XVIII

The spirits of the soldiers were muted as they rode past the first couple of trees that guarded the entrance to the woods. The voices of the men were quickly replaced by the wind rustling in the trees and the singing of solitary birds. The trail was untouched apart from signs of wild animals who had left their tracks while crossing it. It seemed as if not a single horse or human had trodden upon the path since the rainy season had begun, for although it was muddy, it was intact. It almost seemed a waste to destroy it by letting soldiers ride and drive wagons over it. The path was indeed very narrow, barely enough for two horses to walk side by side, and the wagons kept slipping off the sides, constantly being caught by branches from trees and bushes as if they wanted to halt them. Along the path, the bushes and trees rose towards the sky so densely that they formed an impenetrable wall. The trunks of the trees were interlaced with the leaves of younger trees and bushes that let them entwine all other plants. The wall of green was so dense that it was impossible to see what lay beyond. Whenever an opening did present itself among the trees, the only thing that was visible was more of the same. The farther in they rode, the drier the surroundings became. It was as if the rain of the past months had never touched the vegetation below the great crowns of the trees.

Captain Roe kept riding back and forth between the head and back of the procession making sure everything was in order. Time and again he would ride up next to Prolur and give him a smile and wink or a friendly word saying things like: “When we get out of these woods,” or, “this is not so bad.” After some time, Prolur noticed that the young officer was becoming edgy. He kept staring at the path ahead, waiting for someone, and Prolur realized that scouts Roe had sent on ahead had not returned. Roe was desperately trying to hide his nervousness, but to Prolur’s trained eye, it was very evident.

Then one of the soldiers in the first row shouted for the captain. Roe raised his hand and the procession halted, and he rode to the front to investigate the commotion. Prolur could see him discuss something quite lively with the soldiers who were pointing down the road. Roe spurred his steed down towards the direction, flanked by the two soldiers. Prolur let his horse stray to the left so that he could see better what was going on. Roe and the soldiers had stopped in front of two heaps of something lying in the middle of the path. It seemed as if they no more than glanced at the objects as they turned their animals and galloped back to the rest of them. Roe held his horse in front of Prolur and was visibly agitated.

“What is the problem, Captain?” he asked.

Roe leaned towards Prolur and whispered to him: “There are the bodies of two horses lying on the path,” he said with a tremble in his voice. “They are Haugarian steeds. They belong to our scouts.”

He then quickly swung around in his saddle and shouted to the rest of the men. “Draw your weapons and be alert! There is something amiss.”

