The Jongurian Mission Page 19

  * * * * *

  Leisu could still see two of the men that Liu had sent forward toward the Oval, and suddenly they jerked their bows up and fired a couple of arrows.

  “Another one just rushed forward,” one of them yelled back.

  Liu motioned for another couple of men to follow the four that’d gone forward and they too made it further toward the Oval entrance without drawing fire.

  “Perhaps they made it out,” Ko said to Leisu, referring to the Adjurians.

  “Not likely with my men still firing,” Liu replied. He nodded toward the man who had first crawled forward to report back and he once again got onto his belly and disappeared around the bend in the canyon wall. After a few moments he returned.

  “There’s no more movement ahead,” he said. “I could see a few more dead Jongurians but nothing of the Adjurians. They may still be there, but they could be out of arrows.”

  Ko looked to Leisu. “He may be right. How long can they keep firing at us before they run out?”

  “They’ll still have their swords,” Leisu answered, but then turned to Liu. “Perhaps you should send another few men out, but this time at a walk.”

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. “That’s just too risky.”

  Leisu looked around at the men. Only four remained from Bindao. “Which one of you wishes an easy promotion,” he said. “All you’ve got to do is walk a little ways into the Oval.”

  The four men looked around at one another uneasily, but said nothing. A moment later one of Liu’s men spoke.

  “I’ll do it for fifty gold,” he said, stepping forward.

  “Fifty gold! You must be crazy,” Ko said, standing up to face the man, his fists clenched.

  “No,” Leisu said, stepping between the two men. He looked up at the man. “You’ll have your fifty gold when you return.”

  “Fine,” he said, and moved toward the Oval. He slowed as he got to the bend in the wall, then stepped forward and out of sight. A few moments later he came back, a large grin on his face. “No one fired at me,” he said. “I’ll take that fifty gold now, if you please.”

  “How do we know you went out far enough?” Ko asked.

  “Because I saw him,” another one of Liu’s men said as he walked up. “He walked right past where I was crouching down and halfway to the nearest boulder. Not an arrow came at him. Either those men vanished right under our eyes, or they’re out of arrows to fire at us.”

  Leisu looked from the man to Ko then Liu. “Let’s move in, then,” he said.

  Liu nodded and motioned for his men to move forward. Although they’d just seen their companion emerge from the opening to the Oval unscathed, they were still wary and advanced slowly. The man who’d gone first asked again for his gold but Liu gave him a hard hit to the head and he quickly grew silent on the matter.

  The Oval opened up in front of them and the first thing that Leisu noticed was all of their dead men lying about. Several were spread out with arrows and crossbow bolts sticking from them all around the Oval’s entrance and near the first few boulders. Further out amongst the boulders and side canyons he could see more laying dead. Then one of the men ahead of them cried out.

  “Here’s one!” the man yelled back and several other men including Leisu rushed up to see. An Adjurian lay up against a boulder, an arrow sticking from his chest near the shoulder. The wound had covered him in blood, but he was still alive and grasped his sword tightly.

  “I’m right here, come and get me,” the man said, but it was obvious that he was in no condition to fight.

  “No,” a voice called out, and another man further out and behind a boulder rose and began walking toward them. Leisu immediately recognized the man: it was his former master, Wen. “You’re no match for these men, not in your state.”

  He looked up at Leisu. “I see that you’ve chosen to follow Zhou.”

  “That’s right,” Leisu replied. “And I see that you’ve chosen to aid our enemy.”

  “Enemy?” Wen asked. Why, because they are Adjurian? Or because they know your master has freed the False King?”

  “Does it matter, old man?” Leisu asked. Two other Adjurians had risen from behind boulders by then and walked over to stand around the wounded man. Liu’s men kept their bows aimed at them, but most of their attention was directed toward the two Jongurians speaking, both obviously near to blows.

  “It always matters,” Wen said. He dropped his sword and bow to the ground. “Well, what will it be Leisu? Will you kill us now, or deliver us to your master?”

  “I’ll kill you then decide what I’ll do with these men,” Leisu replied, pulling his sword from its scabbard. “Pick up your sword.”

  “Sir, is this wise?” Ko asked, but Leisu raised his hand for him to stop.

  “Ko, you stay out of this!” Leisu said, then looked around at all of the other Jongurians. “That goes for all of you here. I want no interference in this.” He turned back to Wen. “Pick up your sword, I said. I’ve been wanting to have a real swordfight with you since we first met, and now I’ll get my wish.”

  Wen stared back at Leisu for several moments and then shrugged his shoulders. “As you wish,” he said and leaned down to pick up his sword.

