Sat Feb 24 (Mordyth) :: Ambush!
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and go, leaving memories that
become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten
when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, an Age long
past, an Age yet to come, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The
wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings
to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was A beginning.
Born below the cloud-capped peaks that gave the mountains their name
the wind blew east with the coming of dawn. Howling down the slopes,
blasting out across the Sand Hills, gusting into the Two Rivers, the
tempest whipped a frenzy through the tangled forest of the Westwood,
beating at the two men riding their mounts down the rock-strewn path
called Quarry Road.
With the wind came the rain. A steady drizzle that was not enough to
hamper travel but still enough to carry an icy chill causing the two
men to tighten their dark, hooded cloaks about them. Gusts plastered
dirt-colored hides to their legs and whistled through the leaves and
branches of the trees bordoring the road.
For the hundredth time that morning, the silent one gazed at the sky
hoping for some sign the squall would soon pass, but each time there
was to be disappointment. Tugging the cloak even tighter, he thought
again how much he wished his thin mail shirt was designed for warmth
instead of defense in battle. What could possibly be out here in the
rain on a day like this? Surely only a fool like himself too dumb to
come in out of the rain.
Dropping his eyes from the sky, he swung about in his saddle to pose
a silent question to his partner when he caught a glimpse of a shape
just beyond the scope of his vision. He froze, the adrenalin pumping
within his veins. Kneeing his warhorse to a stop, he sat like a rock
scanning the treeline. Nothing. There had been something. He knew it
had been something, but whatever it was, it was gone. Faded into the
shadows of the Westwood. He shivered despite himself.
His partner arched a questioning eyebrow but spoke not a word of the
inquiry. The silent one caught the look out of the corner of his eye
and shook his head slightly to indicate a negative response, but his
eyes never veered from where he thought the shape had been. Finally,
he sighed heavily and turned away to face his partner.
An ominous silence descended upon the two men as their eyes met. His
partner opened his mouth to speak then shut it again without a sound
as the silent one shrugged his shoulders in response to the unspoken
question. It was probably just an animal or perhaps the wind playing
tricks upon the mind. Then it hit him. The silence.
The wind howled as it rose, but aside from that or the creak of damp
leather saddles, quiet lay upon the land. No birds sang in the trees
of the forest, no squirrels chittered from the branches, no critters
rummaged through the underbrush, even the prowling wolves were gone.
It was as if the dark hand of the shadow had vanquished all save for
them. The thought was enough to make one's hair stand on end.
Shivering for the second time in as many minutes, the silent one let
his gaze sweep over the shadowy treeline once more. Nothing changed.
Something was amiss but he couldn't put his finger on it. Gesturing
to his partner, they set a slow watchful pace along the Quarry road,
turning north toward Baerlon at the intersection which separated the
Old road from the North road. All was as quiet as before. Neither of
the men noticed the crow circling high overhead on silent wings.
A short time later, the silent one reigned his mount to a stop, then
pointed toward a wooded area off the beaten path. His partner nodded
in agreement taking the lead. Many times either bandits, trollocs or
fades used this place to set up ambushes on the unwary travellers of
the North road. It was worth checking out as the day was perfect for
such an ambush. The servants of the Dark One used all sorts of dirty
underhanded tricks to gain the upper hand.
Just as the two men were about to enter the glade, the crow that had
been tracking them swooped low in the sky to let out a raucous sound
for the assassin lying in wait. Quick as lightning, the bandit leapt
out at the younger of the two men with a backstab that pierced deep.
In horror, the silent one watched his partner cry out when the blade
sliced through the thick leather vest like butter leaving a gruesome
bloody trail. Time seemed to slow as he drew his long-handled waraxe
from its harness across his back and sent it cleaving into the right
arm of the bandit causing bloody fragments. Unfortunately the strike
came a moment too late to save his friend.
Rage stormed through the eyes of the silent one as he raised his axe
once more to cleave into the bandit in a tempest fury no storm could
match. Laying any thought to his own safety aside, he swumg that axe
again and again seeing only red, the color of blood. Death lingered
on the horizon but just before the final blow came the thief managed
to gain the advantage to send the silent one fleeing.
Resting a moment to catch his breath, he took stock of his bearings.
The still form of his friend lay just out of reach. Crawling over to
the blood-soaked body, he dreaded the worst. Placing his ear against
the chest of his friend, the silent one gave a sudden start. A faint
heartbeat. Praised be the Light. His partner was alive!
Hearing a faint rustle, the silent one turned in the nick of time to
deflect a well placed backstab from the wounded bandit. Shadowspawn!
They did not give up easily. Deftly, he twisted sharply throwing his
full weight against the bandit knocking the thief off balance. Light
favor the Dark One's luck as the thief was thrown against a boulder,
the crack of his skull loud in the silence. The thief slumped to the
ground unconscious. The crow flew off with a warning caw.
Taking the opportunity afforded him, the silent one's thought was to
get himself and his partner out of danger. The shadoweyes would tell
of the battle and pinpoint the location. It was time to move...fast!
Hoisting the limp body of his friend into the saddle of the warhorse
the man secured it as best he could. Taking a moment, the silent one
edged his way to the road making sure the coast was clear. Out of no
where came a howl of triumph as a mighty club descended upon him. It
came from a trolloc who called himself Styg if memory served. Bloody
ashes! They were too damn fast!
Dodging the blow, the silent one fled in the opposite direction. Try
to lead him away from the thicket and then double-back. Trollocs are
rather easy to side-track on occassion. They have only one objective
on their minds. Food! He would chase as long as he had a sighting of
a human. For now, that would have to be good enough to ensure safety
of his partner.
The silent one led the trolloc toward Baerlon before finally turning
back to rescue his partner. Coming abreast of the ambush point again
he took stock of the area but the thief was still out cold. Charging
through the thicket with his partner in tow, he raced towards safety
in the Mountains of Mist.
It wasnt until Amador that he caught sight of the blasted crow again
flying high above the forest. Cursing his luck, he managed to evade
the shadoweyes but it was to no avail. It had already sent its death
message to one of the chosen Myrddraal who lay in wait near the base
of the Old Outpost.
From out of the shadows the fade emerged. A bellow from Cyllt warned
of the danger but by that time Chaos reigned. Three fell to the dark
shadow that day. Chaos may have won this battle for the Dark One but
the war was far from over.
Until next,
Mordyth
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