Demon Child: Chapter 12 Ramaldi Gold
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At first light the warriors led their horses up the steep winding path and made their way further west following the highlands looking out over the sea. It was slow going through the twisted forest and they did not find another way down the tall cliffs. Each day Aylanna rode at the back of the column listening to the wind swirl and whistle through the tree branches. Each night she resumed her duties of serving the warriors, blessing them with her magic and then would return to sleep at Jhardron's side. No more dreams haunted her nights and the Khan did nothing more than hold her close to share his warmth with her in the night.
There was a subdued mood pervading the regiment. It was like the trees pressing close on either side of the riders, shutting out the horizon, were wearing on their spirits. Finally Jhardron took one last long look out across the ocean from the lip of the tall cliff and then gave the order to head south. The further they traveled from the sea, the forest became less dense and the more quickly they could travel, and the more their spirits seemed to expand. Aylanna could sense that her warriors were creatures of the wide open spaces.
Once the regiment was free to move quickly, Jhardron pushed them to move faster, impatient to reunite with the wagons. The warriors pushed their mounts to a ground eating trot and Aylanna soon found that fatigue was her greatest enemy. It was exhausting to ride at that bone jarring rhythm and each night she almost staggered through her duties. Several times the scouts returned reporting finding the signs of human passage. A large party, the scouts estimated easily over a hundred, had moved across the grasslands on foot, leaving behind abandoned camps, odd discarded objects like clothing, household items, latrines, and on one occasion an abandoned wagon with a broken wheel and the remains of a carcass of a horse that had been butchered for its flesh.
This news had made Jhardron frown and speak rapidly, quietly with Jhu'kresh and his other lieutenants about something that Aylanna could not quite hear, but their mood was clear. This was not something they feared, their mood was that of a hunting hound, finally scenting his prey.
Then the scouts returned, with disturbing news. They had found the track of wagons, the Bak wagons, but there were other tracks with them as well. A number of tracks of men on foot had followed along with Kwal'kek and the boys herding the horse herd. The scout said that the footsteps of the men were mixed with the Bak horsemen so that they were clearly traveling together. The ominous news was that the wagons had turned south and were no longer on a path toward the original rendezvous point.
Jhardron's face had turned grim and the regiment had mounted up. If Aylanna had thought the pace was punishing before, she learned what true speed was now. The warriors flew across the grass, leaning low over their mounts. Xin'sha was hard pressed to keep up, but Aylanna had caught the fevered tension of the warriors, and leaned low, communicating with the little mare, pleading with her to do her best. And the little mare had shown her heart, straining to keep up the pace of the taller, stronger stallions.
When the little mare finally began to falter and fall behind, Klektor had pulled alongside on his big red stallion. He looked at the sweat streaked little mare and reached for Aylanna pulling her to sit behind him on the faster, stronger stallion, easing the mare's burden. As he kicked the stallion back into a canter, Aylanna wrapped her arms around his waist and yelled into his ear. "What is it that has happened?"
His voice carried back to her over the pounding of the hooves, "Only the gods know for sure, but there was rumor of bandits and Ramaldi refugees at the gathering. Kwal'kek would not have turned south without the Khan's orders. He would never have done that voluntarily, there is something wrong. Now hold tight, ha'akh, there will be no respite until we have our quarry in our grasp."
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As the regiment came over the crest of a low hill, Kwal'kek, Tollarra and the youths were not alone. Nearly two dozen adult men and youths in grasslands herders garb were walking alongside the wagons. At the sound of the pounding hooves they turned to face the charging regiment, gripping spears and bows in their hands.
The regiment swept down, the hooves of the sweat streaked horses thundering. Klektor moved his mount close beside Xin'sha and Aylanna made the shift back to the mare's saddle with an alacrity that made her grin in surprise. She turned to him to exclaim her triumph at her success performing the tricky rider's move that she had watched the boys do repeatedly as they had practiced for the games, but he was already gone. Tim'kah was there instead, his face grim with determination. He reached for the little mare's reins and held her back. Aylanna looked around and realized that he was holding back, waiting on the crest next to Jhardron. The rest of the riders never slowed in their advance, charging down toward the wagon and at the last minute, veering to one side, swirling around and surrounding the wagons and the strangers.
Only then did Jhardron advance and Tim'kah followed close behind leading Aylanna on her mare. Kwal'kek raised his hand in greeting, his old voice bellowing that they were late, that he had expected them days ago. He shouted out that he had thought maybe the demons had eaten them for a snack or stolen them across the sea. He kicked his heavy old stallion into a canter and came up to meet his Khan. As he approached, he gestured broadly at the strangers, this time his voice pitch low for his Khan's ears only, "You can see we've picked up a bit of an escort. So far they haven't made a move and your orders are not to attack unless provoked, but there is a bad smell about them."
Jhardron nodded, never taking his eyes off the strangers, riding closer. Aylanna could sense a tension among these men, a wary, almost angry watchfulness. A foreboding made the hair on her neck prickle. The strangers had gathered into a knot and were talking rapidly to one another in furtive whispers. Jhardron's voice was wary, "Do they have a leader?"
Kwal'kek cleared his throat and spat, "There is one that does most of the talking. He says they are hunters from the Bitter Grass Eaters tribe," the old warrior nodded toward the wagons and Tollarra perched there, watching, "...but the ha'akh says they are not really from that tribe. She says they do not have the right tattoo marks on their faces. She thinks they may be from some stragglers from the Ramaldi but she says they speak the grasslands dialect so she is not sure."
The old warrior gripped the handle of one of his scimitars, "I think they thought they had found a fat bird for the taking, a horse herd and wagons guarded only by a half dozen youths an old man and a woman. They would have been sorely surprised. The only reason they live now is your orders."
The corner of Jhardron's mouth twitched but his eyes were serious, "Without question. And now the fat bird has grown many heads." He cast a sharp eye on the group, "And yet, I still have my orders. Perhaps we will let these hunters snare themselves. Have the demon come and speak for me."
