Chapter 14. The decision
After the victory at the river's ford, nothing could stop the horde of darkness. When they crossed the river, the conquering army dispersed in many small groups and scattered through the undefended land. The Lord of Doom set his hounds free to grab the reward they were fighting for. After that, they will go further south, all the way to the mountains, and beyond, because there was not a force in this world which could stop them. The storm clouds were their faithful followers, and thick, stinking rain wetted the ground everywhere they marched.
Out of sheer malevolence, the Lord of Doom resurrected some corpses of the warriors that died at the river ford, and forced them to serve him even in their death, spreading terror among the people who were still free. The hell-birds were circling in the skies and plunging at the columns of fugitives, bringing panic.
The people of Ledonia did not have much time for escape. The news of the defeat of king’s army went through the land like a forest fire. People knew that no one could protect them any more, and that their only hope was to flee to the south. The whole villages were now on the road. Some thought the forests will provide them enough protection, because the invader’s army will avoid them, but those did pay their mistake dearly. The Lord of Doom did not want the green forests in his empire, because they were reminding him of freedom. Therefore his beasts destroyed the trees with equal zeal as they destroyed men, with fire and evil magic which caused the very roots of the giant trees to rot. Death threatened the forests.
Orin was sitting at the old trunk, looking blankly at the distance through the filthy wisps of his hair. The dusk of the forest was melting slowly into the darkness of the night. Around him, the sounds of the camp were turning quiet now. People finished their meagre meals of dried meat in the darkness, because no one dared to light a fire. From time to time, a child would cry, but only shortly, silenced quickly by his mother’s voice. The odour of fear washed through the small camp, sticking to the skin like forest moisture. The prince did not think much about the people around him. He met them the day before, a sorry group, a score of peasants, hurrying to the south, carrying only food and water. They did not have a plan, except to try to reach the mountains and cross to the other side. The chances for that equalled the chance that the Lord of Doom retreated with his army back to the north. The prince was not sure if the fugitives were aware of what was to become of them. Besides the fear that drove them ahead, they nurtured a flicker of mad hope of rescue after all. And the hope was almost impossible to destroy. It is the incarnation of irrationality in human beings, defying all dark, unalterable facts, but also a confirmation of man’s foolishness, incapability to understand the reality. In truth, hope is the only thing that makes man’s journey through the hell of life possible, and enables him to leave this world with a smile on his face, convinced that he will wake up again in some other, better place. Orin did not believe in anything any more, but he also did not want to destroy the hope of these men, so he kept himself aside, talking only when it was necessary. They accepted him as a strong man with a sword, who will increase their chances for escape. He told them about the defeat of the king’s army, but all those gruesome details which were rushing through his mind unceasingly he kept for himself. The sounds of battle never left him. Bloody faces, screams of horror, unstoppable march of the horde and the complete ruin of the desperate army did not allow him a minute of sleep. His thoughts were broken, unconnected. He thought about destiny, despair and death, about his friend who remained at the battlefield and whom he will not see ever again; he thought about his distant home in the Plain Countries, about the madness which caused him to left it, and about the mysterious Dragon Rock. The secret of the Ring of the Kings will remain a secret. What really was the ultimate power he yearned for? Now it all came clear to him - he never had an idea how to gain it. He thought it was enough to rush toward it, and the rest of the world will take care that the prince of the Plain Countries, Orin ar den Raamternan, whose wishes never went unfulfilled, gets what he wanted. What an incredible fool I was! thought he. A man like me could never get to Dragon Rock. Arios, yes, he could have found a way. He had enough wisdom and knowledge. But it never mattered to him enough. He didn’t want power because he did not know what to do with it. And he was afraid of it.
However, it was all over now. Their quest was interrupted abruptly, the sorcerer was dead for sure, and he had not enough power to save his own skin.
So, why the two of us did meet, after all? What once seemed like fate was not much more than pure chance. And how does the elven prophecy fit into this picture? Are they nothing more than a bunch of fools, too?
He was not aware of the moment when his exhausted body allowed the dream to receive it into its refreshing embrace. He fell from the trunk and sprawled on the wet ground, not feeling the cold.
