“Let’s go. Be swift and silent.” Anthanasius looked at one of the men in the circle, Siadhal, and said, “Lead east and turn toward Echo Slope in four miles. I’ll bring up the rear.”
The party started off into the forest in as great a hurry as possible with three among them wounded from sword cuts a few days prior. They thought they had successfully evaded their Shalmen stalkers, but tonight proved differently. They all wanted a position far from the back but did not want to show it. Luke made to follow the man in front of him and almost disappeared into the forest when Anthanaisus called his name and held him aside. The others passed by with a glance but Anthanasius kept his hand on Luke’s shoulder. Once the others walked past he let his hand off of Luke’s shoulder and said to him, “Try to keep an eye on Aelred; he doesn’t seem himself. And I’ll need you to guard the rear sometimes.” Luke nodded his head once in understanding, then turned and rushed into the forest with Anthanasius close behind him. He held his drawn sword and Anthanasius carried a longbow with an arrow notched.
Once Luke caught up to the back of the group the person previously guarding the rear breathed in relief as he knew that another took the dangerous position. Luke looked back at Anthanasius. He held his bow in his left hand and touched the string with three fingers on his right hand. He rhythmically looked off to the sides; first to the left, then to the right, then stopped suddenly and watched behind him.
Anthanasius stopped once again and watched behind the group. Looking back where they came from, he thought he could see the clearing from their camp but could not know for certain. He wanted to see it. If nothing else, it was familiar, even though they had only been there for a few hours and left in so much haste. The familiarity called to him to return, back into the clearing, back towards what they fled, and to find Agar. But he could not go back alone and knew they dared not go back there at all. Not knowing what befell Agar made him grow sad and realize his wariness.
The retreating soldiers moved as swiftly as they could while keeping silent in the dark forest and didn’t notice Anthanasius’ disappearance. He fell behind by his own will and doing. He bore greater risk of harm while waiting at the back but did so in an attempt to prevent an unexpected assault from behind.
Anthanasius fell far behind the retreating group as he waited, yet he stood silent and unaware, as if fallen prey to the forest. A deep melancholy filled his mind and radiated to every portion of his body. Standing alone in the forest, he felt all the anguish of the past weeks saturate his soul and urge him toward despair. “Could this be what happened to Agar?” He wondered to himself before he shook off the feeling with an effort, became aware of his surroundings once again, and drew his bow string, bringing the point to face a distant oncoming sound.
*****
The group still moved as a single body when Anthanasius took up position beside Luke again with one arrow less than he previously held. He said nothing, and Luke asked, “We’re followed, aren’t we?”
For answer, he received only a look with a slight nod before Anthanasius turned again and stopped to look and listen.
*****
The group kept moving east for another mile. Luke’s nerves from occupying the back of the hunted group kept him on edge. Several times he thought for certain he saw someone keeping pace with them through the trees. His weariness increased despite the adrenaline and he fell back a few yards. Not looking around for danger he now focused on the feet of the man in front of him. The muffled sound on the moist yellow leaves on the forest floor seemed deafening when he concentrated on it.
He stepped over a log, ducked under a branch, and moved around a stone, all while following the man before him doing the same. He fell into the rhythm and let his thoughts wander for a few moments. Oh, if only rain would come and cover the sound of their footsteps. The misery would be intense, and they could be tracked, but they drew closer to safety with every second.
A dispute between Aelred and another in the group wrenched Luke’s attention away from the ground in front of him. Luke listened as the group stopped and talked in hissed whispers. Following last in line caused Luke enough anxiety while the group moved quietly to safety, but his blood now ran cold with the noise of the disagreement. Aelred, it seemed, wanted to lead everyone off to the left. The discussion grew louder as everyone gave their reasons for not following Aelred’s advice.
The man at the front of the line, Siadhal, commanded whenever Anthanasius was away. As soon as he realized Anthanasius’ absence, he made his way back to consult the rearguard. He asked Luke, “Where is Anthanasius?”
Luke answered him as best and as quietly as he could, “Guarding behind us. The Shalmen are still following us, but I don’t know if there are any more.”
“He said nothing to you?” Siadhal inquired to make sure.
“Nothing.” Luke replied.
“Then we must continue.” Luke gave as much approval as he could without looking relieved. With that, Siadhal marched past the waiting others and told them the decision, “The path is the quickest way to travel as long as we can. We must continue.”
As the first few began to run again, Aelred did not move. Luke looked behind expecting something horrible to jump out from the dense trees and rip through the company. After all, they already stayed long enough in one place. No sound or movement came from behind, but it certainly did from in front. Aelred shoved the man next to him over with a shout and ran into the trees to the left. The noise of the shout caused more alarm than the desertion, but several near him charged into the trees, tackled Aelred to the ground and disarmed him.
Everyone filed off the makeshift path they traversed and huddled around Aelred several yards away. In the distance, several hundred yards off, the sound of a horn reached their ears. It began in a rising timbre that broke off just as fast. They knew that horn. Those wounded among their company shivered more violently than the rest.
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Luke’s heart felt like it jumped into his throat and plugged it. He could hardly breathe for the few seconds while the horn resounded. The cry had given away their hitherto unknown position and would surely draw their enemies in their direction.
Anthanasius slowly crouched low on the damp mass of twigs and tree bark on the forest floor. His muffled movements still made some noise and he wanted silence. He heard a sudden shout far ahead in the direction of his men followed by a blood chilling blast on a horn.
He remained a few paces off the path while he waited alone.
