Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (19 page)

The nearest hare suddenly jumped, thumping its back legs twice on the ground, instinctively giving its mate a warning, just as Rema loosed his arrow from a full draw. It crossed the distance to its target in an almost invisible blur, although Rema’s trained eye followed it all the way. For the briefest moment, he thought he had aimed too low, but just as the hare crouched, preparing to bound away it was dead, pierced right through the chest, with the arrow continuing on some distance, and disappearing into the valley beyond. The other hare was gone in a flash, and Rema felt a twinge of remorse that it had lost its companion. Revel-Hares were gracious creatures, and they mated for life.

He picked up the still warm and twitching body of his kill, securing it quickly to his belt in the familiar manner he had repeated over and over so many times in the past.  He stood for a moment, and sighted to the far hillside locating a large tree with which he had marked his arrow’s flight, and set off towards it. Suddenly he dropped to the ground and gasped. There below him in the valley, hidden until that moment by the slope of the land, was a village; or what remained of it. The ruins were still smoking, but the fires were old. House after house of stone walls without roofs surrounded a central square in which stood a gallows. Hanging from that stark structure was a body. Rema was too far away to see much more as he fell instantly to the ground, except that he noticed a small troop of soldiers and their mounts leaving the wasted village, by a road which travelled roughly towards him.

Lying still in the damp grass he brought his rapid breathing under control and started to crawl backwards up the slope to a point where he felt he was hidden once more.

Did they see me? Who are they? What possible reason could they have to destroy a place like that?

 
A thousand frantic questions raced through his mind.

Judging the point at which he felt he was safe from sight, Rema crouched into a run, and disappeared back into the woods, moving carefully so as to leave the least trace of his passing. He worked his way back towards the river, stopping every now and then to listen for sounds of pursuit. He was unaware that the hare secured to his belt was dripping bright red spots of blood, laying behind him a trail, which spoke of death, and invited pursuit.

Despite the fear of what might be following, Rema forced himself to move even more cautiously as he came closer to where Gymble’s barge was tied up, and within moments was glad that he had, for suddenly he heard the sounds of someone running through the trees, and immediately he recognised them as the sounds of a desperate flight.  Then he heard the pursuer, clearly mounted, for the unmistakable thump of hooves traveled easily to him. He waited, frozen behind a giant oak until both pursued and pursuer were past, and then followed, for he realised with alarm, that by chance, they were both headed directly for the riverbank above the barge.

As it turned out Rema reached the river in time to see a young boy stumbling and falling down the bank toward the barge; watched by a rather bemused Gymble, who for the second time in days had been chanced upon by a fugitive from the forest. What Gymble did not immediately see was the soldier in pursuit bring his mount to a halt, and dismount in one easy action, before standing for a moment and watching the boy leap aboard the barge to join him.

Rema saw the boy speak frantically with Gymble, before pointing urgently up the bank to where they both could now see the soldier standing watching them.  The soldier, unconcerned, gave a smug smile of victory, unsheathed his sword, and started to descend towards the barge. Rema had no doubt that his intent was the capture or death of the boy, and desperately looked up and down the river to see if any others were following. Satisfying himself that the soldier was alone, Rema moved quietly into a position on the bank where he could see and hear all that was about to develop below him on Gymble’s barge. He found that his heart was calm, and his hand steady, and he knew that whatever the outcome, he would not allow his new friend Gymble Barger, or the young boy, to be harmed. And so he notched an arrow, and stood quietly, and unseen, waiting to see what might happen.

The soldier stood on the bank and called to the boy.

‘Give yourself up lad, I do not want to come aboard and get you. There is no escape.’

‘This barge is mine and you have no permission to come aboard.’ Gymble spoke in anger. ‘Whatever this lad has done, you will not harm him on this vessel.’

The soldier frowned.

‘Old man, you have by chance, become involved in something you have no need to suffer for. If however, I do come aboard, you will both suffer the same fate, for I am not particular.’ He motioned to the boy. ‘Come on lad, you don’t want the old man harmed. It is all over now.’

