Deadly Pursuit

Chapter 13

Across the plains beyond the Malthus desert, two groups were locked in a race. Chased to the point of desperation, the bandits headed straight for the coral pink sands. It was a gamble to cross unfamiliar land, but they'd been trying and failing to shake their pursuers.

Behind them, the ten soldiers of Earl Savex were doggedly set on their trail. Morale was low, but no longer because they wished to be done with their work. Instead, it was because they couldn't understand how they'd kept the trail.

The bandits had used every trick to try and shake them. On any other day, they would have shaken off their pursuers, or at least increased their lead. Instead, every trick cost them time and exhausted their mounts.

Even when all signs of them vanished, it was never more than an hour before Tiller found the trail again. It was an eerie thing, even to the soldiers, but they kept it to themselves.

The soldiers only paused once in their pursuit, at the edge of a sea of pink coral sand of Malthus. All but one were Midlanders or coastal folk. Some hadn't even known the word desert, let alone seen one. To pass beyond the boundary of the Savex Earldom was momentous. Now they had left any semblance of Dreadmar, the kingdom in which they'd been born.

Across the coral sands and through the howling winds of a sandstorm, they kept on. In the end, they navigated a great stone labyrinth to the valley beyond.

In that unexpected spot of green nestled in the Lorel Mountains, the bandits could finally run no further. Near to their goal, the soldiers made camp in the maze near the valley exit awaiting nightfall. The mood of the soldiers was tired, but pleased to be nearly done, though danger still lay ahead.

Tiller was pacing around his campfire, only to occasionally stop and stare vacantly. Having camped with him for a few days, Elim paid it no mind as he fixed their dinner. Tiller had already given an absurdly detailed recon report of the valley, but continued until the very moment the sun set.

Despite Tiller's apprehension, a plan of attack was made. They all rode together across two-thirds of the valley. It was a cloudy night, so there was little chance of being seen, despite a lack of cover. Dismounting, they did a final gear check and prepared to go.

As a scout, Tiller was to be left with the horses and excess gear. No one suggested he come along, but more than a few looks of contempt found him in the dark.

"Bit of a coward, even for a scout," Someone grumbled before they were out of earshot.

"Better than being too dumb to realize what your job is," Elim shot back with a smile. That earned a few harumphs and displeased snorts, but the group quieted down.

They had a long walk ahead of them, but no guarantee there weren't any sentries. Setting a fast pace, they reached their target at the back of the valley. Right where Tiller had said it would be, was an odd shed.

From the description alone, they hadn't been able to guess its use. Seeing it up close, they were still stumped. They didn't spend much time mulling over the issue either.

True to the report, it didn't have any windows or side openings to exploit and was unfortunately long. That was what they needed to focus on. After some discussion, they decided to smoke the bandits out.

It was a simple tactic. Killing bandits as they fled coughing into the night wasn't heroic. That wasn't the point, though. It would get the job done safely, and that was enough for them.

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Half the unit went to gather materials. The rest began inspecting the building, looking for convenient gaps. They wanted to avoid setting the building itself on fire. That would weaken the structure and make the blaze unpredictable.

While inspecting the building, Elim noticed a strange sound and followed it. It led him around to the back of the shed, where it butted up to the stone cliff forming the valley's walls. It turned out to be the wind whistling through a small opening.

Carefully he peered inside at the dim interior. The bandit's hooded lantern spilled just enough light to illuminate a problem.

"It backs up to a cave or something," Elim explained in a whisper once he was a safe distance away. The plan to smoke the bandits out was discarded after Kells suggested it might be a mine. If the bandits ran in, that would be a disaster.

There was no telling how deep it went or how twisting the path. No one wanted to go in, but they couldn't risk losing the bandits either.

They needed some kind of proof, preferably the longbow and some heads, to return in triumph.

Changing their plans, they paused to get ready for a frontal assault. It wasn't ideal, but they didn't want to end up riding back empty-handed after so much work.

Unfortunately, none of them had more than a buckler for a shield. A less than ideal situation, but larger shields were costly and heavy to carry. None of them had thought to buy one in addition to the issued buckler.

"After we breech, Bell and Cori stay behind to tear the door off and then rush the archer," Griffin offered. His plan earned nods. It wasn't much of one, but it was what they could manage, and no one had a better alternative.

With that decided, Anders stepped up to try and unlock the door. They'd knock it down if they had to. Despite that, it would be better to get an advantage through stealth if they could.

Using a knife between the narrow gap between the doors he tried to find a latch or bar. He found one, but the moment it unlocked, a faint tinkle of bells was heard. The latch had been trapped, and he moved out of the way.

The rest of the unit stormed the building immediately and were greeted with an arrow. No matter if the Bell had sounded or not, it seemed like at least the archer had been awake and ready for them.

One arrow struck home in the chest of Rastin during the rush. The unlucky man fell to the ground dead. The arrows that followed flew past harmlessly into the darkness. The archer retreated behind a partial barrier of crates made just inside the tunnel.

After the initial mad dash, the soldiers waited, standing on either side of the mines entrance. They needed the two still at the shed entrance to tear a door free.

Pressed against the stone wall, Elim gave a silent prayer to several gods. The rest of the soldiers who had the presence of mind left to do it were doing likewise. Bell and Cori, both built like bulls, had wrenched the door free across the shed. By all rights, Elim should have been focused on them or thinking about the fight ahead.

Instead, he was concentrating on the wall behind him. It wasn't much, but he would have sworn that he felt a strange vibration against this back. Looking down toward his hand, he was just in time to notice the stone glow faintly bluegreen for a moment. As the light disappeared, so did the vibration.

Alarmed, Elim stepped forward, wanting to warn Griffin that something wasn't right. Kell, who'd been standing with his eyes closed, trying to find his courage, sprang into action. He slammed into Elim as he rushed to begin the assault on the tunnel. Knocked off balance and into the path of the other men, Elim found himself pushed into the mouth of the tunnel.

It was not where he wanted to be, and he looked for cover as he tried to get his balance. The twang of a bowstring didn't reach his ears until he already felt a stinging pain in his chest. He blacked out, never seeing the pale white fletching sticking out below his shoulder.

Anders pulled Elim out of the way as Bell and Cori began their charge. A lucky shot caught Cori in the leg, and he faltered, but Bell continued with ease. Viciously the archer leveled another shot to kill Cori rather than bother with the better-covered Bell.

As Bell passed them, the other soldiers got up and used him as cover to advance. With the archer foiled, the other bandits prepared to defend their position. Their confidence in their skills turning to fear.

Instead of waiting for single combat, the soldiers brandished spears. The door looked like a thorn bush on either side. None of them were particularly well-educated men, but they were Savex soldiers. Unlike other military forces made up of conscripts, they were trained volunteers.

They didn't know much in the way of tactics. The Earl had focused on beating one fundamental concept into them. So much so, it was imprinted on their bones. Never fight fair.

They weren't knights, and it wasn't a tournament. All that mattered was doing what they were told and coming back alive. In that order.