The poor beast reared as they came together and he came up under its right shoulder as it flailed and tried to keep from losing its balance. With a shock he straightened up as he passed under the horse and drove all of his momentum up and forward; the move cost him most of his forward speed, yet after stumbling drunkenly for several yards he was able to regain his rhythm and begin running again. The horse he had struck was nowhere to be seen but he didn’t pause to ponder that mystery, choosing instead to focus on catching up to Penny and her abductors. They had gained several tens of yards in distance after his collision.
Dorian ran on. His breath was coming heavily now, and he was starting to stagger every so often as he ran, but he didn’t slow. His mouth tasted of blood and iron while his lungs sounded like a raspy set of bellows, but he ran on. Those he was chasing didn’t make the mistake of sending anyone else back to delay him, but he saw Ruth looking over her shoulder frequently. She seemed surprised at his perseverance, and she didn’t give the impression that she surprised easily. Dorian grinned at the thought.
Long minutes passed and still his chase continued. They had turned off of the road near the forest, a mile or so from Lancaster, and now they were following a small trail. They had probably planned the route in advance to help avoid any patrols or pursuit, but they hadn’t counted on Dorian. The smaller trail with its tendency to wander and the occasional low limb forced the riders to slow even more and now Dorian was gaining rapidly. He was now within ten yards of the last horse, an unused palfrey following the rearmost armsman’s mount. The man had wrapped its reins loosely around the front of his saddle, keeping his hands free while he nervously watched Dorian closing on them.
The rider’s face was a study in fear as he watched Dorian draw close, till he was almost able to touch the free horse the man was leading. Drawing his sword in one economical motion Dorian neatly severed the left rear leg of the horse several feet from the ground. Screaming in pain the animal fell and began tumbling; its cries of pain combined with the jerking of the lead rope connecting it to the horse ahead of it created instant pandemonium. In seconds the trail was littered with the bodies of both horses along with the unfortunate rider.
Dorian ignored the carnage and ran on, though he was forced to leap over one of the horses as it fell. He regretted killing the horses, but at the time he had only one thought on his mind… the two people he was charged with protecting.
Ruth rode in the lead, with Penny in front of her and looking backward she gauged Dorian’s distance carefully. The look on her face worried him for a moment for it had changed. It was no longer the face of someone desperate to escape but rather the face of someone planning their next move. Drawing her sword she cut the lead line that tethered Miriam’s mount to hers, leaving the unguided horse to drift away. Then she faced forward again and leaned to the left, stretching out her sword arm, as if she meant to cut down an invisible foe.
Her action puzzled Dorian until he saw the rope, which she gracefully cut in two as she rode past, and then he felt the rumble in the ground. It was one of the oldest and simplest traps, a deadfall of cut logs piled and braced up and to the left of the trail. Once the rope was cut the supports keeping the timbers in place fell away and the logs began rolling sideways across the trail, sweeping horses and men away, like some wooden tide. The only one that escaped the trap was Ruth… along with Penny naturally.
The horse bearing Miriam’s body went down as its legs were swept sideways by the first of the rolling timbers. Luckily her ‘mount’ had been slowing down already and Dorian was nearly beside it when the cascade of logs arrived. Leaping forward he caught her as her body tumbled from its back and without knowing what else to do he dropped to the ground and tried to shield her body with his own. Chance as much as good reflexes allowed him to get her onto the ground so he could cover her body with his own before the rest of the wooden avalanche arrived.
The cut logs averaged more than a foot in diameter and they thundered and bounced across the trail, sometimes bouncing over him and occasionally glancing off of his shoulders and back. The impacts came with tremendous force and Dorian was driven hard into the ground, until he feared he might crush Miriam with his own body. Then the logs stopped coming and silence rose up suddenly in the aftermath.
Examining himself he saw that his arms had been driven into the ground past his elbows, and one knee had gouged a deep divot into the earth. Yet somehow both he and Miriam were still whole, though he still was unsure if she was alive or if he had wasted his time protecting a corpse. Everyone else, both the remaining riders and their horses were strewn, broken and mangled across the trail. It was very apparent that they were dead, though one horse was still whinnying pitifully as it died.
Pushing carefully away from the earth Dorian pulled himself free and shook the dirt loose before picking up Miriam’s still body. He carried her to the verge of the trail and laid her gently among the ferns, away from the area the logs had torn up. As he did he noticed blood seeping down his armor, staining both of his gauntleted hands where they touched her. Somewhere within the seemingly invincible plate he wore he was bleeding… probably in several places, though he couldn’t see any place where the armor had been breached or compromised.
One rider had escaped, Ruth, and with her she carried Penny. The two of them were no longer in sight but Dorian could hear the sound of the horse bearing them away. Standing upright he began walking, following the direction they had gone down the trail. His body had become a throbbing mass of pain and now that he had stopped running Dorian wondered how he had managed to do it for so long. Exhaustion and weariness had taken on entirely new levels of meaning for him.
“Faster… I have to move faster,” he told himself, urging his legs to move more quickly. Each step was agony but his legs did seem to be responding, though he couldn’t seem to manage to get past a fast walk. This went on for several minutes, while the sound of Ruth’s horse got further and further distant. Eventually he could no longer hear it at all, yet he continued to walk.
After an indeterminate time, in which the only sounds to be heard were those of his labored breathing and the noise made by his armor as he walked, he heard something new. It was the cry of a horse in pain followed by a heavy thumping sound, as if something heavy had struck the soft earth. This was followed by the sound of Penny swearing, until her voice was cut short. Silence followed.
Without realizing it Dorian had begun to run again. Energy he knew he did not possess was flowing into him and his battered body responded by running faster. Droplets of blood flew from his hands as his arms and legs churned with increasing speed. He raced forward and his pain receded into the back of his mind.
“Cut me loose!” he heard Penny shout. “I can help. At least let me defend myself!”
He knew he was close now and then he saw the forms of people ahead of him on the trail, a lot of people. They were heading along the path in the same direction he was, so most of their backs were to him. As he approached some of them turned and their emotionless stares brought the truth to his mind. Shiggreth!
Memories of that night over a year past, when he had fought a mob of them outside of Washbrook, came flooding into his head. Everything about them seemed familiar, from the strange unnatural movements to the expressionless faces. He drew his sword in a fluid motion and without slowing he drove through them, cutting aside anything that blocked his path.