Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 9.1 Khashbal

Khashbal Clan's lands were large and rich. For three days Alam and Tajar rode across the western portion of it. They rode as fast as they dared to push their horses because if they were caught their lives would be worth very little. Although the Empa and Khashbal clan were not enemies they were far from allies. The plan was to quickly pass through them unseen and come out of them straight onto The Trail. From there it would be an easy ride of a day or two to reach the town of Lasthome.

Once the rains began they forgot about trying to be secretive. Long range vision was destroyed by the rain so the only danger they had was a patrol coming across their fresh tracks or stumbling into them. Behind them the mountains were swallowed by the rain, in front of them the land was veiled in grey. Occasionally some gentle hills and gullies would break up the tedium of the land. These always had a fattened stream flowing in them that had to be crossed. Such places had trees that would provide a bit of shelter but Alam and Tajar did not stop. These breaks in the land were the exception not the rule; hours would pass without seeing anything but the flat, featureless tedium of long grass made heavy with rain.

Every inch of Alam and Tajar was wet. All of their possessions were soaked except for the contents of their leather oil-bags. The Clans People of The Endless Plains always took with them a large leather bag treated with oils and fats to make it waterproof. It would be used not only to keep things dry, but as a floatation aid when crossing rivers.

With no sun or stars to guide them Alam had no idea where they were, or if they were even heading in the right direction. Tajar seemed to know what he was doing and Alam simply had to trust him. The two friends rode in miserable silence - heads bowed, resigned to their discomfort.

It was late afternoon when Tajar suddenly reined in his horse.

"Alam stop!"

Alam snapped out of his musing and pulled on the reins. He noticed that Mist's ears were pricked forward and her head was up. In front of them, only eighty paces away, were cows. They had come upon the edge of a large herd. The cows jerked their heads up and complained loudly at Alam and Tajar.

"Damn!" said Tajar.

"What?" asked Alam.

"We're spotted!" Tajar pointed to three riders on the outskirts of the herd who were clustered together and pointing at them.

"So? They're only cowherds."

"Yes," said Tajar as he prodded his horse into a canter away from the herd. "But there will be warriors nearby to protect the herd."

They kicked their horses into a gallop and skirted around the herd. Minutes passed slowly with Alam checking over his shoulder constantly. The rain made it impossible to see if they were pursued. As the day's light was just beginning to fade the rain subsided to miserable drizzle which still kept them soaked but opened visibility. Their horses, already tired, became slower and slower.

"Come on, Mist," Alam coaxed her, "Just a bit further. We will be safe if we make it to the night."

Behind them dark smudges appeared in the drizzle. Slowly, but surely, the indistinct marks took the form of a line of horses riding after them.

"They are gaining quickly," stated Alam.

"Fresher horses," said Tajar.

"I can't tell how many there are," said Alam.

"Me either," concurred Tajar.

"This is pointless." said Alam. "There's nowhere to hide and they'll be on us before dark. Follow me!"

He pulled Mist's reins to the right and directed her to where a small solitary hillock rose out of the fields. They reached the top of the hillock and dismounted. Alam pulled out his axe and stood with its head on the ground to indicate that he was armed but wanted no trouble. Tajar imbedded half a dozen arrows in the ground by his right foot. They were ready for quick reloading if needed.