  Before he even had the hilt firmly grasped in his fingers Leisu was charging toward him.

  “Look out!” one of the Adjurians yelled, but Wen had expected the rush and rolled out of the way as Leisu’s blade sliced through the air where he’d been standing. He came quickly to his feet as Leisu regained his balance.

  “You’re still quick, I see,” Leisu said as he lunged forward once again.

  Wen blocked the blow with his sword and the two men were soon moving back and forth. The canyon walls echoed with the sounds of their swords striking against one another and the men moved back, forming a circle around them. For a few moments Leisu pressed Wen toward a boulder, but just when he was about to be caught between it and Leisu’s sword, he spun right and had Leisu pressed back to the large rock. Leisu was able to offer a few quick parries, however, and they were soon both out in the open once again, neither of their blows lessening in speed or severity. Sweat began to bead on Leisu’s forehead and his teeth were bared in a savage grin, but Wen remained calm and showed not the slightest concern as he quickly dodged and parried Leisu’s blows, then moved into his own counterattacks. It became a quick dance as the two combatants whirled around the sandy ground. Once or twice the men around them let out a gasp as one of the men’s blows looked close to landing, but each time the other dodged out of the way or met the attack with an upraised sword.

  Suddenly Wen lost his footing when he stepped on an arrow laying in the sand and stumbled back a few steps, both of his arms raised up above his head for balance. Leisu saw his chance and moved forward with a few savage swings and managed to slice Wen’s tunic, which soon showed a thin line of red. Wen was quickly able to regain his balance, however, and the fight went on, the slash barely slowing him.

  Leisu began to feel his arm grow tired from all of the swinging. His attacks slowed and he spent more time blocking Wen’s thrusts. He was no longer able to push Wen around, but was instead going where the older man’s attacks sent him. He knew that if this pace continued, he’d be done.

  “Ko, shoot him!” he said loudly, but Ko only planted is feet more firmly in the ground and continued to watch the battle.

  “Somebody shoot him!” Leisu called out after a few more moments. Wen’s attacks were increasing in frequency. The man barely seemed to be tired at all.

  “Fifty gold to the first man that fires an arrow at this man!” Leisu called out again when it was clear no one was coming to his aid. “One hundred gold!” he called out, louder this time.

  “Any man that fires an arrow I’ll kill myself,” Liu answered.

  Leisu knew that he’d lost. There was no way that he could continue to block Wen’s attacks for long. He looked up at Wen, whose face showed nothing. It angered him even
more, and he gritted his teeth and let out a loud growl, then lunged forward. Wen easily swatted aside his efforts and on the last swing pushed Leisu’s sword far out to the right. In a quick flash Wen extended his arm forward and Leisu could see then feel his former master’s sword enter his stomach just under the breastbone then slide right back out. He brought his sword back for another swing, but Wen just stepped back from him and lowered his sword to the ground. Leisu took a couple of stumbling steps forward before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his sword falling from his fingers. He could feel blood begin to trickle down his chin and wiped his hand across his mouth then brought it before his eyes. It was bright red. He lowered his hand to look up at Wen, but his face was just registering the same expressionless look that he’d seen nearly ten years before when the man had left him for dead. He gave a slight smile than fell forward.

  Wen threw his sword down at his feet and Ko walked over to Leisu and crouched down, putting a finger to his throat. After a moment he shook his head and rose, looking at Liu.

  “He’s dead,” was all he said.

  “And these men?” Liu asked, motioning toward the three Adjurians huddled together, Wen standing close by them.

  Ko looked over at them for a few moments then began to walk back toward the Oval’s entrance.

  “Tie their hands; they’re our prisoners now.”

  “The old man too?,” Liu asked with surprise.

  Ko turned back to look at Wen. He stood staring back, seemingly unperturbed by the death of his former pupil. “All of them,” he said, then moved into the canyon and out of sight.

  CONCLUSION

  They made it out of the canyon and through the mountains. There was no sign of any Jongurians following them, but neither was there any of their companions either. They asked Jurin what he thought had happened to them back in the Oval, but he only shrugged when the question was put to him. After a while they no longer asked. Bryn was numb the whole time and noticed little. All of them were silent as they moved further out of the mountains and into the forest that lay at their base. When darkness fell Jurin lit a torch and they continued on. Bryn couldn’t care whether they slept or not at that point; all he wanted to do was lie down and die.

