That same enigmatic man was pushing through the valley and back towards the road where a large, bearded warrior was looking East, making sure the roving patrol didn’t get too close. Graham rode up next to him, staring at the same speck near the forest. “Are we going to kill them?” Sam asked, pulling the axe off of his back. It was a large, heavy, two-sided weapon with a spike on the end of the handle and one between the two edges, a large dark green emerald placed on the face of one side.
Graham shook his head, “No. Twenty dead soldiers would draw a lot of attention. More than we want. I just want to get them as far away as possible. I would rather have them hunting us as opposed to coming across them.”
Sam grinned slightly, “There’s twenty…you’re not scared?”
Graham managed a slight smile as he began to ride, “Nay. I’m going to scare them.” The man urged his horse onward with his heels on both sides of the animal, charging towards the oncoming patrol.
“Crazy as always,” muttered Sam, following his lead.
Graham had ridden for nearly two miles before they finally saw him. A well dressed, seemingly uptight man led the soldiers from atop his horse. He saw Graham approaching quickly and tried to keep his mount calm. Graham kept his head low. Not that he worried anyone would recognize him—word didn’t travel that fast. They had left the town before anyone realized what had even happened, and he didn’t leave Gerin conscious long enough to get a good look at him, at least not to relay it to others.
No, Graham kept his head down for a different reason. Leaning against his horse he made every attempt to look like he was bracing for impact. And he was. Crashing into the commander was a good way to get them to chase. Yet as he drew closer and saw the other soldiers, one of them looking wide-eyed and frightened while holding the King’s flag, did another idea arise. “Perfect…” he grinned.
“HALT!” the leader screamed, trying to convey a sense of confidence and order, all while his horse jostled him around, “I said HALT!”
But that only spurred Graham on to race right past him, seemingly oblivious. The flag-holder panicked. Graham had ridden up so quickly that the others had the same reaction. At first they tried to form a line, but the closer Graham got the more disorganized they became, until finally they scattered to avoid being trampled.
Graham reached his hand out, snagging the top of the flag and ripping it free from the soldier’s grip before he could withdraw. Graham didn’t slow his pace one bit as he rushed on, well past the group. The soldiers, as well as the commander looked on, stunned and speechless. They were half-tempted to give chase, though waiting for permission from their leader; who had long since faced forward, eyeing another—much larger—rider.
“May as well emphasize the point…” Sam said as he trampled along, pushing close to the leader who only had time to let his eyes go wide as Samsun extended his arm out straight and forced his palm into the man’s chest. The blow yanked the wind out of his body as he somersaulted over the horse’s rump and landed face first in the dirt. Fists and hands clutched and grabbed at Sam, but he was traveling far too fast for any of them to have the desired effect.
Samsun rode on, chasing Graham who was not looking back. Had it been anyone else, someone of higher rank or more experience—like Gerin—Graham would have worried that they may sense the decoy and push onward to where he had come from. But the commander was up moments later, dusting himself off and mounting his horse, directing his army to follow.
Graham smiled and paid attention to the road ahead, pushing his horse harder still. Losing them would be easy. Drawing them far enough away while still keeping them on his trail was going to be the hard part—especially in the dark. He would ride all the way back to Tarnel if need be, as long as the others were safe—as long as she was safe.
He could have killed them, it probably would have been easier to allow Elryia to let her magick loose and Samsun his axe, but this was a touchy situation. Though he wondered if the incident in Tarnel was too much, as he pondered upon it later he realized that it only helped to create the air of mystery he had been planning all along. Gerin was a warrior, he had pride and he would obsess, train, and drive himself insane for the chance at revenge—a chance to redeem himself, only he would do it alone.
Graham didn’t bother with the previous events; an unconscious General was a challenge only unto him. Twenty dead soldiers was a declaration of war, and he was not ready for war. Not yet.
All he could do—safely--was lead them away, bide his time till morning broke and drop the flag before disappearing into the southern-forest—something he was incredibly good at. He just prayed that Sam’s actions didn’t compel the commander to seek them beyond morning and weariness.