When he opened his eyes again, the pale sunlight of the early morning broke through the thick treetops. He looked around; people were sleeping, gathered close for warmth. He felt strong heartbeats in his throat. Something was not right. It was cold; the morning mist had not appeared yet. And it was unusually quiet. He realized then that it was the silence which alarmed his sharpened sense of danger. He rose quietly, trying not to disturb the silence. His sword was lying beside him, and he slowly unsheathed the bright blade from the rugged scabbard. Then he ran to the nearest man who was sleeping on the ground with his family, and shook him by the shoulder. At that moment, the bush around the camp exploded. The next few minutes remained blurred for him ever after. The black wolf shapes came from the woods and lunged at the sleeping people. They jumped from the ground in panic, not completely realizing what was happening, and started to run away. The piercing shrieks of women overpowered the growling of the beasts. The stench of the predators filled the glade, soon mixing with the stench of torn human entrails. Orin stood for a moment, stupefied by the scene, and then he felt the urge for survival. A huge beast which chose him for its prey fell to the ground before him, its head cleaved, and his sword was already rising for the next blow. The movement was automatic, done without thinking. The recent battles showed Orin the importance of immediate action, better than any lecture before. Keol’s teaching became a part of him, not only an interesting doctrine to think about. By thinking, one can miss an opportunity for acting, and a missed opportunity meant failure: for a warrior, that meant death. The sword impaled the next attacker in the air, but the massive body fell on the prince.
Suddenly, from the other side of the bushes and the treetops, a cloud of arrows came. The next moment, all the animals on the glade were twisting in their death spasms. Another wave of arrows, and the surviving wolves disappeared in the direction they came from. They had no intention of fighting against invisible, more numerous enemies. The assault stopped, and there was silence on the glade once again. About a dozen survivors rose slowly from the ground, looking in disbelief the devastating effect of the battle. Orin dragged himself from below the corpse with great effort and stood up, covered with blood. He looked in the direction of the unexpected salvation. For a time, nothing was visible, and then, parts of the bushes began to move. From the woods appeared men and women dressed in uncommon multi-coloured clothes, whose colour patterns were perfectly camouflage for the surrounding colours of nature, almost invisible until they moved, and then only as a blur.
“Look!” shouted someone.
“Who are they?” The surviving people gathered in a crowd. At this moment, they weren’t able to distinct friend from enemy. Then, Orin saw two familiar figures approaching.
“Saim! Nai! You are alive!” cried he.
“Men, don’t be afraid! These are friends! The Hunters of mountain lions!”
He hugged the twins who were trying to avoid the prince’s strong hands.
“I was sure you died back there, in the Eagles’ fortress! What happened?” The questions were many, and time was short.
Nai looked at him and said in their language, which Orin now
understood, thanks to the sorcerer’s gift: “There isn’t much for telling. We escaped, returned home. Hunters don’t die so easily. There’s always time for death.”
“But what are you doing here? How did you find us?” interrupted Orin.
The girl looked at him. “Keol came and spoke to me. He said – a great evil is coming, find the prince and help him, he’s in trouble. He must escape from his enemies. He led our steps far to the north, all the way to the great forest. There, we met the forest people. They helped us, led us to you. They know what is happening in the forest, but they are not strong enough to fight.”
“Elves!” said Orin.
“Yes, that’s your name for them. Their forest will die if no one stops the evil. And they will die too.”
“But, how is it possible that Keol lives? His body’s been found. Arios knew he was dead! How could he lead you here? And where is he now?”
“Too many questions,” stated Saim. “Keol spoke to us in a dream. He walks this earth no longer.”
“Are you telling me that you speak with the dead?” said Orin, astonished.
“Are you telling me that you don’t?” replied Saim in wonder.
Orin fell silent. There were too many surprises in such a short time, and in such a bad moment.
“Enough stories,” Nai interrupted. “No use of it. We must go away. They will return soon.” The rest of the Hunters were already helping people to gather their possessions and to tend the wounded.
