Liqaria, 8th of Eighthmoon 3045
Hawk heard nothing the others shouted after him, if they shouted. He could only just make out Ren’i’s flaming hair through the snowstorm and made towards it, heart hammering in his chest.
The bucking horse had gone the same way as Ren’i, leaving a long trail after itself. The dead soldier’s boot had finally come loose from the stirrup and they were lying face down in the snow. Hawk ran, ran, ran, felt the cold air tearing at his lungs with each breath, but Ren’i was coming closer all the time. He could see the black-armoured Liqaris ahead of him, heard the whickering of the horse…
Hawk’s hands moved as though on instinct. He didn’t even slow down as he pulled an arrow from the quiver and drew the bow. The first arrow shot in an arch towards the Liqaris, one of whom had managed to catch the horse and was trying to mount. The arrow sank in the snow, some meters from the soldiers. The second arrow hit one of them directly behind the knee, eliciting loud curses from them. Hawk saw Ren’i glance over his shoulder, eyes widening with surprise.
The rampaging horse got even more agitated as the soldier pulled at the reins and forced themselves in the saddle. The horse’s flanks were covered in froth. The soldier sank their spurs in its sides just as a third arrow sank in the nape of the other soldier’s neck, who collapsed in the snow. They did not attempt to get up again.
The horse reared on its hindlegs once, then shot off like a cannonball, eyes rolling around wildly. The rider fought tooth and nail to stay mounted as the horse switched to an uneven canter.
Hawk ran past Ren’i and tugged his arrows off the dead soldier. His arrows had dwindled alarmingly in the assault, and he’d need every single one he had left, come what may.
Ren’i was panting when he caught up with Hawk. ”We’ve got to stop them.”
Hawk merely nodded in reply and they took off after the soldier, as fast as their feet would carry them. Though the horse and its rider had a headstart, the horse was weary and frightened, and the snow did nothing to ease its passage. Sooner or later it would have to slow down – with how far the camp was the horse would not make the whole journey at a run.
Ren’i felt something stinging at his side, legs begging for mercy, but he didn’t allow himself to slow down, though he could barely breathe as he ran. Hawk shot past him, and Ren’i could only stare at him. The name of all eight gods, could he run! Akheri resilience was a legend even in the north, but Ren’i had never seen any proof of it with his own eyes. Hawk lengthened his stride and left Ren’i far behind, feet flying at a pace that Ren’i could not even hope to match.
The horse had trampled through drifts like a natural disaster, leaving deep tracks after itself. Hawk saw a dark shape that was the rider through the flurry, coming closer with every second. The Liqari rider was clearly having trouble with their steed, and at last Hawk could tell why. The horse had slowed into a jerky trot, head hanging from exhaustion, and no amount of yelling or kicking could force the poor animal to a gallop again. Hawk felt bile rising into his mouth once he saw the horse’s flanks bleeding; it no longer had the energy to protest, though the pain must have been agonising. Hawk drew the bow and sent an arrow flying, hands shaking with rage.
The soldier swore loudly as the horse came to a sudden halt. The arrow passed them by at a distance and they glanced over their shoulder, at last noticing the pursuer. They dismounted with a loud clang and pulled their shield up when they saw Hawk aiming again.
Ren’i felt a sudden shiver in his head that momentarily blurred his vision. The sensation rivalled the spell Vannuil and Qel had cast on him. The pain dropped him on his knees, and he crawled back up laboriously, eyes watering from pain.
He did not need the soldier’s scornful sneer to know that the call for aid had been heard; Ren’i felt the presence of approaching Liqaris in his consciousness.
”Save your arrows, Hawk! We’re getting company!”
Hawk’s expression darkened. He stopped a safe distance and drew the bow, but did not shoot.
Ren’i bared his teeth as he rushed at the soldier, sword held high. The Liqari blocked his strike effortlessly. The horse limped away from them and the clanging of metal. Ren’i was tired, but so was the Liqari, and their attacks became more and more desperate by the minute. Ren’i didn’t allow them a moment to breathe, and finally the soldier faltered under the force of his attack. Ren’i rushed forwards and rammed the sword in the soldier’s armpit. The Liqari was dead before they hit the ground.
The beaten horse lifted its head upon hearing the whinnying of another approaching horse. The beating of hooves was swallowed by the snow and the howling wind. Ren’i pulled off his sword, took the shield the soldier had dropped, and backed away. Shivers went down his back as the Liqaris started yelling upon seeing them and their dead comrade, but Ren’i greeted them with a defiant glare. He gathered his ashay, disregarding the headache that pounded against the frontal bone, and sent his thoughts out like an invitation.
