Chapter 4.1 (Cornerstone)

Author's Notes: 1,916 words.  Edited upon request (perhaps not perfectly, but I'm tired and depressed).  I hate the writing, though the underlying story is still fairly good.  At least I'm experimenting with puns and humor for a change.

The hills were alive with the sound of a speeding horse.

Yorew goaded on the creature as the trio dashed in and amongst the gradual hills and rises within Exedor. Though Yorew had been careful enough to avoid farmland where and when they can, that required their backtracking and changing direction somewhat frequently. After all, they'd rather not go tromping through fields and ending up attacked by an enraged farmer, or injure or spook the horse by leaping over fences and crushing crops. Nevertheless, they all had the silent hopes that whatever army pursuing them, if there was one, had similar concerns.

Jonah was not amused. He despised anything that traveled too swiftly for his liking, and expressed it by swearing his little head off. As such, Eremia, who slumped on the horse's back, behind the two, had to reprimand him with her own shouts. Though it was hard for then to say as such, as they were unbelievably tired and felt weak, they persisted, and the ride soon boiled down into childish shouting while Yorew disregarded them both and focused on his own task, he having long ago figured out that their ranting was not something he wished to get caught him.

Eremia was drowsy, and fog covered her mind. In the back of her head, she couldn't help but feel that somewhat was desperately wrong. Everything was too quiet, or was being drowned out by their own noise. It was so hard to think or come to any kind of conclusion anymore, and yet she wondered how credible Jonathan – their savior - had been. Eremia could not question Yorew's judgment about the situation, and their choice did seem like the best one. However, was Jonathan right? Had everyone else had the same idea that the most sensible option would be to head for Exedor?

She shouted at Jonah once more, and started leaning on his back, eyes opening and closing slowly. All she wanted to do now was to sleep, suffocate that nervousness that was contained within her, and wake up in the morning in her own bed, in her own castle, surrounded by the people who love and care for her. The thought consumed her mindset and made her smile, betraying her warmth and contention to the world.

Her perspective whirled in a pirouette, throwing her about. The sky flew towards the ground and rose once again, and she realized that she was now falling towards the earth. Eyes shot open, and her mind pushed for answers. She must've slipped and fallen off of the horse, it concluded, as she was ungracefully thrown onto the ground and rolled against the earth. An horrendous pain echoed throughout her head as her outfit was coated in dirt and grass stains, and she could feel muscles creaking and bruises forming on her skin. Something snapped, although she knew not what it was.

When she finally stopped, she had a roaring headache, and her body was working overtime to identify all of its sources of pain and deal with them. That was problematic, since they were everywhere. So her body screamed with pain, and she groaned as she tried to raise herself up. One of her arms gave out on her and bent awkwardly, and Eremia stifled as scream as she fell back onto the earth. Question answered.

"Hello?" Eremia called out, hair falling over her eyes as she scanned the surrounding countryside desperately. Everything seemed perfectly tranquil, and there was the crushed-grass pattern of hoofprints in front of her, extending a short ways in the area, which appeared to be in the middle of a series of hills. It was only when she saw her brother, on his knees and pushing the limp figure of Yorew, who had an arrow in his leg, beside the still horse in which a few arrows had been embedded, did she hear the procession of cavalry thundering in the distance.

"Yorew! Jonah!" she shouted, propping herself up on her good arm as she crawled towards the others. Jonah heard her screaming first, and desisted from shaking Yorew’s arm and demanding that he respond, to face her with tears in his eyes. He had a bruise over his eye, and seemed desperately shaken up, but otherwise unharmed.

"I don't know what to do," he mouthed in horror as she struggled to approach. Eremia wasn't sure if he was referring to Yorew, her, or both of them. With regards to the former, the man looked alive. He was breathing, and his face was incredibly pale, head lolled back to face away from the arrow that was sticking out of his calf. It looked incredibly painful, and the wound was already bleeding. As Eremia looked him over, she was struck by the awareness that she hadn't a clue what to do either. If she made to remove the arrow, it was liable to release whatever kind of vein or artery or something of the like had been damaged in there, and the results would be horrific. On the other hand, he was likely already going through internal bleeding and bone/muscle damage. Without a healer, there was nothing she could do beyond hope that one could come soon enough or that he'd be able to walk. That seemed about as likely as her ability to use her damaged arm.

