The Pillar of Fire

Chapter 5 - A Swift Exodus

Chapter 5
A Swift Exodus

A shadowy form swept across the horizon, running quickly across the tall stone wall of the city. Archimedes had been watching this shape for some time now, which was no easy feat in the dim light.

He didn’t need to see it to know what it was. It was a Guard: Vesuvius Rath’s personal assassins. Probably
the same one he’d seen the night before, though there were probably at least a dozen more around the city.

They were ruthless and vile creatures that came from the East, on the border of the Oriens. They had horrible eyesight, but their hearing was extremely acute. He was glad that Orek was keeping quiet. It was imperative that they avoid detection as long as possible.

Archimedes turned his attention to Orek, who rode in front of him, slouching a little over his horse. His head was down and the cowl of his cloak was pulled low over his face. Archimedes guided his horse beside Orek, still keeping his eye on the shadow.

“Where are we going?” Orek whispered, turning his head only slightly to look at Archimedes. He was cautious, and didn’t reply at first, but decided to risk it just once. The Guard was still a good distance away.

“Through the forest first, to shake and pursuit, and then we make for Caaga. But that’s all I can say now safely. Like I said, I can’t use my magic to protect us if we’re detected.”

“Okay.” His voice sounded satisfied for the first time that night.

Archimedes looked up at the wall again—which was close to them now—searching for the guard. It was gone.

“s***,” he muttered. He kicked his horse sharply in the sides and it surged forward filling the streets with the sound of thundering hooves. Turning around, he saw that Orek had done the same. Detection didn’t matter any more, but if they were fast, they might be able to get a significant head start, and then lose them in the forest.

“Archimedes!” Orek yelled from behind him. “On the rooftop to your right… there’s someone following us.”

Archimedes turned in his saddle to face the Guard, a cold pit forming in his stomach.

Now he had a good look at his enemy, who was running alongside them from rooftop to rooftop, a long, gleaming knife in hand. Bandages covered its eyes and it was clothed in a tough-looking leather jerkin. It was smaller than most humans, about a head shorter than Archimedes. Cuts criss-crossed down it’s arms, most likely from punishments of some sort.

It smiled, showing rows of decayed and broken teeth and then launched itself from atop a building towards him.

Archimedes let go of the reins and drew his sword, just quickly enough to catch the arching slash of the Guard’s knife. The creature landed atop Archimedes, driving him from atop his horse. He hit the ground hard on his back, driving all the air from his lungs. Orek’s horse veered, its massive hooves missing Archimedes’ head by inches.

The Guard picked itself up and stumbled over to Archimedes. It picked him up by the hem of his robe, and brought him up so they were face to face, baring its rotten teeth at him. The acrid stench of its breath threatened to knock him unconscious. It raised its knife, and jabbed it in to Archimedes’ shoulder. He cried out as a sharp pain tore down his arm, sending it into convulsions.

The creature wrenched it out, blood already welling from the wound. It put its tongue to the blade, and licked the blood from it, smiling that rotten smile again.

It gave a sibilant hiss, a little chuckle showing through as it raised its knife again.

It was cut short, as its neck erupted in a gout of crimson blood. It fell to the ground, still spouting blood from its sliced jugular. Orek stood behind it, a look that was an odd combination of incredible surprise and determination on his face. His scimitar he held loosely with his left hand, its blade bathed with crimson blood. He could feel the cruel glee emanating from within it. Rasheda probably reveled in the feeling of being used to kill.

“Thank you,” said Archimedes.

“Any day,” Orek answered. "Let’s get out of here. You’re losing blood fast.”

Archimedes hadn’t noticed it up until now, but blood was running freely down his arm. Orek held out his hand and Archimedes pulled himself up on the horse so he was seated behind Orek.

“Ride!” Archimedes yelled, and Orek dug his heels into the horse’s sides. It gave a cry, and then galloped down the road, gaining fast on the gate. Archimedes could already begin to see the multitude of Guards that was approaching them. Two stood atop the wall, bows up and arrows knocked. They would fire soon. Archimedes raised his hand and small bolts of static energy began to jump between his fingers. The rush of adrenaline had impeded his judgment, and he no longer cared if about the consequences. It was fight, or die. Suddenly, with a mighty thunderclap, a bolt of lightning leapt from his outstretched hand. It smote the two assassins on the walls, blowing one completely in half, but leaving the other with just enough life left to loose an arrow, which flew with a thump into Orek’s leg. Archimedes had enough time to grab the reins and stabilize Orek, who had slumped over in pain.

The gate was ahead, wide open as he had planned. Beyond, lay the edge of the forest, and temporary sanctuary for them. They flew through the gate, arrows whistling through the air and striking the ground uselessly. In seconds they would be out of range, and unable to be caught. None of them would pursue into the woods, and they had gathered enough information that it wasn’t necessary.

Orek was unconscious in front of him. From the looks of it, the arrow had narrowly missed his femoral artery. He would be awake soon though. He needed to back the arrow out, and the only way to do that was extend the cut and pull the arrow out slowly. Archimedes rode only a short ways into the woods, and laid Orek upon a soft bed of leaves. His own wound was minor as of now, and he managed to close it up while he tied a makeshift tourniquet around the boy’s leg.

*           *           *          *

Orek awoke to a stabbing pain in his leg. Archimedes was crouching over his legs, knife in hand. Orek cocked his head up to see what was happening, and was almost sick from what he saw. A crude black arrow protruded from his leg. He felt another stabbing pain, and saw Archimedes working hurriedly with his knife. Orek let out a cry.

“Don’t yell,” Archimedes hissed. “I need to back this arrow out. I’m going to open the wound up and retrieve the head.”

“Just pull it out,” Orek gasped, clenching his teeth firmly.

“Can’t… it could be barbed. And I don’t want to hit a major vein on the way out. Here, bite on this it. It’ll help.” Archimedes reached over and snapped a stick from a nearby branch, and placed it between Orek’s teeth.

Orek bit down hard on the stick and braced himself for another stabbing pain. It came moments later, as he felt the cold steel of the blade work further into the flesh.

“Archimedes!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t care how you do it, just get it out now!”

“Almost there… I can see the head. It’s barbed, so I’ll back it out slowly.” Archimedes dropped the knife and put one hand on the shaft of the arrow. The other hand was in the air, tendrils of white energy extended extending down to Orek’s leg, past his own point of vision.

He couldn’t exactly see the wound, for the earth that he lay upon was curved, thus blocking his vision.