They didn’t jump up and agree right away, but it seemed the truth. Silence again as each of them considered the possibilities and the reasoning behind each. They sat there for the better part of the day, the three young travelers lost in their own deep thoughts.
After a lunch no one really ate, Rider Stroan returned with the new orders. “Well fellas…oh, and lady…” A nod of thanks from the lone female. “We ride out in an hour, and then we don’t stop unless something stops us. We go, day and night, until we make it to the Blood Sea and whatever awaits us there. We’re spreading the word to one and all that we go and go hard.”
It seemed a reasonable idea. The plan would, in theory, cut the remainder of travel time in half, leaving only another week in this dark and unforgiving valley.
Another thing to speed them along, thought Johan. If Aryu was still following as he hoped he was, each step further from the plan was a step away from him. At night, fires and smoke would have told him if they were below, but what now? A few lanterns to light the way? Not promising if he wanted to find them at night.
If he was on his way at all.
It had been more than two weeks since their separation in the mountain town, and Johan was getting more and more confident that if he hadn’t shown up yet, he likely wouldn’t show up at all. He quickly pushed the thought from his head.
“First though, we have another matter to attend to,” continued Stroan. They looked at him, wondering. Sadness on his face, “We need to bury our dead.”
The service was quick. Traditionally, a fallen Rider of the Inja Army would be set alight on pyres. Wood being a commodity they couldn’t spare at this time, they opted instead for graves of rock higher up the valley wall on a flat plateau. Quick words of honor spoken, tears wept by many (yet none by any other Rider or man from Tan Torna Qu-ay), and the party was off again, this time at as full a tilt as they could manage, the Turtle and its hobbled driver leading the way.
By the time night began to fall, it was obvious that things had changed. Rocks and debris no longer littered the roadway and travel was brisk. No one had to speak the words. The issues encountered up to this point were clearly intentional, and someone somewhere was in a holding pattern awaiting the next move. The stress in the air around them was thick as autumn fog. How long would they have to wait now? Days? Hours? No one knew, but every set of eyes was scanning the slopes above them, praying to see it before it saw them.
The day brought a chilled wind up the valley and hit them head on, slowing progress as dirt and dust kicked up, blinding the group at times, but still nothing.
By the end of the third day since the attack that had started the rush, the foolish, uneasy feeling of being through the thick of it crept into the faces of the civilian aspect of the caravan. More talk and laughter filled the air, and by the crack of dawn the next day, things seemed almost normal.
The young group of three and any Rider they saw knew the truth. Johan picked it out right away. Lulling them into an unguarded and false sense of (sleep deprived) security was exactly what he would have done if he wanted to hit hard and fast, and by the time breakfast was over, he looked to the high walls of the Paieleh Valley, heard the thunder of the coming carnage, and knew that he was right.
As the rush of unfathomably large Ruskan Stalkers crested the closest ridge and began pouring down at them, ungodly voices screaming as they dove down the loose rock, the security was lost in the panic of the people below. Johan and Esgona could only sigh and laugh to themselves as another glorious form of the luck they had lately showed its head, followed by a hardening of their nerves as they sprang forward, once more into the breach.
-----------------------
To say Skerd was afraid was an understatement. Still, there was no help for it. Even after explaining to all that would listen that this particular group of humans was far more dangerous than the previous ones had been, their time had run out and the rage of his fellow brothers was too much for logic and planning to overcome. Even the failed high-ground attack wasn’t enough to make them think it through entirely. They saw first-hand this group had defensive capabilities similar to the previous entrants into the valley, but time had run out and their blatant incursion into this land must stop here and now. There were no more ahead, no more behind. Just these ones, and now they had to be stopped, weapons and defenses of a higher quality be damned. With the loudest roar he could muster, the aged and battle-hardened Skerd of the Uhluktahn led the charge.
He’d gathered seven of the most reasonable members of his brotherhood for the attacks. None were close to his age, but many were similar in abilities and intelligence. Some were newcomers; the others had been with him during the raid on the village. All were angry with this group of useless people and were happy to see them suffer.
They came over the ridge following Skerd’s battle cry. If the humans weren’t afraid before, they certainly would be now.
The decorated men on horses weren’t as shaken as Skerd had hoped, and they wasted no time forming ranks in front of the carts. They were seemingly ready and waiting for this, but the others behind them were
