words.
They were all laughing now. “Just a little sport officer,” said the leader. A little fencing practice to while away the hours before the Captain returns from hunting a quarry… he seeks?”
They knew and all pretenses were gone.
Nicholas drew the guard’s sword. It felt heavy and cumbersome. It was not a fencing weapon, but then again the Veldt around him were unlikely to be using theirs with any finesse. He tried to lift himself up onto the balls of his feet, so that he could turn quickly, but the ill-fitting boots prevented that. He wanted to throw off the cloak but his mother’s ring was still in the flap, and he would never surrender that.
Reigel had warned him; but he had not expected to be facing death a second time so soon. He expected panic to well up from within, but no such thing happened; his mind remained clear and sharp. It was not fear made his skin tingle but anticipation. He knew his body was primed and ready. He could barely understand it as he twisted the sword warming, and preparing the muscles in his wrist and arm
They had taken the fighting stance. A low crouch, that poised them ready to spring forward at any opportunity of striking a cut. Their eyes darted back and forth as they passed their weapons from one hand to the other hand with a heavy slapping sound. They made little provoking jabs, testing his reaction.
Nicholas took it all in, still unperturbed by their actions. He was scared, he knew that by how his heart was beating, and he felt a tingling on the back of his hands and arms where his flesh felt as if it was crawling with insects, but it baffled him how and why he could find the whole situation slightly amusing. Although his body was showing alarm, his mind was calm. He knew they were trying to frighten him into making a lunge, or a desperate run; but he felt the need for neither. He knew he just had to keep his ground and make them come to him.
The leaders face had lost its grin as Nicholas continued to defy them. He snarled as the jabs became more and more threatening,
Nicholas responded to each thrust, with a simple defensive checking movement. It was as if it all was happening in slow motion. He could see that each time one of them intended to make a move his eyes flashed a look at his companions to ensure a clear thrust. Nicholas knew where they would strike even as they themselves did; all he had to do was watch their eyes. Even the one behind him signaled his intention through the eyes of the others.
“Too frightened to fight for your life, are you soldier boy,” snarled the leader stepping slightly to the side, signaling a lunge from behind.
Nicholas turned a little, and parried the slash to the ground, before he turned back to face the leader: still he said nothing.
They were obviously enraged by his lack of response, and tried moving closer together leaving a deliberate hole in their ranks where he could run. But again Nicholas knew this was a mistake, and stood his ground.
Seconds turned into a minute, their attacks becoming more savage as they became frustrated at their inability to make him react.
Nicholas knew that sooner or later he would miss a signal, or they would be lucky. Instead of just defending himself he must take the advantage. As the thought was going through his mind, the one who appeared to be the leader lunged forward with a reckless thrust.
Nicholas parried his blow away; then with a rapid twist of his wrist, slid his own blade down the other until it hit the hilt. In a single swift movement he caught on the grip and flicked the weapon out of his assailant’s hand, throwing it to land at the foot of one of his companions. Continuing the twist of the double-sided blade he cleaved the creatures hand in two to the wrist.
“Aiiiieeeee.” The scream was pitiful, a mixture of agony and disbelief. The Veldt grabbed at the bloody paw and clung it to his chest. The others ran to him in as if in comfort. All three started making the cry, shrieking in fear.
Looking at them cowering together with terrified eyes, it was clear that all thought of continuing the fight was gone. For a moment Nicholas felt pity. They had, had no feelings of mercy towards him a few moments before, but now they were at his, he had no stomach for killing, and sheathed his sword.
They responded immediately, turning and fleeing into the forest. Their dreadful cries lingering in his ears, long after they had been swallowed by the mist and distance.
Nick looked about their campsite. He was not a scavenger by nature, but then he had not been an outlaw either until a few days, or rather weeks ago, and something may be of use.
There were some tolerable blankets, and as he had brought none from the house he tied them to the saddle. There were flints, which he put into the pocket of the tunic, some items of food, which he would not touch, and the crossbow. A small weapon for him, but deadly at short distances all the same. He remembered the Veldt as they gave displays on the occasion of the village fair: shooting at targets. It had all looked very easy; although he was sure it was not, and a quiver full of arrows. The only other thing of interest was a small-unopened flagon of ale, and a small lantern for checking documents.
He hung the bow and quiver on the saddle horn, and put the ale in his pack.
Traveling during the day was too dangerous and now this. Travel on the road was becoming too much of a risk at any time. He had to seek a safer way to the mountains, and when all was said and done it did not matter where he entered upon them, for he still had no idea where to go.
He would watch for the next way that showed promise, but for tonight he had best be off, in case those creatures regained their courage, or had chance to warn others.
The way Nicholas rode generally followed the course of the river, but constricted by the lower foothills jutting into its course, the waterway meandered a great deal.
Ancient trees began to close in, so that the road Nicholas followed was at some times through forest, growing denser on both sides, and later, with the bank of the river on his left and open land.
It was only then that Nicholas could catch tantalizing glimpses of the moonlit snow high on the mountain. Soon with the coming ice, far more than its uppermost reaches would be capped in white.
The road by and large had only a slight gradient and he surmised that as it avoided the now more numerous hills that began to encroach its way, it had been built with carts and carriages in mind.
Though it lengthened the journey, it was easier on the horse. Something he was concerned about when he noticed that the animal’s breath was becoming much more noticeable in the chill air.
There was nothing he could do as they were already down to a slow trot, so that at the first noise or sign of movement from either direction he could turn into the forest for cover; which indeed he had done on a couple of occasions. One had turned out to be merchants going the opposite way to him, but the other a group of mounted Veldt, led by a soldier. He did not know if their purpose was to seek him, but it was his first thought.
He was now further than he had ever traveled from home. It was a totally strange land, and the few workers he had suddenly come upon at the roadside had spoken with an accent he had not heard before.
Night was giving way to day, as coming around a bend, still in a forested section; he heard the distant whinny of a horse. He pulled on the reins and slowly crept forward.
In the distance he could see a bridge, and beyond that he could just make out a group of horses tied together. He quickly retreated back around the bend. Taking his horse a little way into the trees he dismounted; wrapped the reins around a sapling and moved closer for a better look.
There had been a number of fords, draining runoff from the mountains over the road, but this made only the third bridge, and from the look of it, the largest. The other two had crossed waters both fast flowing, and deep. If this was a larger waterway, and it seemed to be, then the chances of crossing above or below it did not bode well.
On the other bank he could clearly see several horses, maybe as many as ten. To the side of them, a whiff of white smoke: lit from the hidden but glowing fire beneath, curled into the sky. Sniffing into
the wind Nicholas could just smell the cooking of pork, or that may have been his imagination, for he realized that the last that he had eaten, had been while hiding at the copse. He felt the faint pangs of hunger, and needed a fire so that he could bake the flour and salt to make loaves; soft on the inside, and hard of crust that he had a craving for. The desire made it seem less of a dangerous act than he had considered a short while ago. Later he would eat, and eat well, but not around here.
As he continued looking, it came to his notice that a small track ran off on the right of the road just before the bridge.
This was likely one of the tracks cut to the foothills by those seeking the exotic timbers that grew there. How he knew that he could not remember, but know it he did. Such wood was much prized for the building of furniture in the great houses of the rich.
There was no way to pass over the bridge without being seen, but somewhere up the creek there had to be a crossing. Leading the horse on foot he went back from where they had come and crossed the road
Nicholas looked up trying to get bearings on the stars so that he could cut a direction to intersect the path and not wander off into the depths of the forest, but the clouds drawn to the peaks made it difficult. His frustration was short lived for as soon as the trees closed about them the sky disappeared, and the