Chapter One Part III

“Aedomir, Aedomir! Wake up!” Aedomir’s eyes opened partway, and his vision burst into action. Above him shimmered a battle-worn face, whose hoarse lips trembled and panted deeply.

“Someone call me?” He gave a hearty smile as best he could and slowly rose. His left leg had stiffened and he took great difficulty in moving it. The man, who he now recognised as Gortim, had taken to smiling profusely and had caught on to Aedomir’s arm. After a heave Aedomir stood on the rocky ground, leaning against the boulder. “Where are we?” He looked around the torch-lit room through squinting eyes and attempted to separate shape from shape.

“Sorry it’s a bit dull in here,” He said jovially. “We just about managed to drag your body out of the rocks, along with… Captain Aganost.”

A tearing pain ripped inside Aedomir’s heart. He focused all attention into solemnly gazing at the floor, in an attempt to avoid eye contact with Gortim. Fortunately, he had turned away from Aedomir and but could still be seen from the corner of his eyes. “I did what I could, you know… He was a great man, Aganost.” Aedomir took a deep breath and looked across to Gortim’s back. “He made me realise… One leader could not rule our lives. Unless we had stuck together all these years we would be dead.” His voice trailed off into thought.

“Alas, we must move on.” Gortim spun round and forced a weak smile onto his face, however it could have just been the dim light mirroring off his face. “Shall we?”

Aedomir nodded and limped to Gortim, who stood to one side of short corridor. The cave was damp. Small drops of water were dribbling from overhead, splashing onto his hair and trailing down his cheeks like tears. It was only then that he realised he was soaking wet. He looked down at his drenched cloak. “Sorry about that, the waterfall.” Gortim said, almost mind-reading. They passed into a large circular room.

As Aedomir hobbled in, two rangers standing next to the door stopped mid-sentence and fixated their eyes on his. He whipped his eyes away, only to greet a man at the far end of the room, impassively sharpening the edge of his sword on a jagged rock. He counted six men, including himself and Gortim.

Six.

Thirty able men had left with him from Orchis. That makes twenty five men dead. Fallen in cerise snow. Even now their bodies would be rotting away. “Where are the dead?” Aedomir asked as he turned to Gortim.

“We managed to carry five away; you, Aganost, Thradum, Keyrl and Debose.”

Keyrl. Only joined a week back. They found him lying face down in a puddle when Aedomir rescued him. “Where are they?”

“In a dugout over there.” He pointed to another cave corridor and sighed. “We should dispose of them and move on if we’re to survive the night.”

After an awkward silence, Aedomir twitched his nose and bellowed a deep yawn that echoed through the chamber. “We were almost fooling ourselves to think we would be left alone. There’s no point in pondering any longer, we must do what we can for the dead, then leave.” He frowned and risked a glance to Gortim. “How long have I been out?”

“Few hours? We’ve not left for a while; Kalbarc patrols are heavy after nightfall let alone what other creatures nature is ready to throw at us.”

“We should get some sleep, well you at least. I will be on guard, I think you deserve that.” Gortim nodded and turned to tell the men, but before his mouth could open Aedomir placed his hand on his shoulder. “Actually, no. I will go outside and harvest what food I can.” Gortim went to protest but found himself concurring with Aedomir and pointing to a dark corner.

“The door is over there but be careful, shall I—” But he had gone, off into the wilderness.

#

Through the narrow passage, fresh air greeted him. Also, the sound of trickling water met his ears, and a gushing waterfall came into view. That’s what Gortim meant then, they had taken refuge in a waterfall. He appeared to be the base, with steamy water spraying into the cavern, and galleons of water falling asunder. He could see his reflection shining gracefully back; the scruffy, loose brown hair that tickled his neck; the scruffy overall, patched in every corner, and the pure blue eyes. For a moment he stood under the water just bathing in its splendour. The hose of water presented a refreshing soak to the touch and he felt renewed by the shear force of power above him.

After a short paddle downstream, the river’s banks sloped in and a snow-topped forest worked its way into sight. The stream slowly withered away into the ground. He climbed out and gently ran his fingers through his hair, gravely staring at the mass of dark shapes. As he stepped towards the forest, pacing long strides, he began to hum the accounts of the day:

Scar-Turner he sought

The vengeance of men

So help him he thought

And then it was then.

They slashed they held

Against such foes

But death was expelled

And lost were woes

To Suntary they came

And there they rested

Legs were lame

But soon battle had bested.

He broke off at the wood’s border. Carefully, he pushed the bushes aside and stepped in. Nothing could be seen through the pitch black atmosphere… Just a pair of bright, glowing eyes.