She gathers the ten arrows and carries them over to her quiver where she places them with the ones already within it. Twenty two arrows are now in her quiver. She’d like more, but she made that mistake before. Grinning, she remembers a hunt with her father.
She had been so young and wanted to show him how well and how fast she could fletch an arrow. So she worked at it until her quiver had been jam packed with them. When she showed the quiver to her father, he gave her a smile and told her how good she was. Oh, she was simply aglow from his praise.
Then it happened. From out of the trees ahead of them, a wild boar had emerged and charged. She reached into her quiver for an arrow, but they were so tightly packed in there that it was hard to get one out. So she pulled hard on an arrow and suddenly, the entire contents of the quiver had come out, arrows flying in all directions.
Placing the single arrow left in her hand to her bow, she sighted on the charging boar just when an arrow from her father flew past and struck it in the neck, killing it. She can still remember the embarrassment at seeing thirty five arrows scattered about from where they had all been pulled from her quiver. The amused smile her father gave her at the time had brought her great embarrassment and shame. But later on, the experience became one of fondness and amusement at the little girl who had packed her quiver too tightly.
Oh how I wish you were here now, father. But that can never be, he was one of those who died when the Empire arrived that fateful day at Mountainside. Some of the men, her father included, tried to fight them off, but there were simply too many of them. If she hadn’t been on one of her solitary hunts up in the mountains at the time, she most likely would have died with him. There are times when she wishes she had.
Her mother she hardly remembers at all, having died when she was young. But from the stories her father told her, she must have been a strong woman. Had to have been to keep him in line as her father always liked to joke about.
She hears Jiron returning down the road and turns with a smile which quickly vanishes from her face. It wasn’t Jiron she heard but soldiers of the Empire. Three of them are coming toward her, their longswords out and ready. One of them says something to her in their language, most likely commanding her to ‘not do anything foolish’.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, “Jiron!” she quickly grabs her bow and an arrow out of her quiver. Backing up, she puts arrow to string and threatens the approaching men.
They come to a quick halt when the arrow points at them. Her quiver of arrows is now between her and them, all she has is the single arrow currently in her bow. She could easily kill one but the other two would be on her before she could do anything.
One of the men puts his sword away and holds his hands up in a non-threatening manner. His voice becomes soothingly as he begins inching his way closer to her.
Three? Is that all they sent from the forces by Kern? Can’t be, but there are no others behind them. A noise behind her causes her to quickly glance backward and she sees a soldier scramble over the edge of the cliff.
They’re climbing up from the valley below! What could possibly have forced them to dare such a treacherous climb?
Other men can be seen on the top of the ridge as well, moving toward where she holds the three men at bay. She glances from the three men then to the others approaching. Four others are on their way toward the standoff.
Suddenly from behind the three men, a fast moving shape comes out of the forest, and light glints off of a blade in each hand as Jiron stabs two of the men in the back, severing their spinal columns.
She lets fly her arrow and takes the lead soldier who had been advancing upon her square in the chest. The man flies backward from the force of the arrow and lands atop the other two men, dying on the ground.
“See to James!” Jiron cries as he moves to attack the others advancing upon them from the edge of the cliff.
She sees him, a man with two knives, facing off against four men with swords. Such courage! Moving quickly, she reaches the campsite and her quiver of arrows. Taking up position next to the still unconscious James, she slings her quiver across her back and puts arrow to string.
To her surprise, when she turns to aim at the men Jiron is fighting, one of his attackers is already lying still on the ground. Lining up another of his attackers, she releases her arrow and strikes him in the chest, spinning him around. Before he even falls to the ground, she has another arrow knocked and released, taking out another man.
Left with only one opponent, Jiron launches into a series of lightning fast attacks which the soldier is ill equipped to defend against. As his knives dance, blood starts flowing from many wounds until he manages to sink his blade into the soldier’s chest. Kicking out with his foot, he knocks the man off his knife then quickly turns and surveys the area.
A cry by the cliff edge draws his attention as an arrow strikes a man who just gained the top and knocks him backward over the side. His screams gradually diminish as he plummets to the ground far below.
“Get the horses!” he hollers to Aleya as he moves to James. Kneeling down next to him, he shakes him and yells, “James! Wake up!”
James’ eyes flash open and he sits up. Pain erupts in his forehead and he holds his head in his hands to quell the pain. He glances to Jiron through eyes barely open from the pain and asks, “What’s going on?”
Pointing to the cliff edge, he replies, “They’re coming up the side of the cliff. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Another cry is heard from a man with an arrow protruding from his left shoulder. The pain from the wound isn’t even slowing him down. The soldier continues toward them as Aleya lets fly another arrow, this time hitting him square in the chest, dropping him to the ground just as two more clear the cliff’s edge.
Slinging her bow behind her, she races over to the horses, quickly unties them and leads them back to where Jiron and James are waiting. Taking up her bow again, she starts picking off the men as they clear the top.
As Jiron helps James into the saddle he asks him, “How do you feel?”
“Like, can I do magic?” he asks back.
Jiron nods his head.
“Wouldn’t want to,” he says. Then he glances back to the edge of the cliff and sees three more men clear the top. More are coming over than Aleya can pick off. “But can if I must.”
Once he’s in the saddle, Jiron mounts up and hollers over to Aleya who had just killed another soldier, “Time to go!”
Quickly slinging the bow across her back, she grabs the saddle and in one fluid motion settles into the saddle. The quiver slung next to her bow has been greatly depleted during the assault. Only half a dozen arrows remain.
Kicking their horses into a gallop, they race off down the trail. Behind them, more and more men continue reaching the top. Jiron glances back just before they disappear in the trees and counts over two score men have already made it to the top, their numbers steadily increasing.
They slow the horses down after putting some distance between them and the soldiers behind them. The trail they’re on is hardly more than a game trail, at one time it looks like this may have been a roadway leading from the watchtower overlooking the valley to somewhere near where the Fortress of Kern now lies.
“That was some shooting,” praises Jiron. “You’re good.”
“Thanks,” replies Aleya. “My father was a good teacher with the bow. He always said ‘Be fast, but shoot true. Speed without accuracy is fatal.’”
“True words,” nods Jiron.
The trail continues to wind down the mountain as it switchbacks first one direction, then the other. James breaks the silence and asks, “How long was I out?”
“Since early last night,” replies Jiron. “I would’ve let you rest longer, but circumstances dictated otherwise.”