Gymble grabbed the boy and thrust him behind his back. ‘You will take this lad over my dead body!’ Rema was suddenly taken by the anger in the old barger’s voice, but remembering their sad conversation the previous day, realised that Gymble was not about to give up another child, even if he was no relation, and especially if the enemy was a soldier of the king.

Suddenly the soldier leapt up the gangplank and with his sword drawn, had it at Gymble’s throat before anyone, even Rema realised.

‘That, old man can be arranged with little trouble.’ The soldier spoke with a deadly urgency.

Rema could no longer see the soldier’s face, but in one easy action drew his bow, and waited. He did not want to shoot the man in the back despite the threat he posed to Gymble and the boy, and so he waited for a moment, knowing that the effort to hold his bow fully drawn would exhaust him within a very short time. He weighed his options, and then, just as the soldier raised his sword to strike the defenseless man and boy, Rema instantly changed his angle and released.

The arrow at such close quarters carried an energy which would cut through steel, and so it did.

With a cry of pain the soldier’s right thumb on the hilt of his raised weapon was severed and the sword beneath his grip shattered. The remains of sword, flesh and arrow disappeared over the side in an instant, an instant in which the large and powerful fist of a very angry Gymble Barger, struck the wounded soldier once in the middle of his face. He fell unconscious and bleeding to the deck.

Rema cursed quietly, ‘A second arrow lost.’

Nevertheless, he regretted nothing, for Gymble and the boy were safe. He jumped nimbly down the bank, leapt aboard, and was bending over the prone soldier before either of the others had moved further. He took charge, for he knew that time was short and they needed to be away before other soldiers chanced upon them, or the unconscious man came round.

‘Quick Gymble get me that leather bag you have hanging in your kitchen, the one which holds your pipes and tobacco.’ Gymble looked puzzled.

‘Just do it now, I will explain, we have little time, hurry man!’

Gymble disappeared below leaving the young boy standing transfixed, as though trying to work out what had just happened.

‘You’re safe lad,’ Rema spoke without looking up, ‘quick now, get me a strip of cloth, or hemp, tear up something if you have to.’ The boy looked around wildly, and then spied the very thing holding up one of Gymble’s bean spouts against a simple frame. With nimble fingers, he untied the hemp and gave it to Rema without a word. Rema meanwhile, had compressed the bleeding stump of the soldier’s thumb to stem the flow of blood. With the hemp, he bound the stump and cut off the flow. The soldier stirred and without a thought, Rema reached out, grabbed a garden stake from its pot and hit him hard once more. The soldier fell still, but breathing healthily enough.

Gymble returned at that moment with the large leather bag, empty now of its contents. Rema took the bag and placed it over the soldier’s head. It fitted snuggly and Rema used its drawstring to bring the open end tight shut around the unconscious man’s throat. He tied it securely, and being leather, he knew it would require a knife to set the man free. He felt carefully to confirm that there was enough room for the man to breath, and satisfied that he would not suffocate, he ordered Gymble to assist him in carrying the man ashore. In a trice, he was unceremoniously dumped on the river bank, well above the water. Gymble could not help himself and gave the unconscious figure another quick tap on the back of his head with a club of a fist, and then they untied the barge and pushed it out into the current.

Within moments, they were away and moving out into the river, away from the bank and any other dangers which might lie in wait.

Only then, did Rema pause and turn his attention to Gymble and the boy.

*

Captain Sadis had eyes like a hawk. It was what made him such a good soldier in the field. He saw things which other men thought inconsequential; and he was never too lazy to ask the question,
why?
And then he would spend considerable energy in finding an answer. Not like some of the men in his small troupe. Trakker was good, but preferred life in camp. Nimrev was not only unpopular with everyone, he was always had an excuse for shirking his duty. Sadis was convinced he was the worst soldier in the long history of the unit; and punishment made no difference. Bone lazy was just that.  Bolt was solid, a fighter, not afraid of battle, but he lacked initiative, and besides, he smelt bad. Sadis hated body odour. Vemin was the best, a silent dark man with unequalled ability in the saddle or with the blade. He even made Sadis nervous; but Vemin was not with them now, he’d left in pursuit of the boy at first light so Sadis was stuck with the other four.