The journey through the forest was quick. The fugitives hurried ahead, led by one of the Hunters, while the rest of the tribe were hiding the traces hastily, and listening to the green forest dusk. Everyone knew the time was precious - the pursuers were immediately behind them, more numerous than the trees in the forest. No one talked; the only sound in the column was the panting of the exhausted people. They rested shortly, slept only three hours a day. Still, no one gave up; in those who were left, the will to live conquered the limitations of the body, at least for those few days of the journey. Soon, they left the soothing silence of the forest, and entered the wave-like landscape of the Ledonian fields. Now, the blue wall of the distant mountains in the south was clearly visible ahead of them; their only chance for escape, however small, lay in crossing those mountains. Along the way, they were meeting other groups of refugees, smaller or bigger, who succeeded to escape from the pursuers. The thin streams of the fugitives became rivers - until finally, a group of several thousand people travelled southward, where, they believed, salvation expected them.
The Hunters of the mountain lions took the charge discretely. Their quiet way of handling issues, their right decisions and actions, without giving commands, soon convinced people that they knew what they were doing. Because of their skills, or simply pure luck, the escape to the lowest slopes of the Blue Mountains went without encounters with the pursuers. Then they started to ascend through the grassy pastures, coming at least to the steep rocky cliffs which separated the Blue Mountains from the northern lands. And here, standing before the impassable obstacles, people became aware of one thing they did not want to know during the journey - their hopes were futile. Only the Hunters could cross the Mountains. The peasants of Ledonia were not used to climbing, because they viewed the Mountains as some magical place from time immemorial. There was not a way for a few Hunters to get several thousand people across the cliffs. For the refugees, this was the last stand.
It became obvious that the Lord of Doom knew that fact from the beginning, leaving his prey to come to the end of hope. When he finally reaches them with his army, no one will have strength or spirit to fight back. His victory will be complete, and the revenge terrible. Then, he can plan further conquers in the south, spreading through the rest of the world.
The Hunters did not give up the crossing of the mountains, of course; it was not a problem for them. Nai and Saim wanted Orin to go with them. They saw no sense in a useless sacrifice for the people who were doomed anyway.
“How can I leave them?” said Orin. “How can I live with myself, knowing I left my companions to die? The only choice I have is to stay and die with them! Don’t you understand?”
Saim did not understand.
“Our old ones go away from the tribe to die alone on the mountain. When they are no more useful, they do not ask of the tribe to feed them. So, they go away and die. That, I can understand. That is sacrifice for others. But, for whom are you making the sacrifice if you stay? Can you help anyone?”
“No,” admitted Orin.
“Would someone hold it against you?”
“No. In fact, I don’t know any of these people. But, that’s not the reason. I would hold it against myself. Therefore I’m staying.”
Saim shook his head sadly.
“Such a long yourney to save a friend. Now, he refuses to be saved.”
He looked at the prince. “All right. You’ve made your decision. We will stay two more days to help you prepare the defence. Then we leave.”
Orin did not think much about his decision to die at this place. For him, it was a course of events he expected anyway. The dream of the Dragon Rock ended long ago. It was not even visible in the north; the darkness which the Lord of Doom brought clouded the horizon. The ultimate power was a fabrication, an illusion, like Dragon Rock. The Upper Realms are too high for mortals.
My obsession was caused by mighty spells, cast because of unknown reasons, he thought.
Someone probably wanted to put me away so he could destroy my father more easily. I don’t think I can return to the Plain Countries; maybe they even put a price on my head. The only real friend I ever had is dead. All that is left to me is to follow his way.
The prince of the Plain Countries was lost in gloomy thoughts, but he did not allow them to influence his actions. Now, he wanted only to sell his life dearly. They needed to prepare the defence. The place where they made their camp was adequate - in the south, the vertical cliffs blocked the way up, while the big rocks shielded their backs on the northern side. The enemy will be forced to a hard climb, under a rain of arrows. Those who did not heard of the battle at the Grey River even dared to hope they could defend the place; Orin, however, did not believe in it for a moment. The Lord of Doom has found a way to cross much harder obstacles. Two days later, everything that could be done was done. They gathered rocks for rolling at the enemy, they’ve made reserves of water from the near streams, and everything that could serve as food - roots, grass, and some game - all in all, a poor preparation for what was coming. The Hunters stayed a few more days, to make their secret potions, which will strengthen the will of the defenders, and make the pain of the wounds lesser.
In the evening of the fourth day, the lower slopes were crawling with black shapes - at first, few of them, careful and quickly hiding from the view, and then more, like ants coming to the carrion. Soon, the meadows were darkened by the demon army. The tiny sparkle of hope disappeared from the hearts of even the most optimistic refugees.
Then, the night fell.