’Come at me, if you dare.’
He raised the sword and jumped out of the way when the first hail of arrows came arching towards them.
Hawk was already in motion when six riders arrived. He took down one of the horses and it collapsed underneath its rider, arrow sinking deep in its breast. Another horse collided with it and staggered, nearly throwing off its rider.
The horseless rider rolled back up, pulled out their sword and dashed towards Ren’i, who was already prepared for the assault. The Liqaris were skilled soldiers, but it quickly dawned on Hawk that though the same demonic blood burned in their veins, they were no match for their Kishan cousins in battle. Had they faced a Kishan patrol of the same capacity, the outcome would have been clear right from the start. Without his armour or helmet Ren’i’s movements were deceptively fast, ginger hair flying in the wind like a war banner. His strikes were merciless, giving his enemy no time to consider the next move; he kept them on the defensive, raining down attack after attack. The Liqaris could do nothing but try to keep up and parry him.
Had Hawk seen the same two months ago the sight would have chilled him to the bone. The sheer brutal force with which Ren’i forced his enemy to back down seemed to electrify the air. His sword left a metallic shriek as it sunk straight through the soldier’s cuirass with such force that the metal bent inwards.
Hawk had started running again, trying to maintain enough distance between himself and the Liqari bowmen. He cursed his luck. Cavalry units tended to prefer shortbows, since a bowman on horseback generally had no need to worry about their reach as much as infantry soldiers would. The patrolling Liqaris did not obey this rule: three of them were carrying longbows. Hawk’s face contorted and he sped towards the approaching soldiers, bow drawn. The soldier aiming at him missed their mark as he suddenly rushed straight at them. They had no time to lower the bow before Hawk’s arrow had already sunk under their arm. The Liqari’s face was still petrified with surprise as they tumbled off the saddle, straight under the hooves of the horse behind their own.
The battle turned into chaos within seconds as the riders surrounded them. One of the soldiers flew over the neck of their steed as it tripped over the body that had fallen in front of it; another horse reared as Hawk’s arrow whizzed past its head and ricocheted off the rider’s greaves. Ren’i saw his chance and grabbed the rider’s cloak, pulling them down. Hawk drew his bow again, gritting his teeth as his arms complained from exhaustion. The arrow missed its mark by mere centimetres.
”The horses, Hawk, take down their horses!” Ren’i roared. ”Leave the soldiers to me!”
Hawk muttered curses as he reached for another arrow. There were only five left.
Ren’i’s hands were a blur as he fought between two Liqaris, hacking and slashing so fast that the soldiers had their hands full just trying to keep him at bay, even between the two of them. He seemed to move on pure instinct. The sword’s protective spell sung like adrenaline in his blood, the slash one of the soldiers targeted at his side rendered to nothing but distant throbbing as the blade cut skin. The blood leaking from the corner of Ren’i’s mouth dyed his teeth red as he smiled.
The ground shook when one of the horses fell, taking its rider with it, but not before they’d managed to fire their last arrow. Hawk jolted as the arrowhead sunk into his thigh, dropping him on his knees. He attempted to pull it out. The pain that shot down his leg was so overwhelming that he gagged.
As the billowing snow raised by the fallen horse evaporated Ren’i walked away from two corpses, the snow red around them. The last living Liqari was still mounted, their back towards Ren’i. Ren’i started sprinting as he saw them drawing their bow. Fear gripped him for the second time that night, fear that he would not make it in time. The heart racing in his chest felt ready to burst. Through the swirling snow he saw a dark, crouching figure that the soldier was aiming at.
Ren’i did not think and instead jumped at the first thing that occurred to him. He threw his sword at the horse, shouting from the bottom of his lungs.
Hawk rolled out of the arrow’s way. It hit the ground precisely where he’d just stood moments ago.
Ren’i’s yell was followed by the screaming of the horse as the sword slammed against its hocks. The soldier dropped their bow as they clung to the reins with both hands, trying with all their might to keep the frightened animal under control. Hawk forced himself back up, or at least tried to. The wounded leg merely shook under his weight; the arrow shaft had splintered as he’d evaded the attack, irritating the wound further. With trembling hands he drew the bow, aimed, and fired. The arrow sunk in the Liqari’s neck, and Hawk knew they were dead even before hitting the ground.