He’d seen the man briefly, high on the hill as they left the burnt out village. A lone man on a hill was not suspicious, but he’d fallen to the ground so quickly to avoid being seen that Sadis felt compelled to find out why.

With a cry to his men to follow, Sadis spurred his mount along the rutted road and then off into the fields, climbing the steep hill at a full gallop, knowing that his troupe would struggle to keep up. He did not suspect a ambush so he continued on till he reached the spot where he’d last seen his quarry. His horse stood snorting, tossing its head and gasping for air from the effort of an uphill charge. Sadis sat immobile, eyes narrowed and surveyed the ground. The damp grass told its story. One man lying prone, crawling backwards, blood on the ground,
was he injured?
Further on, footsteps clearly leading back towards the forest.

Sadis swung around as the other men arrived. Nimrev was half out of his saddle.
Couldn’t ride to save himself
thought Sadis. Trakker had stopped further down the hill, and had dismounted. Sadis felt immediate annoyance.

‘Get yerself up here soldier,’ he yelled angrily. Trakker looked up at him briefly, but his only motion was to bend down and pick up something from the grass. Even at that distance Sadis’ keen eyes could see it was an arrow, glinting in the early morning sunlight. Trakker had done well, and he knew it. He rode up with a little too much arrogance, which tested Sadis’ patience. With a supreme effort he let it pass and instead focused on the arrow. It was of normal length but unusual in that it has no feathers. Sadis at first thought they had fallen off, a common enough problem with all arrows. But a closer examination revealed that it had never held any feathers, and fresh blood indicated a recent kill. There were also three unusual grooves entwining the full length of the shaft. Sadis thought them to be decoration.

‘That’s not an arrow. It’s a toy!’ Nimrev leaned over and contributed little. ‘Couldn’t do any damage with that! Are we chasing a boy who’s playing soldiers, Captain?’ He smirked at the other men.

Sadis rounded on him.

‘There’s fresh blood on the shaft soldier. Something’s dead. Unfortunately it’s not you. Fool!’

He was interrupted by Trakker, who, with surprising initiative had located a pool of blood in the grass several paces on towards the forest.

‘Over here captain. Looks like our man is hunting. Killed a rabbit or a hare.’ He was sniffing the ground with his large nose. Animal blood Captain. Whoever stood here was not injured, not least that I can tell.

‘Well done Trakker.’ Sadis replied civilly, ‘I’m glad someone is taking this seriously.’

The captain walked his horse in a circle, searching the grass for any further clues. He saw none.

‘Alright men, we are after one man, a hunter, uninjured and wanting to keep out of sight. After last night’s events in the village I want no one out there I don’t know about.’ Sadis had taken on the familiar air of commander.

The men knew then that they were in for a chase. All of them, even Trakker, who had so far impressed his captain, felt it was not worth the energy. The devil’s work had been done. People would talk. Who knew what this lone man had or had not seen. Did it really matter anyway?

‘Lead the way Trakker.’ Sadis would not be swayed, and no one dared to try.

Trakker led his horse, and bent to the ground, although it was easy to follow the footprints of the man in the wet grass.

 ‘Dropping blood captain,’ Trakker spoke disinterestedly,’ Probably his kill.’

‘Good,’ said Sadis, ‘that will make it easier to follow in the forest.’ He waited for a moment before adding, ‘No guard duty tonight, for the man who brings him down.’ After that, the pace picked up noticeably.

In the forest under the trees, it was harder to follow the blood trail, but with the determined Captain Sadis driving them on, they moved ever closer to the river.

‘I hear a horse.’ Soldier Bolt spoke for the first time since leaving the destroyed village.

A moment later, they came upon it.

‘That’s Venim’s horse,’said Trakker, who had walked all the way following the faint signs of blood, a trail which lessened the further it went as the blood had congealed.

‘Dismount men, spread out. He could be wounded anywhere close by.’ Sadis spoke clearly, ‘and shut your mouth Nimrev, we need to hear in case he’s calling us.

The silence wasn’t required, for Venim had come around and was angrily trying to rid himself of the leather bag which covered his head. His efforts and cursing made a comical sight which made even Sadis grin, and watch bemused, as his best man, soldier Venim stumbled about bumping into trees and falling down.