There was a whistling sound, and Yorew turned to see a few more arrows stick themselves into the ground in front of her. Realizing that whoever was firing had been accurate enough to dispatch their horse and its rider, and should thus be more than capable of picking off a few still targets, her glance fell upon the hill that the arrows appeared to have come from. And there, upon the proud hill, was an assortment of horses arranged neatly in a row, flying an orange and brown flag of a man waving a sword above his head while riding a deer.

She groaned. Jonathan had been correct. They'd been outpaced and picked off by an Eimhin cavalry squad. Yet, was this the one led by the King's own son?

"You are henceforth cornered!" The somewhat light-in-pitch voice echoed off of the surroundings and waved its way to Eremia's ear. The distance was far, and her own overwhelming anxiety and frustration only served to assure that her heartbeat did its best to drown out as much of the sound as possible. That, and the pain of her arm made her vision wavy and unfocused, and muddled with her other senses. "We have no reason to bring harm upon you, and you should not invite one. Know that you are facing the 3rd Armed Battalion of the Eimhin Cavarly and its leader, Ailean, son of the King of Eimhin, Catharnach. Come with us peacefully, and I assure you that as little harm as we can muster will come to you. Else, we may blind you, as our name and reputation have force behind them."

Jonah shouted in return, as loud as his voice could muster, "Speak up!" Eremia glared at Jonah, who smiled sheepishly and returned to focus on Yorew. Yorew looked at him and smiled, but glanced at the arrow and fixed his gaze away from it as quickly as he could muster. It was then that he stared up at the sky, trying to distract himself from the sight or thought of his injury, and saw something above. A hand pointed at it, and Eremia and Jonah looked up in response, eyes narrowing as they tried to find what he had seen.

The horsemen must have had the same idea, as the whole army moved in unison a short distance down the hill, making a thunderous racket. The archers raised their bows to the object above, and fired. Eremia watched as the silhouette of a large bird waved artfully around them, trying to speed its way down towards the trio. A second gathering of arrows made it think otherwise. Her eyes widened as she recognized the figure as what she perceived to be one of the Exedor soldiers. There was only a single individual, but she needed all the help she was going to get, and this opportunity was perfect. Besides, where there was one, there could be many.

She looked down at her usable hand. Eremia was still immensely tired, but could likely fire a few more blasts of her own. She didn't need them to be that strong, anyway. Eremia stared at Jonah, who placed a hand to shadow his eyes while he watched the spectacle taking place. "Do you have anything of use?" she whispered at him. While the cavalry remained perched on the hill and making its own racket, she didn't want to find out that they had some kind of exceptional hearing or something of the sort.

Jonah pulled out his dagger. Yorew groaned. "I have Braemer," he said proudly, as though he had been waiting for the perfect moment to say it.

Eremia glared at him. "You named your dagger?" Nevertheless, she sighed, realizing that they were facing an impenetrable brick wall of an armed force, and even a puny knife could serve some use. At least, it would be about as effective as most anything else she had in mind. "Fine, hold my hand. It's going to take a ride."

Jonah looked distressed by this choice of words, but muttered an incantation and clasped her hand. As arrows fell behind them, growing gradually closer with the repeated efforts of the eagle, Eremia called upon the energy pouring through her to momentarily dispel her headache and summon a small column of swift air aimed towards the cavalrymen. As a breeze whisked the grass around them and their hair, Jonah sighed and placed the dagger in the column, whereupon it was fired rapidly into the sky, quickly shrinking in size as it sped away from them.

After a few seconds of silence, during which a panicked Eremia worried that her efforts had failed, there came a sound that was a mix of a groan and a scream. Whatever that dagger had done, it had enough of an effect to halt the archers as they prepared another set of arrows, and allowed the eagle to swoop down towards them. Shouting rose from the distance as the force seemed confused, and then another volley of arrows whistled through the air when they spotted the eagle’s descent. Eremia closed her eyes in concentration and summoned a blast of wind that spiraled into the air, interfering with the arrows' path. The eagle had to dodge out of the way, but the arrows were thrust off balance, and changed their trajectory in a multitude of angles while traveling forward.

Now all the soldier had to do was duck under this procession by swooping towards the archers and over Eremia, and then swiftly fell downwards towards her and her associates. He landed gracefully on the grass beside Jonah, and quickly shifted into a boy with dark brown, ruffled hair. Pale golden irises looked the trio over and nodded in satisfaction, and the eagle sat by Eremia and Jonah, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the archers with a mix of contempt and fury.

The voice of Ailean, or who Eremia surmised was him, echoed from the hill. "Dare you have the gall to threaten the lives of my soldiers, and make to profane this ground with their blood? Surrender now, or pay the consequences."