Sorrow, Rain, & Amenheo

Sorrow, Rain, and Amenheo

word count= 1865

        Kyrick clutched his cloak tighter, the chilly wet drizzle continuing to harass our progress. A glance at the gray sky revealed no hint as to when it would end. Taking a look around at his companions and noticing their heads bent against the wind and rain he urged his mount forward to catch up with the leader of this cavalry column of eight, Lord Knight Tillmen. Pulling up beside him Kyrick drew breath to speak. Jack was a good leader, as good a Knight as there was, but there were times when it was best to remind him of others, for they were exhausted.

        “Jack,” Kyrick said, “we’ve been at this for better than two days now. The men and the mounts are both spent. It will be dark soon; we won’t catch anybody especially in these conditions.”

        There was a pause for just a moment as Jack appeared to be studying the way his breath formed white clouds in the chilly air. It seemed Kyrick would get no response and he almost repeated his statement. But finally Jack responded.

        “You are right my friend, signal the halt.”

        Jack turned to face his men as Kyrick signaled for them to dismount. Jackutal’s form could only be described as muscular and hard though at this moment it was covered in plate mail. His face rugged and powerful, vivid blue eyes drew in an onlooker’s, the intensity behind those orbs kept your gaze. Jack presence radiated to those around him you could feel his resolve.

        Before dismounting, Jackutal took a careful look around wanting to be completely satisfied that this would be a safe place to rest. They were on a high bluff, with a view of the terrain all around. Kythorn took a last look at the forest below them then froze, motioning with his arm for Kyrick and Jackutal to do the same. Snaking its way into the sky above the trees was a thin tendril of smoke.

        The chase had begun two days before when our caravan of soldiers, who were on a routine patrol of the area, stumbled across a sobbing human boy of about seven years. The boy had explained to Kythorn that some bad men had hurt his family. Kythorn had calmed the lad enough to convince him to take us to his home. The boy led us to a small farm house off the main road.

        We first noticed, as we approached, that there was no smoke coming from the chimney, then the reddish brown smear in the dirt leading to the door. Hands drifted to pommels of swords as the boy cried out toward the farm house. An older woman immediately burst through the door sobbing and carrying on as she clutched the boy in a hug.

        “Ardril we thought we had lost you too.”

        When the woman regained her composure she noticed eight mounted riders and quickly fell to her knees.

        “Spare us; we have no more to offer you.”

        “Dear Lady we come here not to take, but to render aid,” Jack said.

        Her eyes looked up and noticed the markings on our tunics, she quickly invited us in. Jackutal, Kythorn, and Kyrick went inside the other soldiers were given orders to keep a vigil around the house.

        Once inside a grim sight greeted us. A man struggled to sit up, but the color drained from his face and his eyes rolled back into his head and he slipped into unconsciousness. Make shift bandages had been applied to his leg, the crossbow bolt still in it. In the corner of the small room lay the motionless form, covered in a dirty, bloody sheet, of a small child. As we took stock of the situation the woman spoke.

        “Do you have a healer with you?” she asked.

        “Yes,” Jack said and went about his task.

        “Tell us what happened here,” Kyrick asked.

        The woman took a deep breath and collected herself enough to speak.

        “A group of riders, six in all, came to the house earlier today. We thought nothing of it; it is really not that uncommon. Travelers often stop by for some rest or food. We welcome the extra coin that it brings.”

        Kyrick nodded his understanding and urged the woman to continue.

        “These fellows however were a little odd; they all wore black cloaks and small purple crowns with a red gem in the center. They seemed to be looking for something. We still thought nothing of it because we see many types of travelers frequently.” She took another deep breath and continued. “Jasper, my oldest boy and Tanah, my girl went out to meet them. The men-folk were in the field and I was here cooking when I heard them both scream. The riders were taking Tanah as I step outside. I was begging them to stop, but they wouldn’t. They shot at my husband as he rounded the house and hit Jasper in the head. They killed him. They killed my boy! They took my girl!”

        The women broke out in tears and we all felt her pain and sorrow.

        “The Duchess does not allow her citizens to be preyed upon,” Jack said as he pulled out a silver medallion and showed it to the woman and it eased her torment. The medallion was etched with a sword and hammer crossed, superimposed on a set of scales.

        “In addition, we three here serve the ancient ones. Those who did this shall be punished, and if it can be done, we will return your daughter.”

