A group of riders hidden in the forest watched as first Chad’s father, then the rest of his group, crossed the ford. Once on the south side, they quickened their pace and followed the river east.
One of the hidden riders turned to another in magic user’s robes and asked, “Is he among them?”
Geffen cast his spell and the dart resting upon his palm rotated until it pointed toward the north. “No,” the magic user replied. “He isn’t.”
“Should we follow my lord?” asked another of the hidden riders.
Lord Kueryn shook his head. “The thief will be wherever that which was stolen from me is,” he replied. In silence they waited until those crossing the ford had disappeared further downriver. Then emerging from the trees, he led a group of riders composed of Tribesmen and Byrdlon soldiers across the ford in pursuit of the thief.
Despite their fatigue, they rode throughout the night and into the early morning. Everyone was tired, being up over twenty four hours began taking its toll. A couple times Riyan thought he saw riders off in the distance. But whenever he pointed them out to the others, they were gone. He finally concluded that between the fatigue and fear of pursuit, his mind was playing tricks on him.
If the riders he saw had been Rupert and the soldiers, Bart was sure they wouldn’t have been satisfied to simply watch. “After what we did,” he said, “Rupert’s going to want us bad.” And so, seeing as how none but Riyan had seen the riders, they were dismissed. That didn’t mean of course no one was keeping an eye out. On the contrary, they spent more time looking over their shoulders than to the trail ahead.
They followed the river west for an hour before turning to a more northwesterly heading in order to bypass Quillim. Keeping to the deepest part of the woods, Riyan worked their way in a roundabout manner toward the entrance to The Crypt and what they believed to be the Horde below.
It was still an hour before sunrise some distance to the south when riders discovered two arrow pierced bodies partially hidden in a thicket. They wouldn’t have discovered them at all if the appearance of a kidog hadn’t drawn their attention.
Tox dismounted from his horse, walked over to the thicket. The first man he came to was lying face down. Using the toe of his boot, he turned the body over. When the dead man flipped onto its back, he recognized it as one of the two men who had been sent to follow the shepherd. He didn’t need to examine the other body to know that it was the second man of the pair.
Standing up, he turned to where Daniel still sat on his horse. “It’s the two men we sent after them,” he stated.
Next to Daniel was Captain Glaver who commanded the score and a half soldiers who rode with them. “Damn,” he cursed. “They were good too.”
“Apparently not good enough,” chided Rupert from where he sat on his horse just behind them.
Captain Glaver turned an annoyed look his way and was about to draw his sword when he caught Daniel’s shake of the head. “Boy,” he said, letting go of his sword’s hilt, “you better hold your tongue before someone cuts it out.”
Rupert cast a sullen look to Daniel. Realizing he’d get no help from that quarter, he kept silent.
One of Captain Glaver’s men came up to them. “Sir,” he said, “it looks like they picked up more men.”
“What?” questioned the captain. “How many?”
“At least a score,” he said. “Maybe more.” Pointing off to the northwest, he said, “They headed off in that direction.”
Captain Glaver nodded. “Range ahead and see if you can find them,” he said. Pointing to the two dead men on the ground, he added, “Don’t make the same mistake they did.”
“Yes sir,” the man replied then saluted. Moving to where another soldier held his horse’s reins, he mounted and took off in pursuit.
Daniel glanced to Rupert. “Any idea who these other men are?” he asked.
“How should I know?” replied Rupert.
“It doesn’t matter,” Captain Glaver said. “My men are more than capable of dealing with a force twice their size.”
Daniel locked eyes with him then nodded. “Let’s go,” he said. Then with that, their force resumed the pursuit. Somewhere ahead of them was the shepherd, and with him the knowledge of where to find the Horde.
Late afternoon saw their group deep in the foothills below the mountains separating the human lands from those of the goblins. Dark and foreboding clouds wreathed the snowcapped heights, a promise of inclement weather to come. If the storm should move their way, things could get interesting.
With the knowledge others would be following, they moved along streambeds and wended their way through the hills. They did everything they could to avoid leaving a trail that could be followed. The last thing they wanted was to lead others to the entrance of the Horde.
Finally, Riyan began working his way along the streambed which ran near the berry bushes hiding the entrance. He found it hard to believe that it hadn’t even been a year since that fateful day when Black Face stumbled into it. A grin couldn’t help but appear when he thought of that stupid sheep. Wonder whatever happened to him? Mother probably got rid of him when she sold the rest.
“When we get close,” Bart was saying, interrupting Riyan’s reverie, “it might be a good idea to leave the horses some distance away.”
Riyan nodded. “I was thinking the same thing,” he replied. “Maybe in a spot where we can backtrack along the stream.”
“Do you really think such precaution is necessary?” asked Kevik. “We’ve been riding through these hills for hours now and no pursuit has developed.”
Bart turned to him. “It’s only a matter of time,” he explained. “If not them, then others drawn here by the rumors of the Horde.”
“I understand,” replied Kevik.
Riding along the streambed, Riyan saw off to their left the meadow wherein the entrance lay. He caught Bart’s attention and silently nodded over to it. They followed the stream another ten minutes before calling a halt.
A hundred feet from the stream was a stand of trees which would make a perfect place in which to leave the horses. Riyan led them over to it and dismounted. “Take your equipment,” he said. “We walk from here.”
“Didn’t we pass it a little bit ago?” asked Chad.
Riyan nodded. “Yes we did,” he replied.
“I thought so,” Chad stated “Of course to me, one meadow looks just the same as any other.”
Grinning, Riyan tied the reins to his horse on a nearby tree limb, and with Chad beside him, walked from the trees. He glanced in the direction the entrance to The Crypt laid. “Not long now,” he commented.
“I know,” replied Chad. “Seems like we’ve been after this for a long time.”
Nodding, Riyan said, “Things certainly have changed since then. We are hardly the same as we were back when we told each other stories of wild adventures to pass the time.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Chad said. “But now when we tell a story, we’ll have lived it.”
“Then maybe you two should stop talking and get going,” Bart said as he came up behind them. “This isn’t over yet.” He and the others were finished with securing their horses and ready to depart.
“Alright,” said Riyan. “Let’s go open the Horde.” He took two steps when all of a sudden, his muscles froze. Heart and lungs continued to function, and his eyes could move, but the rest of him was stiff like a statue. Losing his balance, he fell face first to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chad tip to the side and fall. Other thuds were heard as Bart and the rest toppled over.
Unable to say anything, he desperately tried to make sense of what was going on. Then not far away, he detected movement as over two score men appeared heading in their direction. He was surprised to see not only Tribesmen bearing the distinctive color pattern of the Orack Tribe, but soldiers of Byrdlon as well. His heart sank when he saw who was leading them. It was the River Man. On his right walked the magic user, whose spell it must have been that had immobilized them. On his other side strode a red haired Byrdlon captain with a scar across the bridge of his nose. For some reason, the captain seemed strangely familiar.