Stone walls rose high and sheer about them. Calyin, Midori, and Edwar Serant wound their way among the many turns, delving deep into the shadows. A soft tapping sound followed their path, high above, though none below knew it. They walked in a single column with Midori to the fore and Serant to the rear, each leading one of the horses. They held to a slow, steady pace, carefully picking their way among the rocks and crevices. Frequently, they thought of Geoffrey and Captain Brodst.
Ahead the canyon appeared to end in a solid rock wall, but still they made their way toward it, seemingly inch by inch. Lord Serant followed the lee of the river, not paying heed to the wall’s proximity to them. The churning of the water spoke volumes to him. Somewhere in front of them, the river’s path turned downward.
The river gradually cut a deep course into the rock and a distance of only a few feet separated them from the waters. As the depth gradually increased, Lord Serant began to move away from the river’s edge, and it was here that he first noticed the etchings into the rock. A shallow path of sorts had been carved out of the rocks through years of wear. The path ran smooth and straight. He regarded it as a roadway of sorts and supposed that long ago this path had been heavily traveled.
Some hours later they stopped to gather their bearings and to provide tired bodies with a bit of nourishment. The sheer wall looming immediately before them, jagged, tall and insurmountable, was perhaps an additional reason they had decided to stop. Here the trail ended, but they did not acknowledge its presence.
A high, shrill sound from high above startled them, and all conversation stopped. The three drew their blades and watched, waiting as many figures slithered down ropes in front of them and to either side. Those across the river they did not fear, for they saw no way for them to traverse it, so they turned toward the others. Slowly, they sought to retreat.
Serant flailed out with his foot, only to come upon empty air. He cocked his head back, and half turned to look. He saw the river swirling with white waters well below him. He turned quickly back to face those approaching with his eyes continually darting to the two at his side. A gleam, a glitter, he caught in Midori’s eyes, and anger was upon her face. She held her long dagger before her without wavering. Calyin gripped her blade with nervous hands, but she did not lower it as those that came closer demanded.
Lord Serant looked again to Calyin and then to Midori. He quietly told them that should all else fail, the river was their safest route, no matter their thoughts on the subject. He touched Calyin’s hand one last time, and then moved forward two steps. Calyin moved towards him, but he pushed her back. “And just where will you be?” said Calyin into Serant’s ear.
“Lower your blades; we mean you no harm. We only wish to separate you from your purse, and then we will leave you.”
“Do as I say!” said Serant, hurriedly.
“I will not go,” returned Calyin.
“Tsk tsk!” shouted the man who now stood directly in front of Lord Serant; only their blades separated them.
“Just what is it you want?” asked Serant, in a haughty deep bass.
“Only your gold, nothing more, nothing less!”
“You may have all the gold we carry if you leave us now.”
“Give it to me, and we shall leave. You have my word.”
“A word is a bond, is it not?” asked Serant, moving back a short pace.
“Why, of course, of course. If a man cannot keep a promise, he is not a man.”
Lord Serant fumbled through his cloak and retrieved a small leather pouch, which he tossed to the man. The man sheathed his sword, untied the small purse, and emptied the coins into his hand, counting each in turn, and shaking his head at each. “Surely you have more than this?”
“That is all the gold I have.”
“What of the ring on your finger and the gem on the crown of the hilt of your sword?”
“They are not gold.”
“Ah yes, but are they not worth their weight in gold?” questioned the man, raising his blade again.
“Midori, I trust Calyin’s life in your hands. Do what you must!” called Serant pushing Calyin into Midori. He lowered his eyes to the waters of the river only for an instant, and then whispered, “I am sorry,” as he pushed them both over the edge, and into the waiting waters.
“Bad, very bad. I do not like that, and when I do not like something, I usually kill the offender.”
“Just as well. Today is a good day to die!” shouted Serant charging the man.
“Not likely—” spoke the man as he called to his confederates.
Lord Serant struggled under the weight of a heavy blow, and for an instant he stared through crossed blades into his opponent’s eyes. Only then did it become obvious to him that the man he faced was oblivious to his lineage, and perhaps he truly only wished his valuables, but Serant would not part with them. There were only a few tangible things he valued above all, and one was the ring that had been passed down through generations from father to son, and the other the sword of his forefathers.
“One against dozens!” shouted a voice, yet a good distance away, “Not very fair at all!” Captain Brodst and Geoffrey wasted no time in their charge, sending men scrambling to avoid being trampled by horses’ hooves. Geoffrey raised his mount on its hind-legs just to the right of the one Serant fought, while Brodst offered a hand to Lord Serant. “We could not leave you, my friend. The farther we drew away from you, the heavier our hearts grew. Come, let us be off!”
