises at the mouth of the ravine showed his pursuers were descending towards his position. Pressing on, he moved deeper towards the mountain, which felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. He could not remember where the ravine led. It surprised him he found a natural recess that could be a shallow cave. Not daring to expose any source of light, he waited.
His hunters had no such concerns, and beams from 3 hooded lanterns pierced the black like impossible sun rays. Something flickered and shot into the sky above, sparking and burning as it fell back to the earth. It was enough to show his position. Jon readied his blade as the man came at him, holding a lantern in his offhand and a curved blade in his right. The blade struck the stone and sparked as Jon twisted sideways, slashing the man’s shoulder and then sinking the weapon to the hilt into his thigh. The man yelled, his breath hot on Jon’s cheek and he swing his off-hand, striking Jon’s in the side with the lantern. He felt the stinging heat burn past his clothing. As the man dropped to one knee, Jons smashed his elbow into the jaw with a crack.
The next attacked with an axe as an arrow bounced against the rock as another fired his bow. Jon had to free his sword and block with his offhand forearm to parry the incoming blow. He felt pain as cold steel bit his forearm. He stumbled back into the recess. The passage seemed to swallow him as it continued deeper into the mountain. He determined the passage could be only an arm span wide. He continued to evade and parry with his now free sword. Dropping and lunging, he slashed the man’s abdomen but took another blow from the axe in his shoulder. “I will die here”, he thought.
Jon turned and fled farther into the cave, shoulder throbbing and side still burning. There were at least three more pursuers and he needed to even the odds. He stumbled as the cave floor raised a finger’s height to a smooth floor of stone. His mind raced at this new discovery. Where did this come from? How had they missed it all these years? As he lifted himself with effort, he moved farther in. He then pushed against a solid wooden door bound with metal. Jon pounded on the door with his sword hilt, hoping desperately someone was home. Time to worry later if they were friendly or not.
Seconds stretched and lingered. Jon put his back to the door and waited. He knew it would not be long now. Strange pain came from his thigh. He felt the arrow pierce his breeches and warm blood seeped. Now his right leg bore his weight, and he braced at the ready. Jon saw by lantern light the man stepping into view, lowering a bow. “Ahhh, and so the halfbreed dies”, he spoke drawing his sword. The probing swing was barley parried. “Halfbreed?”, Jon thought of more questions. Four more blows and Jon’s sword was knocked aside, rattling as it hit the stone floor. Sinnon poised for the killing blow.
Jons pressed hard against the door, feeling for his dagger or field knife. His world moved violently as the door pulled inward behind. Jon fell, hitting the stone hard. Before he lost consciousness, a shadow brought cool darkness. The sound of steel clashing with steel produced wonderful patterns of sparks. Jon’s world ceased.
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