        The woman merely nodded unable to speak through renewed tears
.
        The three of us stayed long enough to build a fire, bury her son, and heal wounds.

        “We shall return soon.” Jack said as we rode off.

        We had little trouble locating the tracks of the black cloaked riders, a large amount of hoof-prints were clearly visible even in the falling rain. The kidnappers were more worried about speed than stealth. We went through the episode while riding, trying to figure out who and why.

        “Black cloaks, crowns of purple, red gem,” Said Kythorn.

        “Kidnapping the girl for no apparent treasure,” added Kyrick.

        “And all two days before the eve of the falling star. It all seems to point to the Cult of Amenheo,” Jackutal said.

        We couldn’t shake the thought from our heads so we led the caravan on a relentless pursuit. Darkness fell and we barely slowed. We only stopped once over the next day and that was brief. Jackutal, Kyrick, and Kythorn had that sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs.

        “If we are unable to overtake the kidnappers the young girl would surely become the victim of some dark ritual,” Jackutal said several times as we road.

        By the time Kythorn spotted the smoke everyone was exhausted. Jackutal knew it was now or never and we all realized it as well. Pre-made infusions were gulped down and as we hit the tree line we heard the murmur of chanting.

        “Approach quietly, encircle the campsite, but do not allow yourselves to be seen. Wait for my signal,” Jack declared.

        We all nodded in understanding determination in our eyes. We split up and quickly moved into position. With all the stealth Jackutal could muster he went straight for the voices. With one hand he grabbed hold of the medallion and recited a quick prayer for success. He spotted the clearing, a small ruined structure fallen to the elements held several cultist. A bonfire near the center held the gaze of several other black cloaked figures. One lone dead tree stood on the other side and lashed to it a girl of fourteen. Nearby stood a robed man, his hood cast back revealing a bald head. Jack crept to the last available cover. Luckily silence was not particularly needed for they didn’t post and sentries and there chanting was reaching its peak. The bald man made a gesture and two other figures cut the girl loose from the tree. She must have been drugged for she did not make a run for it or struggle. The bald man drew a dagger from under his cloak and held it high, yanking the girls head back by her hair, at the same time.

        “Amenheo, great master of the dark; we come to offer a sacrifice to feed your might,” he chanted.

        His chanting fell to just above a whisper as the gathering of cultists looked on. The ringing of Jack’s blade being removed from its scabbard split the air.

        “STOP,” he commanded. “There will be no sacrifice here tonight. We have you surrounded cult of the dead.”

        There was motion all around the edges of the tree line as Jackutal’s men made themselves known. The swish of drawn swords repeated all around the tree line. The soft chanting was cut off mid-syllable and several of the cultists began to rise to their feet. We were outnumbered three to one, but they seemed unarmed, except the one dagger the bald man had. Jackutal took a confident step forward toward the girl intent on retrieving her from the hold of the priest. A mad grin came over the face of the bald priest.

        “You have no power here knight of the Old City,” the bald priest said intent on continuing the ritual, “Dark Lord, relish in my offering,” he yelled upward to the dark sky.

        “Not just a knight, one of Amenheo, but also a follower of Ur,” Jackutal replied.

        Time seemed to stand still for a moment as the dagger descended downward towards the young girl’s throat. The bald priest’s mind screamed for action but his body felt stiff and sluggish. He knew then that there was no way he would be allowed to plunge the dagger and complete the ritual. Crossbow bolts to his arm and leg caused him to canter backwards. Tanah had not even finished drawing a breath to scream when the sharp edge of Jackutal’s sword sliced through her hair, separating it from the grip of the cultist. Her eyes widened, but she still made no sound as she collapsed instantly to the ground. The bald priest, his knees on the bloody ground, closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

        “Protect me,” was all he said.

        Jackutal barely noticed the three cultists that attempted to bar his way. Training and experience dispatched them quickly. His single mined purpose was to get to the bald-headed priest. Jack got closer sword at the ready. The girl tossed herself to the side as the priest spread his arms wide and tried to grab her. Jack’s reflexes allowed him to dive in between them and the priest’s dagger harmlessly glanced across jack’s breastplate. Jackutal then ran his blade, piercing the body of the bald priest sending him crumpling to the ground next to his would be protectors. The bald priest’s eyes were still leering up to the sky as nerveless fingers dropped the ritual dagger. Jack got up and took several steps over to where Kythorn had Tanah. Moments later Kyrick joined them.

“The trip is long, we shall leave at once,” was Jackutal’s command.