There was rustling as the soldiers began lifting their spears and swords, and Prolur grabbed the hilt of his own sword as his eyes shifted from the left to the right. As Roe turned back towards Prolur, something came flying from the bush behind him. It came so fast that it looked like nothing more than a dark shape to Prolur. The shape landed on the soldier behind Roe and pulled him to the ground. At the sound of the two bodies crashing behind him, Roe turned round as did the rest of the soldiers. Standing over the fallen soldier, who was bleeding from a wound in the head, was a tall, slender man with long black hair hiding most of his face. Though the figure was thin, he was very muscular. He wore nothing but a pair of brown leather pants, and across his chest was a strap attached to a quiver of arrows. In his hand, he held what looked like a hammer. His skin was brown, seemingly tanned by the sun, and snake-like tattoos covered his arms. He flung his head backward, causing his hair to cascade down over his back and away from his face. His features were smooth, his head thin, his chin ended in a point and his forehead was high, but most of all, Prolur noticed his eyes. They were yellow, apart from the almond-shaped pupil in the middle. The figure smiled, and before Prolur had time to react, Roe had grabbed a spear and rode towards it, aiming the point of the spear in between the figure’s shoulder blades. Without looking behind, the figure spun to the right and managed to dodge the weapon, and as Roe passed on his horse, it swung the hammer-like weapon and sent it crashing into the animal’s front leg. There was a nasty crack as the leg broke, and Roe’s horse whinnied in despair as it fell forward. Roe was flung over the animal’s head and rolled into the brush where he lay still. Before any of the soldiers had time to react, the woods came alive. Suddenly, the path was swarmed by figures like the one already among them. Many of them leapt from upon high, down on the horses, pulling troops down—and, in some instances, killing them before they could react. The path was too narrow for the men to maneuver their horses, and they desperately tried to scramble down from them. The figures were armed with curved blades that glistened eerily by themselves. They slit the throats of soldiers that had managed to escape the surprise assault and had moved towards each other with their backs towards one another. The attackers began surrounding them, swinging their swords at the young men. A figure appeared in front of Prolur’s horse and stared into his eyes. They were shaped like those of a cat, and for a moment, Prolur’s heart skipped a beat. The man grinned and produced a blade from behind his back. Prolur went for his sword, but his nervous hands gave him problems. The hilt of the sword got caught in his saddle, and he desperately tried to get it loose whilst keeping an eye on the man drawing closer. Prolur finally got it loose and began drawing it out of the scabbard when the figure threw itself towards the horse and swung the blade down and up slicing the front of the animal, which let out a cry as it reared up on its back legs. Prolur was thrown off and backflipped, landing on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He raised his head and looked around. His horse was down. It was not yet dead, but it was squirming and throwing its head back and forth in anguish. The man rounded the dying horse, stepping through its blood all it spilled across the ground, swinging his blade to and fro. Prolur’s sword lay too far from him to reach, and he could not yet get himself up because of the fall. The man sped up and raised his blade over his head, and with fire in the cat-like eyes, he was ready to end Prolur’s life. Just as Prolur was ready to die, he felt someone leap over him and land by his head. It was Roe, who had recovered from his fall and now saved his life. The weapons of the two men were locked, and they both pushed with all their might in order to gain control. Prolur rolled to the side to get out of the way as Roe was pushed backward by the aggressor. He kept his balance and parried several attacks. The man pressed the young captain back and assaulted him with a barrage of swings that Roe barely parried. The enemy’s blade seemed lighter and easier to handle than the standard Haugarian sword that Roe swung. Then the figure overstepped when swinging high and Roe, using both hands, swung his blade upwards, forcing the man back. The force with which Roe swung spun him around, and in one smooth move, he sunk his sword into the man’s thigh until bone halted it. He pulled it back as his enemy brought his blade around, aiming for Roe’s head. He was just in time, but the clash of steel upon steel was so forceful that Roe’s weapon broke at the hilt. The man smiled as Roe tossed what was left of his weapon to the side. The enemy swung at his head, and Roe ducked and then jumped back to avoid a waist-high swing. Off-balance, Roe tried to regain his footing, but it was too late, and the man swung at him and cut the captain from his left side across his torso to his neck. Prolur gasped in horror as Captain Roe Siller fell backward, dead before he hit the ground. Prolur became furious and leapt to his feet and ran to his sword, which still lay halfway out of the scabbard. The man paid no attention to the stumbling monk behind his back. He walked towards the still body of Roe to check on his handiwork. Prolur threw the scabbard to the side and grabbing the sword with both hands he swung at the man’s legs. His sword was not as sharp as it had been, for it cut through the man’s right leg at the knee, but then got caught in the other. The man tried to spin around as he gave out a heart-wrenching cry, but instead, he fell to the ground. Prolur tried to wrench his sword free from the now-lifeless body of his opponent. An awful battle cry caused him to raise his head in time to see another figure rush towards him with another curved blade over his head. The man brought the end of his weapon down toward Prolur’s forehead, but he fell back and let go of his sword. The man swung at him, but Prolur managed to roll away and get to his feet. His heart was pumping fiercely, and it gave him the quickness and agility he needed. He swiftly picked up the sword of his fallen assailant as the figure turned towards him and again began swinging his blade. Prolur parried a swing from the right. His enemy was very strong. The force from his attack pushed Prolur back and sent a numbing feeling through his arm. Prolur brought his sword around and swung at the man’s head, but he was quicker, and as he backed away, he thrust his weapon upward. As the two weapons crashed together at great speed, Prolur’s sword shattered. Before he had a chance to react, his enemy followed up with a thrust of his sword, burying the point in Prolur’s left shoulder. He cried out in pain as the man twisted around in the wound. A warm feeling spread over his shoulder, but inside the wound, a cold sensation instead spread itself like a chilled snake, down his arm and coiled into his chest. The man placed his left hand on Prolur’s chest and pulled out his blade. As he did so, Prolur saw his blood squirting from his shoulder. His opponent stared at him, and Prolur thought he could see those cat eyes glow at him. The pain from the strike subsided, and he tried to push the thought of the wound aside, but suddenly, the cold he felt snaked around his heart. He gasped for air as the chill seemingly squeezed the life from his heart, his knees weakened, and his vision blurred. He desperately fumbled for something to hold as he fell to the ground. He landed heavily, and for a moment, everything became clear again. As the right side of his face lay pressed against the ground, he saw what had become of his traveling companions. There was blood and bodies everywhere. Some of the young men had been mutilated, and some had been nailed to the trunks of trees with the help of arrows and blades. Slowly, the disgusting scene faded before him. He tried to fight it again, but the coldness seemed to creep up his spine and stretched up under his skull. The struggle became too much, and he gave up. He made certain that his last thought was of Naed and Taura, not the mighty Haugar who was supposed to come for him.

As Prolur closed his eyes for his final journey and the figures moved about the dead bodies gathering souvenirs, a man on top of a horse watched in solitude from far away. When one of the wild men nudged Prolur’s body and got no signs of life, the rider, dressed in a thick green cloak, turned and rode off unnoticed.