A sudden sense of alarm stole over Gawain, and he paused, scanning the landscape. The trail was bearing north, parallel with the hills. He frowned, and his jaw clenched. They were heading straight for the trench that had barred their progress during the night, the trench that had not been shown on Sarek's map. He increased his pace, his features set grimly.
An hour later, the sound of a horse whinnying stopped Gawain dead in his tracks. Frantic, he clambered up a mound of slag-rock, and froze. Three of Morloch's black riders sat on horseback, staring at the trench, their heads swivelling left and right, eyeing the length of it. Gawain smiled grimly, and slipped an arrow from his quiver. Then he paused, and understanding stole over him, and with it a deeper respect for his comrades. To slay the black riders here in the Barak-nor would be folly. The death-blasts of liberated aquamire would be seen, and probably heard, by the watchmen atop the rim of the enemy stronghold. He eased the arrow back into its quiver, and watched.
The riders were clearly confused. The tracks left by muffled hooves had led in this direction, and though the heavier rain had washed almost all traces away, the hunted must have come this way. Yet there was no sign of the prey. One of the black riders backed his horse away from the edge of the trench, and the horse was protesting. Gawain held his breath. The trench could be jumped, but to have done so in darkness when they had stumbled across it during the night would have been madness. In daylight, it would be a brave deed. The black rider continued backing his skittish horse, his intention clear. The other two riders simply sat in their saddles, looking for another means of crossing the gap, or perhaps looking for any spoor on the ground which might indicate that the prey had gone around the obstacle.
The skittish horse whinnied again, fighting the bit, and the rider spurred it mercilessly, forcing it into a headlong charge towards the trench. It ran, desperately, and launched itself into the air. But the weight of the black rider's armour was too much for it. Gawain watched aghast as the poor beast slammed into the trench wall on the far side, unseating the rider who flailed and clutched at the edge before slipping from view and crashing into its depths, following the stricken animal.
The two remaining riders eased forward and gazed down at their comrade, and then turned away. Gawain pressed himself as flat into the slag-rock as he could, watching as the two surviving riders abandoned their comrade, and turned their horses west, ambling along the edge of the trench, clearly intending to go around its distant end. Gawain smiled again. When the riders were lost from view, he slithered down the heap of slag-rock, and loped off to the east, and the quicker route around the trench.
Hours later, tired and thirsty, Gawain heard the creak of a bow, and threw himself to the spiteful ground. Then he heard a familiar snuffle from behind a jagged heap of glazed rock, and when he stood he found himself staring at Elayeen, and the shaft levelled at his chest. Instantly she lowered her bow, and relaxed the string, and her tired eyes brimmed. Gawain watched as the ground seemed to move around her, and one by one his friends appeared from beneath their slag-covered blankets.
He walked across to them, seeing the relief in all their faces. "Not bad." He admitted. "Not bad at all.” Then he stared at Elayeen, and smiled. "You had me, my Lady."
She smiled back, and sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "Mithroth…" she began, but then simply gazed at him.
Sarek offered a waterskin, and Gawain drank deeply.
"Longsword," Allazar whispered, "There are black riders…"
"Two. One is trapped in the trench. The others headed west to go around it."
"Ah."
"There is no time for talk, or rest. The riders will pick up the trail sooner or later, and we must be clear of this blasted land before we can do anything about them."
Tired heads nodded, eyes red-rimmed with exhaustion, and they began rolling their blankets in readiness to ride once more. Gawain corked the waterskin, and then smiled as a sudden wave of relief washed his eyes blue. On a sudden impulse, he reached out, and slipped his hand around the back of Elayeen's neck, drawing her to him.
"You had me, my Lady." He said softly, his voice rich with a mixture of surprise, and pride. He kissed her tenderly on the lips, and then drew back.
Elayeen smiled up at him, blinked, and then stooped to pick up her blanket. Moments later they were all in the saddle, and though bone-weary, pressed on through the devastation that was the Barak-nor, keenly aware that a dark enemy pursued them still.
When night fell the acrid and vile wound that was the Barak-nor gave way to softer Threlland earth, and the rain finally stopped. Gawain dismounted and ripped the muffling from Gwyn's hooves before climbing wearily back into the saddle. The others followed suit, and though muscles ached and protested, none voiced their discomfort as Gawain urged them on and around the point that marked Threlland's north-eastern tip. Still he pressed on, for another two hours, until they reached their former campsite, and Gawain reined in.
"We rest here. If the black riders pursue us still, they may safely be despatched without fear of their death-blasts being noted by the enemy."
In silence, weary legs led wearier horses higher up the slope, tethered them, and then sopping wet bedrolls were dumped on soft Threlland soil. Gawain cut another lump of frak from the cake in his saddlebag, and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he cut a strip, and ate, chewing gratefully as the spiced and smoky flavour erupted in his mouth.
"Longsword?" Allazar whispered.
"Aye."
"We…when I saw the riders approaching…"
"My brother," Rak sighed, settling on his blankets, "It was our decision to abandon you, not the wizard's."
Gawain sat next to Elayeen, and offered her a slice of frak. She took it hesitantly, and then slipped her arm through his.
"We could not leave Gwyn." Allazar sighed.
"You made a wise decision." Gawain assured them. "And you all did well. Now sleep. Gwyn and I shall take first watch."
"I shall take second." Sarek announced quietly, laying down, and in moments his breathing told he was asleep.
"I the third." Valin sighed, and he and Meeya wrapped themselves together, and slept.
"Mithroth?" Elayeen whispered.
"My Lady?"
She laid her head on his shoulder. "The wizard did well today. Had he not sighted the riders so far off, we might not have evaded them."
"You all did well."
"Lord Rak is gracious, and would shield me from your ire. It was I who proposed we abandon you. "
"You?"
He felt her slight nod through the arrowsilk cloak. "The others were for hiding nearby. I said that we must leave you. That it was important for all the lands that we carry news of the enemy to them."
"You would sacrifice me, then, and thus yourself?" Gawain whispered.
Again she nodded. "I knew you would find us. Find me. Rak agreed, and then the others. Meeya wanted to stay, to aid you. And then Valin, and Allazar, and Sarek too. But I commanded all to abandon you."
Gawain sighed, and turned slightly to face her, gently tilting her head so he could see her eyes. Then he reached into her cloak, and as she caught her breath, he smiled and withdrew the darkening cloth tucked into her belt.