“Follow me, and hurry.” Siadhal whispered. They moved single-file through the densest trees, and two abreast where they could. Siadhal kept them moving in the general direction they desired, moving from one hill to the next and pausing often enough to keep the exhausted men in fighting condition, should that be necessary.
Coming to rest in a slight clearing, several flung themselves gratefully on the ground gasping for breath. Everyone else rested against a bough of some large tree or another. Luke stopped by Siadhal for the break and said to him, “Anthanasius doesn’t know we left the path; I need to go look for him. I’ll manage to slip through their lines.”
He started to go but Siadhal grabbed his arm. Luke held the same rank but Anthanasius left Siadhal in command. “You’re worried about him being out alone so you think the answer is having someone else venture off alone? And don’t insult Anathanasius’ intelligence thinking that he wouldn’t realize we left.” He pointed at a large oak tree some of the men leaned against and continued speaking,” If you want to be a hero then follow orders and climb that tree to look for torches.”
Luke fumed at Siadhal’s public rebuttal and made eye contact with no one when he walked to the oak. He jumped and grabbed hold of a low branch and swung his legs up onto the same. His pride kept him blind to reason until he neared the top, then his sense of duty returned by degrees and cooled his head.
Siadhal turned next to two soldiers bickering over the trivial fact of who cut who off during the previous flight and set them each to keep keen ears on opposite sides of their resting place. Siadhal had served enough to know that during a time of panic and fatigue, the invisible forces within could weaken a company more rapidly than a camped army.
*****
Anthanasius stopped short of bringing a bite of barley bread to his mouth at a slight sound from his side. Moving from a seated position to crouched, he slowly reached for his bow and knocked an arrow. He scanned the horizon slowly, watching for any sign of movement between the trees and strained his ears to pick up any noise outside his imagination. Seeing nothing for a space filled his heart with more misgivings than a press of enemies. He wet his lips by passing his tongue through them and fingered his bow string with one finger above the arrow and two below.
Standing erect and peering around the stout tree that afforded him so much concealment, he made out some movement following the path he tracked. These Shalmen scouts continued a forced march forward without a break while their company rested.
If Anthanasius didn’t know better, he may have mistaken this large party of scouts for the whole company chasing them. If he could draw the scouts off his friends’ path and disappear into the forest, he could possibly reunite with them later.
He loosed additional arrows in his quiver and quietly took one step forward from behind his tree. He raised his forward arm to shoulder height and slowly drew the hempen cord to his right ear. Anthanasius drew a deep breath and held it as he looked straight down the smooth shaft he intended to send through the leader’s heart. Moving the tip smoothly to the side to keep pace with their walk, he breathed a prayer and calmly released his grip as the arrow sped forth.
There was no turning back now; they would discover him and hunt him down to kill him mercilessly unless he kept the element of surprise long enough. Each shot revealed his location, but before their leader hit the ground, he, quick as thinking, reached for another arrow and drew it to his ear. He aimed steadily and let it fly at another bewildered foe. It took the second one in the neck. As it passed clean through, the thread holding the feathers broke, and the bare shaft stuck with a rattle in a distant tree.
A terrible tumult arose now as each tried to shelter himself from the assailant and find from which direction he delivered death. Anthanasius fired four more arrows into the confused bunch and felled at least two more with true marks, if not others from fear they were next. His lethal messengers made their point clear, but also made known his location. The Shalmen, with a great shout, charged with minimal order onto their prey. Anthanasius loosed one final arrow then took to his heels with dizzying speed, calling aloud to ‘follow me’ to pretend he wasn’t alone.
*****
Siadhal, after settling disputes, ate a small piece of bread while walking among the rest of the soldiers. Each ate small foodstuffs from their own packs, drank from shared flasks, and inspected their arms. All in the close-knit group quickly examined the yew bows for cracks and divided the remaining arrows.
Luke descended the tree, and they prepared to push on again. As they formed up behind Siadhal, someone said earnestly, “Quiet, I heard something. Quiet!” Siadhal nodded to Luke who walked to the back of the company in preparation for a rear defense.
Luke lowered his ear to the ground to listen for approaching footsteps but heard nothing. As he returned to his feet, he stopped short at the sound of a distant twang followed by a thud. His heart skipped a beat from fear, but he heard the bow again, and, this time, angry, hoarse cries rose up.
“They haven’t got him yet!” Luke whispered before leading everyone leaping down the winding trail they blazed just minutes earlier.
*****
After perhaps a half-mile sprint over rocks, around trees, and under branches, Anthanasius clapped his back up against an oak, breathless and alive with adrenaline. He stuck a few arrows point-first in the soft ground for quick access where he would make his next stand and waited with eager eyes and ears. A few dozen Shalmen could not move perfectly silently, try as they might, and Anthanasius received warning before he next drew his bow while calling for his invisible comrades to “stand ready”. The Shalmen charged recklessly into his fire as their quickest option. After all, his devastating bow could only kill one of them at a time.
Many of his shots flew true, and picking his last out of the ground, he spun around quickly and sent it from only a few yards away through one of the two Shalmen sneaking up behind him.
The other charged at him with a steel blade that caught the moonlight and Anthanasius dove to the other side to miss the blow and then drew his own sword. He spun around off his stomach and made a quick cut at the back of his opponent’s leg before parrying a cut aimed for his chest. He kicked at his opponent’s bleeding legs and sent him toppling to the ground and jumped up, shaken but unhurt.
He left his wounded foe where he lay, grabbed his bow from off the soggy moss and charged again into the forest. He moved swiftly at the intense alarm of feeling hunted and possibly surrounded. He ran on with sword in hand and bow across his back through the semi-dark forest that hid him, his enemies, and even his friends from each other.