  They stopped to sleep for a few hours before dawn, then began again. None of them thought that the Jongurians had given up their pursuit, so to the men it felt very much like a chase still. They pushed themselves hard, even Willem, whose leg required that he use a makeshift crutch to walk with. Jurin had taken the crossbow bolt from his leg and stitched up the wound sometime after they’d left the Oval, but Bryn couldn’t really be sure where or when it had occurred. All he noticed was that Willem was always in the rear, but no matter the pain he must have been feeling he managed to keep up.

  The forest gave way to grassland and then to prairie. The tall grasses steadily grew shorter as they pushed further westward and eventually became sparse and thorny brush then small weeds and then little in the way of vegetation at all. Jurin had turned them in a northwestward direction as soon as it was clear they were entering the Isthmus. The plan was for them to still reach the northern coast and flag down a passing boat. The consensus of the men was that they would try to get the attention of the first boat they saw, whether Adjurian or Jongurian; they all wanted this nightmare to end.

  Sometime in the afternoon on that first full day out of the mountains they reached the Ithmian Sea. The smell of saltwater in the air was heavy and the sun beat down on them mercilessly, forcing them to shed all unnecessary clothing. The beach was made of fine-grained sand and stretched on for leagues. Small waves lapped up against the shore.

  “Do we just wait here then until a ship passes?” Rodden asked when they got to the water’s edge.

  “That could be a long wait,” Willem said, “it would probably be best if we kept walking west.”

  “I agree,” Jurin said. “There’s no telling how close the Jongurians are behind us. Best to keep moving.”

  “We don’t even know that there are Jongurians behind us,” Rodden said.

  “I don’t want to sit here and wait to find out,” Jurin replied.

  That ended the discussion. They picked up their packs and began walking along the edge of the beach where the sand ended and the dry, cracked ground of the plains began. The sand of the beach continually encroached further up into the plains and soon they were forced to walk along it if they wanted to keep the water within sight. Willem asked if they should do anything about the footprints they were leaving behind them, but Jurin just shook his head. If the Jongurians were after them they wouldn’t need footprints to find them, he said. They didn’t spot a single ship all that day and into the evening. The sun went down somewhere over the flat horizon far ahead of them, turning the skies above the water a dark purple then bright orange before the black of night took hold. Jurin called for a stop. They needed to get some rest if they wanted to put the leagues behind them the next day. They drank sparingly from the water skins, the only nourishment they had. Bryn fell asleep almost immediately after putting his head down, the dull sound of the waves washing ashore a soothing relief to his numbed mind.

  They woke early the next morning as the sun was just beginning to crest the mountains to their rear. Once again they started another day with no food. The biggest problem would be the sun, Jurin told them. They all wrapped an extra shirt or some cloth around their heads to protect against its bombardment, but nothing could be done to assuage the heat they felt. It was as if they were baking in a large oven hour upon hour. There were no trees or even any large rocks to provide shade. There was nothing to do but keep putting one foot in front of the other and press on.

  That afternoon Willem said that they only had one full water skin left for the four of them. By nightfall it was only half-full. Jurin told them that their best chances at getting through the desert were to travel by night when the sun was not so hot. They took an hours rest while the sun set over the western horizon then got back to their feet.

  There was no reason to light a torch: there was nothing ahead of them but flat sandy ground and they could see the faint outline of where the waves crashed against the beach. The moon was still large enough to impart enough light that they had no trouble seeing. The unrelenting heat of the day gave way to a deep coldness at night. There were no clouds to speak of overhead to keep in the warmth of the day, so as soon as the sun set, the temperatures dropped. The sweat in their clothes grew cold, and instead of being a welcome relief to them it was much more of a burden. All of them were shivering as they moved through the darkness. The first rays of dawn put smiles on their faces and they pushed on another hour before the sun was beating down on them and they were sweating once again. They planted the swords and crossbows into the sand and tied extra shirts, pants, coats, and anything else together to create a makeshift shelter to keep the sun off of them while they slept through the day. After walking all of the previous day and through the night they were fast asleep.

  They drank the last of their water before setting out that evening. Rodden asked Jurin and Willem how much further they’d have to walk, but neither had an answer for him. Their morale had been dropping since the end of the first day when they hadn’t seen a ship. It grew worse each day that the sea remained empty. At one point during the second day Willem shouted and began waving at what he thought was a passing ship far out on the horizon. It turned out to be just a seagull flying far off in the distance, however, and they returned to their silent walking. By the third day they rarely bothered to even look toward the sea. All hopes for catching a passing fishing boat were gone. All they could do was continue walking, and even that became difficult. Their pace slowed considerably as they shivered through the night and they stopped well before dawn to erect their makeshift shelter and collapse into sleep. Jurin woke them all when the sun was still high and said that they needed to keep moving. Without water time was now as much against them as the sun; it wouldn’t do to sleep more
than a few hours each night now.