Ren’i staggered through the snow towards Hawk, breathing hard. He did not hide his relief upon finding him alive.
”Are you all right?” Ren’i managed between intakes of air.
”Could ask you the same,” Hawk pointed out, panting almost as hard as Ren’i and eyeing the cut on his side. The fur had turned crimson around the wound, new blood oozing from it with each breath.
”Stings like hell, but it’ll heal.” Ren’i threw away the shield and crouched down next to Hawk. He started upon seeing the broken arrow shaft still sticking out of Hawk’s thigh. ”That, however… That needs to be pulled out at once.”
”Go ahead. I couldn’t do it myself.”
Ren’i took a deep breath, collecting himself mentally. ”Sit down. The less you move, the better the outcome.”
The veins at the back of Ren’i’s hand bulged as he took a firm grip on the broken shaft after Hawk sat down. Hawk thought he understood where the nickname Ironfist had come from; Ren’i had large and quite obviously strong hands, even for a soldier. It wasn’t hard to believe he might have crushed rocks with his bare hands.
Ren’i shot him a questioning look, and Hawk nodded.
Hawk’s eyes squeezed shut and he forced himself to breathe calmly, just like Onniar had taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The pain still came as a shock. With one hand Ren’i pressed down his thigh and forced him to hold it straight, while yanking the arrow out with the other in one swift movement. Hawk roared as the arrow came loose, feeling himself tremble all over.
”It’s all right, it’s over already,” Ren’i said and tossed the arrow in the snow. His brows furrowed as he investigated the wound. The arrowhead had caused nearly as much harm coming out as it had going in, and the wound had started bleeding again. ”Don’t move. It needs to be covered with something or you’ll get a frostbite.”
Hawk didn’t try to talk. He followed Ren’i with his gaze as he wiped his sword clean with the cloak of a fallen Liqari, then tore off the cloak from another. Ren’i ripped the cloak into strips of cloth and returned to Hawk. He made the strips into tourniquets, wrapping them above and below the wound.
”Are there more coming?” Hawk asked while Ren’i wrapped the remaining cloth around the wound to shield it from the cold.
”Doubt it, unless they’re masking their presence, like Linnee and Sava…” Ren’i could not finish the sentence. Worry clutched at his throat, but he did not dare send out his thoughts to check if the others had made it out of there. Were there more Liqaris nearby they might sense his presence and follow its trail straight to them. Ren’i extended his hand to Hawk. ”This is the best I can manage. Try and stand up.”
Hawk could tell at once that something was wrong. His right leg would not support his weight, and it was only Ren’i’s aid that prevented him from tumbling back down in the snow. The nausea worsened every time he tried to put his foot down. Hawk swore quietly, gripping Ren’i’s arm convulsively.
”I can’t walk,” he stated, breathing heavily as though he’d run a mile.
Ren’i thought, his expression solemn. ”Do you think you could stand unassisted for a moment?”
”Maybe.” He put his foot down gingerly and forced himself to breathe until the worst of the pain eased. He let go of Ren’i. The leg trembled, but he remained upright, despite feeling shaky. ”Well, at least for a little while.”
”Good. I’ll be right back.”
”What are you planning?”
Ren’i didn’t respond. He stowed the sword back in its scabbard and headed back towards the fallen Liqaris. He pulled out every unbroken arrow of akheri make that he could find, then kicked snow over the bodies and the pools of blood. He tried approaching the two horses that were hovering near their former masters, but they dashed away when he got too close. They joined the others that had retreated further from them, snorting and tossing their heads. After chasing them for some time Ren’i sighed and gave up.
He returned to Hawk and grabbed the fallen bow and quiver, offering them to Hawk. Hawk stared at him for a long while, making no attempt to retrieve his equipment.
”You know very well that I can’t walk with this leg,” he said.
”All the better, then, that there’s two of us.”
”We’ll never catch up to the others together. You’ve still got a chance if you leave me.”
Ren’i sighed again and pulled the bow and the quiver over his shoulder, stuffing the arrows he’d collected back in the quiver. He recognised the mulish look in Hawk’s eyes a little too well already and knew there was no point in arguing. He stepped closer, half-forced Hawk’s arm around his shoulders despite Hawk protests, and said, ”lean on me. I can take your weight.”
”Ren’i—”
He took a step forward, leaving Hawk no other choice but to limp along. It took some time for them to find the rhythm, but the arm around Hawk’s waist ensured he couldn’t fall over. Ren’i kept his eyes firmly on the road, face contorted from concentration, and did not so much as glance at Hawk.