The two horsemen made a quick, decisive retreat. Lord Serant looked back, fixing upon the upturned face. “Another day!” called out Serant, “Another day!” The man sheathed his weapon and then turned his back to them. He did not order his men to pursue because he knew the time of their next meeting would be sooner than the other thought. Serant watched as the attackers withdrew, climbing back up their ropes.
“Your timing couldn’t have been better!” exclaimed Serant patting Brodst on the back.
“Where are Calyin and Midori?”
Lord Serant brought a hand to his chin, “Oh my—” he thought. “The water—they are in the river.”
“The river?”
“Yes, the river. I didn’t see any other way.”
Geoffrey and Brodst began to laugh because for a moment it seemed funny; but the feeling passed, and it suddenly was not humorous any more. Lord Serant scoured his thoughts, searching for a quick solution, which did not come. At the time, it had seemed his only choice, but now he knew it was a brash act. He did not like to think that he was a fool.
“What in the name of the Father is that?” exclaimed Captain Brodst reining in his mount suddenly, so suddenly that Lord Serant almost lost his grip.
“That is not of the Father, of this I can assure you,” replied Geoffrey. Even though he could not clearly see those that readily approached, he recognized them. He knew nothing good would come of their meeting. The hunter beasts had only one thought on their minds, and that was their prey. Geoffrey and Brodst began to turn their mounts around, back in the direction they had come; midway, they realized their dilemma.
Neither Captain Brodst nor Lord Serant had seen anything like these before, but immediately they sensed danger and instinctively they reacted. Geoffrey bade them to return their weapons to their sheaths; as much as he hated to admit it, he knew this was an encounter they would lose, and he knew this as surely as he lived and breathed. A tiny voice in his mind hoped that perhaps they were not the objects of the beasts’ hunt, in which case they had nothing to fear.
As the creatures drew closer, their distinctive features became quite noticeable. They had the appearance of men, but a thick, fur-covered hide enshrouded their forms. Their faces were long with an elongated snout, and white upturned fangs sprouted from their mouths. Even at a distance, Geoffrey could see crystalline droplets ooze from the nearest creature’s mouth, a sign that he was looking for.
Geoffrey yelled for the captain to follow him and then retreated back down the canyon, the way they had come. Very soon they found themselves approaching the high canyon walls. Those waiting above rejoiced at the sighting, and one in particular had a broad grimace on his face. “Welcome back!” called out a now familiar voice.
“What do we do?” asked Brodst.
“This is not good, definitely not good.”
“No, it is not.”
As they turned their mounts around to face those that came up from behind them, the ravine, wherein lay the river, caught their eye, and more importantly the sound of rushing water caught their ear. Geoffrey did a mental calculation. He approximated the bandits’ numbers to be around twenty or perhaps a little more. He also knew their kind well enough to know a small reserve was probably waiting. It was at least a two-to-one ratio.
He turned back toward the leader of the bandits. He wanted to get close enough to recognize the clan, but this was also his gravest mistake. As he staggered forward, the distances closed between the two forces. They found themselves in the middle of a stand-off, and he knew they were the prize.
The pack leader of the hunters, who identified himself to the bandit chief as Ermog, dismounted at a careful distance and approached singly. He called the bandit chief to a council of words, and though he spoke in the tongue of man, his speech was slurred and did not carry well. Only the other’s words carried fully to their ears, and it was these words that sparked Geoffrey’s interest.
In the interim, he conversed with Serant and Brodst, speaking quietly, stopping as the two spoke, and starting again in low whispers, passing his concerns on to them. The bandit leader had recognized Geoffrey and thus discovered the identities of those that accompanied him. He was playing with Ermog for the price of the bounty. Geoffrey knew the teachings of the histories and the passing down of the sons of the fathers and the realms, but the Borderlands were a realm outside all else. Nowhere did the histories speak of the Bandit Kingdoms or the Hunter Clan, societies that were older than that of the Great Kingdom but had never gained recognition in civilized circles.
Geoffrey understood the references to blood and sword, coin and fist, and as the two leaders returned to their ranks, he knew what he must do. He dismounted slowly, signaling for Serant and Brodst to do the same. He made sure they made no sudden movements, and he maintained his speech in low whispers. After a close but limited survey of the ledge and the waters below, they jumped, hoping and believing the river would carry them away to safety.