Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 20.3 - Flight

Gretch's head rested on his chest for a second before he jerked it back up.

Wake up. Curse that old man!

Days and nights with little food and less sleep had finally caught up with him. A battle was raging inside him: his body needed to rest, his mind refused to let him. No matter how strong he was Gretch knew that eventually his mind would lose the fight.

Somehow he managed to stay upright on his horse until late in the afternoon. He halted when he saw signs that his prey had stopped by the river bank. He was relieved to see that the horses had then walked instead of galloping away from the bank.

Their horses must be spent.

He could afford to stop and recover. He tied two of the stolen horses to rough bushes and led the one he had ridden hardest downwind from the others.

"You have borne me well," he said to it. "But I only need two horses, and I need to eat."

He took out a small knife and nicked a minor vein on the neck of the horse and put his lips to it. The horse recoiled but Gretch held it firm. The warm, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Once he had drunk his fill he killed the horse as quickly and painlessly as he could. Death was a necessity, but need not be cruel. With no fire he had to eat the meat raw. When his stomach could hold no more he took off his shirt, cut off thick chunks of meat, and wrapped them in it. He then walked downwind of the horses and washed himself clean of the blood in the river. No need to spook the remaining two.

He went back to the horses, dropped into the long grass, and let sleep overtake him.

The coldness of night woke him. Sleeping in his leather armour was acceptable, but not as warm without his shirt between it and his skin. He shivered in the long grass for a few seconds while his mind formulated a plan.

They each have only one horse. I have two.

They will have food. I do not.

They will be sleeping - I hope. I have slept.

It is only two or three days' hard ride to The Trail. Anyone could be on it. I must catch them before then.

It is unwise to continue to underestimate the barbarians. And what is Xantia doing with them? 

I will have to chose the field of battle. They will follow the river for water. I will have to ride around them and take them from the north.

He rose with fresh resolve. Before he reached the tethered horses the enamel amulet on his chest burst into angry heat. He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the pain, then slapped it to his forehead. Despite the searing pain he did not allow any sound to escape his lips. All must feel pain but only the weak show it. When his eyes opened he could no longer see the two horses and the starless sky above The Endless Plains. Although his body had not moved, his mind's eye was with his Liege. He instantly prostrated himself. The vision was hazy but Gretch could tell that Liege Marext was standing in front of the sacrifice table. A still figure lay dripping upon it.

"My Liege."

"Why have you failed to bring me the box, Gretch?"

"I have not, my Liege. I am, even now, in pursuit."

"I have been pondering your absence and have concluded that there are three possibilities. Firstly, that you are slain. Clearly this is not so. Secondly, that you are not as skilled a hunter as I had thought. Thirdly, that you are a traitor. Which is it? Incompetence or betrayal?"