Their former camp was empty once they made it back. Snow had partially covered their old tracks and more kept falling down constantly. The Liqari bodies were gone, as were most signs of combat, and Hawk let out a sigh of relief. The Liqaris would have one hell of a job trying to locate at least one of their lost patrols when they finally headed out to look for them.
One of the tents was still standing as they’d left it, partially buried under freshly fallen snow.
”Wait here,” Ren’i said and left Hawk to lean against the one tree trunk in the camp. It was barely his height and offered no shelter whatsoever from the gusts, but it was enough to help him remain upright.
Ren’i crouched down at the mouth of the tent and brushed the fly sheet aside. There were two rucksacks inside – he recognised his own from the soot stains –, both of them still holding whatever belongings they hadn’t unpacked when lying down to rest. Had the others left them behind because they believed in their chances or because they hadn’t managed to carry more, that Ren’i did not even want to think about. He disassembled the tent, then tied the canvas and the poles to his rucksack to the best of his ability.
Hawk was surveying the environment, frowning. The only sign of the others were their somewhat covered footprints in the snow, leading away from where Hawk and Ren’i had just come from.
”They went that way,” Hawk said, pointing. He did not resist as Ren’i handed the other rucksack to him. Ren’i resembled a packmule with his overstuffed bag, quiver and bow on his back, but Hawk decided not to mention it.
”We’ve our heading, then.”
It was painfully slow going. Hawk’s hearing was strained to the extreme as he tried to listen for approaching footfalls or horses, but the only sounds were that of the humming wind and their own laboured breathing. Neither of them spoke. The fear that they – or the others – might have headed the wrong way in the blizzard was too real to be voiced, though Hawk was certain Ren’i was thinking about it just as he was.
Ren’i’s face was covered in trails of dirt and sweat, and Hawk felt his arms shaking from the extertion, but Ren’i did not let go, did not utter a single word of complaint. Hawk swallowed down his own pain and focused only on the movement. Lean, move, breathe, lean, move, breathe. It repeated in his mind like a mantra and kept him awake.
It felt as if they’d been going for hours when the sky began to lighten. Hawk squinted. It was not his imagination: through the flurry he could only just make out the large, dark shapes rising towards the sky. Trees.
”Ren’i,” he said, voice breaking. ”We found the forest.”
Ren’i breathed. ”Thank the Eight.”
All tracks left by the others had vanished, and there was no sign anywhere below the trees that anyone had been that way. There was a new spring to Ren’i’s steps regardless in the shelter of the woods. They paused to catch their breath beneath large spruces, out of the wind.
”I don’t think we’ve been in this part of the woods before,” Hawk said when his breathing had eased.
”The river shouldn’t be far off. Once we find it, I’ll know where we are.”
Hawk did not know how Ren’i could tell one place from another. Everything looked the same underneath the snow, and the terrain did not vary enough for him to distinguish clear landmarks, but Ren’i lead them onwards with confidence. It was already light out when Hawk heard the sound of running water and knew that Ren’i had been right.
Here, the river flowed wider and stronger than in the part of the woods where they’d made camp two days ago. The spruces grew tall and fluffy, the long boughs only letting in a small amount of daylight. Icicles and long tufts of beard lichen hung from the branches. Ren’i listened to the sounds of the waking woodlands and finally felt himself calming down. The other side of the river was patterned with fresh hoof prints, and he could make out the rustling of mountain hares among the undergrowth. As long as the animals were calm, they had no reason to worry about Liqaris.
They followed the river upstream where the forest grew thicker and thicker all the time, and occasionally there was no snow on the ground at all. Their pace had slowed to a crawl: Hawk had no energy left but to let Ren’i drag him forward, head hanging from exhaustion. Ren’i’s fumbling steps carried them forth, and Hawk could tell from the erratic breathing by his ear that Ren’i could not make it much further. He’d opened his mouth to speak just as Ren’i came to a halt.
”Well. I guess our journey ends here,” he said, gaze somewhere high up.
Hawk straightened. They stood at the foot of a low clay bank, over which the river came flowing with an almighty rushing. The waterfall was scarcely two meters tall, and there were rocks and thick roots jutting out of the bank, but neither of them was in any condition to try to scale it.
”Our old camp was somewhere up there, I think,” Ren’i mused. ”Well, the bank makes for a good wind breaker. Let’s stay here and rest.”
