as you request, Lord Teeg.”
The shabby man nodded then lay his heels into the roan’s flanks. The beast lunged forward and darted into the night.
CHAPTER 5: THE FRENZY OF THE KILL
Nearly two days since their stop at the pond and Ader and his small group rested intermittently. As with all of their breaks, Sprig disappeared into the ravines only to return within the half hour to alert the group of the approaching Ulrog pack.
The stress of the journey took its toll on animal and man alike. Even Tarader’s normally regal gait became a heavy headed trudge through the grasslands. Ader turned in Kael’s direction and knew the situation called for a hard decision. The boy’s chestnut became more of a burden than help. The little horse’s step grew tentative and obviously painful. Ader whispered to his giant gray mount and the horse halted.
“Kael,” said the old man. “We would make faster time with you on foot. The chestnut can go no further.”
The boy frowned and nodded in agreement. He quickly dropped from the horse and removed his belongings, slinging a pack across his back.
“Send him south,” said Ader to the boy. “The Ulrog can eat mud if required, but horse flesh would be preferable.”
Kael nodded somberly to his teacher and turned the chestnut south. The boy loosened a strap from his pack and used it to give the haggard horse a sharp crack across the rear. With a jolt the chestnut lurched from the strap and trotted into the grasslands.
Kael turned back to his group and frowned. The situation looked bleak. Eidyn held out his hand.
“Come up, Kael,” said the Elf. “My stallion can carry us both.”
Kael moved toward the Elf but Ader’s hand rose in protest.
“No,” said the Seraph. “We cannot waste the animal’s strength. Kael can run beside us for a while. We may need your stallion’s speed in the end.”
“Ader is correct,” nodded Kael. “I have been on horseback for too long. I will walk.”
“Then we shall each spend a time on the stallion,” returned Eidyn. “When you tire I will take your place and you shall ride.”
“Agreed,” replied Kael.
Both young men turned to Ader and he nodded his approval. Sprig smiled and slid from the back of Tarader to stand beside Kael. The Southland boy grinned at his diminutive counterpart and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“I shall try to keep up with you, my friend,” said Kael.
“One of the Elven archers and the Elven child are on foot,” grunted the tracker as he studied the ground beneath him.
Hnarg’s brittle lips curled into a smile of satisfaction.
“Their time grows short,” whispered the priest.
The tracker’s head rose and he took several strides south staring at the swaying seed heads of the tall grasses.
“The lame animal was sent south,” growled the tracker. “It could not have gone far.”
At the mention of the weak horse several members of the pack lifted their weary heads and turned in the direction the tracker indicated. One of the larger Hackles slowly lifted his cleaver and peered into the grasses. Suddenly, the rocky fist of Hnarg crashed into the side of the Hackle’s head and sent him sprawling onto the ground. Hnarg stood menacingly over the Hackle, his fists clenched and the Fire of Chaos in his eyes.
“You would risk all for a piece of horse flesh?” roared Hnarg as his eyes left the Hackle and swept the pack. “Fools! We stand in the heart of the horsemen’s lands. The lame beast was sent south for a reason. Should any of us follow it in order to fill our bellies, we most certainly would draw nearer a camp of the Eru. As it stands, the old man has steadily drawn us south as we move east. He is no fool. He prays that his group stumbles upon the horsemen. If they do, we are doomed. Our only hope is to take the Seraph’s head and quickly retreat to the great mountains. The longer we tarry, the shorter grow our chances of survival. We are close. Keep your bellies empty for one
The shabby man nodded then lay his heels into the roan’s flanks. The beast lunged forward and darted into the night.
CHAPTER 5: THE FRENZY OF THE KILL
Nearly two days since their stop at the pond and Ader and his small group rested intermittently. As with all of their breaks, Sprig disappeared into the ravines only to return within the half hour to alert the group of the approaching Ulrog pack.
The stress of the journey took its toll on animal and man alike. Even Tarader’s normally regal gait became a heavy headed trudge through the grasslands. Ader turned in Kael’s direction and knew the situation called for a hard decision. The boy’s chestnut became more of a burden than help. The little horse’s step grew tentative and obviously painful. Ader whispered to his giant gray mount and the horse halted.
“Kael,” said the old man. “We would make faster time with you on foot. The chestnut can go no further.”
The boy frowned and nodded in agreement. He quickly dropped from the horse and removed his belongings, slinging a pack across his back.
“Send him south,” said Ader to the boy. “The Ulrog can eat mud if required, but horse flesh would be preferable.”
Kael nodded somberly to his teacher and turned the chestnut south. The boy loosened a strap from his pack and used it to give the haggard horse a sharp crack across the rear. With a jolt the chestnut lurched from the strap and trotted into the grasslands.
Kael turned back to his group and frowned. The situation looked bleak. Eidyn held out his hand.
“Come up, Kael,” said the Elf. “My stallion can carry us both.”
Kael moved toward the Elf but Ader’s hand rose in protest.
“No,” said the Seraph. “We cannot waste the animal’s strength. Kael can run beside us for a while. We may need your stallion’s speed in the end.”
“Ader is correct,” nodded Kael. “I have been on horseback for too long. I will walk.”
“Then we shall each spend a time on the stallion,” returned Eidyn. “When you tire I will take your place and you shall ride.”
“Agreed,” replied Kael.
Both young men turned to Ader and he nodded his approval. Sprig smiled and slid from the back of Tarader to stand beside Kael. The Southland boy grinned at his diminutive counterpart and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“I shall try to keep up with you, my friend,” said Kael.
“One of the Elven archers and the Elven child are on foot,” grunted the tracker as he studied the ground beneath him.
Hnarg’s brittle lips curled into a smile of satisfaction.
“Their time grows short,” whispered the priest.
The tracker’s head rose and he took several strides south staring at the swaying seed heads of the tall grasses.
“The lame animal was sent south,” growled the tracker. “It could not have gone far.”
At the mention of the weak horse several members of the pack lifted their weary heads and turned in the direction the tracker indicated. One of the larger Hackles slowly lifted his cleaver and peered into the grasses. Suddenly, the rocky fist of Hnarg crashed into the side of the Hackle’s head and sent him sprawling onto the ground. Hnarg stood menacingly over the Hackle, his fists clenched and the Fire of Chaos in his eyes.
“You would risk all for a piece of horse flesh?” roared Hnarg as his eyes left the Hackle and swept the pack. “Fools! We stand in the heart of the horsemen’s lands. The lame beast was sent south for a reason. Should any of us follow it in order to fill our bellies, we most certainly would draw nearer a camp of the Eru. As it stands, the old man has steadily drawn us south as we move east. He is no fool. He prays that his group stumbles upon the horsemen. If they do, we are doomed. Our only hope is to take the Seraph’s head and quickly retreat to the great mountains. The longer we tarry, the shorter grow our chances of survival. We are close. Keep your bellies empty for one
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