  Their bodies began to break down. First their lips became dry and cracked from lack of water. All of them had severe sunburns which were little more than a nuisance at first but eventually inhibited their movement, the pain was so bad. They became lightheaded and disoriented, even more than they’d been from the lack of food. Often times after they would resume walking after taking a short rest break, one of them would invariably begin moving in the wrong direction without knowing it. The flickering heat waves began to play tricks on their minds and all of them had begun to see things that weren’t there. The most often sight was a distant pool of water just over the horizon. Sometimes they’d all get excited at how adamantly the claim was expressed and their pace would increase for a time until it became obvious there was nothing. Another hour or two would pass and the process would repeat itself. It was all each man could do to just focus on his feet and somehow will them to move.

  The sun was high when they stopped for the day. They didn’t even bother staking up their shelter; instead each man took a shirt or coat and draped it over himself for protection. The hunger pangs and the dryness of their throats made sleep nearly impossible, but nobody wanted to move anymore either. They just lay there in misery.

  The fourth day began like all the others. The sun shined straight down on them as if laughing at their plight. They pulled themselves up and moved, but shortly after starting out Willem fell to the ground and didn’t get up. Jurin moved back to pull him to his feet and he made it a few more steps before crashing down to the ground again. He said he couldn’t go on and just needed a little more rest. They urged him to get up, but he couldn’t be convinced. They pressed on without him, telling him to just catch up when he could. After a while he disappeared behind them and it was almost as if they’ always been three moving across this vast desert. Colors began to swirl in their vision and walking in a straight line became impossible. They were no longer even following the sea Bryn noticed when he looked over to his left at one point. Fine golden sand completely surrounded them in all directions.

  At some point that afternoon, or morning, or perhaps close to evening, Bryn couldn’t tell anymore, Jurin just sat down and stared off into the distance. Bryn and Rodden didn’t even slow their shambling gate to ask him what he was doing, they just kept moving.

  There was no sound in the desert around them except for a steady ringing in their heads which they thought could only be the sound of the sun slowly killing them. Bryn began to think that it would’ve been better to die in the Oval with the rest of the men, and he hoped that Iago, Trey, Jal, and Wen didn’t make it out so that they wouldn’t have to move through this hell. The sun began to set and Bryn turned to Rodden to suggest they sleep for a few hours, but Rodden wasn’t there. He slowly turned to look around him, but he could see him nowhere. He was completely alone. He fell to the ground and would have cried if his body had enough water to spare for tears, which it did not. Somehow he managed to fall asleep or pass out.

  He woke with the sun shining painfully in his eyes. He decided not to get up. What was the point? This would be the fifth day that they’d been in the desert he thought, but couldn’t be sure. The other three men were lying down somewhere behind him, dying slowly. He would quietly join them. As he stared up at the clear blue sky above, Bryn thought about the rolling green fields of Eston. He would never see them again, but it didn’t seem to bother him that much. He was beyond caring about anything. A feeling of peaceful serenity filled him and all of his cares vanished. The pain in his stomach grew less and the taste of water didn’t constantly fill his thoughts. He knew that he must be close to death, and welcomed it.

  Death himself must be walking toward him now, he thought, when he heard what sounded like footfalls approaching from the distance. The sound grew louder and then suddenly a shadow stretched over his face and then a man leaned over him to block out the sun. He had a white towel wrapped around his head and a loose fitting type of robe around him. He put a water skin to Bryn’s lips and he was filled with such a feeling of joy at his first taste of water in three days that he began to cry.

  “It’s alright,” the man said as he rubbed Bryn’s hair back. “Who are you and how have you come to be here?”

  Bryn’s voice came out harsh and cracked and seemed barely audible to him. “Bryn Fellows, from Tillatia,” he croaked. “We were attacked by Jongurians.”

  “Are there anymore of you?” the man asked him.

  “Yes, three more behind me somewhere,” Bryn managed to say. It was harder to speak than he realized and it drained him. The man gave him another drink of water and Bryn got a look at the water skin. It had the Ithmian insignia on it, a single castle tower on golden sand surrounded by water. A huge smile crept onto Bryn’s face at the sight causing his lips to crack painfully, but he didn’t care. He pointed at the water skin and looked into the man’s eyes.

  “Palen,” he said before losing consciousness.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

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