Hawk caught his breath as Ren’i unpacked his rucksack and pulled out the tent pieces. Ren’i assembled a canopy with the poles and the canvas just below the bank, broke off thick branches from a nearby spruce, and spread them on the ground for flooring. The fly sheet he turned into a mat to sit on. Hawk offered no resistance as Ren’i helped him sit down under the canopy. His leg throbbed once more from the movement.
”Hawk?” Ren’i’s voice was heavy with worry.
Hawk breathed slowly between gritted teeth. He felt the world spinning around himself nauseatingly and leaned against the bank, eyes shut. Ren’i gripped his shoulder.
”Stay awake. I’ll get a fire going and then I’ll take a look at the wound, okay?” He didn’t let go until Hawk nodded.
Ren’i tore down the driest branches he could find from the closest trees and wilted bushes. It took a frustratingly long time to get a fire started. Without Linnee and Sava’s talents all he had at his disposal were a damp box of matches, the kindling bundled inside a change of clothes, and his own shaking hands. He didn’t dare let Hawk out of his sight for a moment and kept glancing at him constantly, making sure that he was still awake.
Ren’i wanted to swear out loud as he went over their equipment. All useful things were with the others, including their last provisions, all except… His hands brushed against something cold, something metallic. Ren’i’s expression brightened as he pulled out a kettle from Hawk’s backpack. It was old and banged up, yes, but it was better than nothing. He filled the kettle with water from the river and hung it from a gnarled branch above the fire.
”Oi, Hawk,” Ren’i said when steam started rising from the kettle. He shook Hawk until he opened his eyes. ”I’ll clean the wound and exchange the wrappings next.”
Hawk fixed him a long, hard look and said, ”what about your own?”
”Eh, never you mind that. It doesn’t hurt.” Ren’i tried to smile, but Hawk’s sceptical look told him clear as daylight that Hawk did not believe a word he’d just said. ”Okay, fine, it aches like hell, but I don’t think the cut’s that deep.”
Hawk’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing more.
The strip of cloak that Ren’i had wrapped around the wound was rock hard from the cold and the dried blood. He unattached it as gently as he could without ripping the wound open again. It looked just as bad as before, but the bleeding had stopped. The kettle, fresh off the fire, stood in the snow, cooling down. Ren’i brought it closer, lifted the lid and tried the water with his finger gingerly.
”It’s not boiling, but I doubt you’re going to enjoy this much,” he told Hawk.
”Probably not,” Hawk agreed. His voice was weak with weariness, hardly more than a whisper. ”Go ahead.”
He made no sound as Ren’i poured hot water on the wound and cleaned it carefully with the cleanest rag he’d found in his backpack. Fresh blood and fluids oozed from the wound, but it did not start bleeding again. He dug out the salve he’d received from Hawk and spread some around the wound with his fingertips.
”Sorry if this hurts,” Ren’i said.
The salve stung on broken skin, but Ren’i’s hands were surprisingly gentle to be the hands of a soldier, Hawk thought.
”Don’t use it all.” Hawk let out a sigh when he felt the cooling effect kick in.
”I won’t, I won’t.”
With the wound rewrapped Ren’i took off his coat. Blood had plastered leather and fur straight to his skin, and ripping them off hurt more than he’d anticipated. The Liqari sword had left a long, thin gash down his left side and dyed the pale furs a rusty red. He felt awkward pulling off his undershirt, just as bloodstained as the coat, over his head. Hawk kept an unblinking vigil the entire time it took for Ren’i to clean the wound and apply salve on it, and refused to avert his gaze until Ren’i had pulled on a clean shirt.
”You sure you don’t need to wrap it?” he asked as Ren’i pulled his coat back on.
”It had already closed. I heal faster than you do, remember?”
Hawk nodded. ”I remember. Ashay.”
”Precisely. Ashay.” Ren’i patted his side and regretted it at once. Demonic blood or not, it was still sore to the touch.
Judging by the amount of light it was already afternoon. Ren’i went over their bags once more, then a third time, until he was finally forced to accept that they had nothing to eat. Hawk had been dozing off throughout the day, waking with a start every now and then to this or that sound, or to Ren’i poking him. His exhaustion worried Ren’i more than he dared to admit, but rest had returned some of the usual colour onto Hawk’s visage.
Hawk felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier between the warmth of the fire and the crackling of flames. He crossed his arms, tugged the coat more firmly around himself, and within minutes fell into a slumber so deep that he did not even dream.