Lions of Men

Chapter 8

The last of the Nordon riders had disappeared into the shrubbery by the time the men made it to the bottom of the cliffs. Rowen darted across the field, pushing his horse as fast as it could go. Adrenaline overtook the prince of Levanorah, blind desperation pressing him onward.

The horse whinnied and bucked in protest, but Rowen held on. When his men stopped and attempted to assist him, he commanded them to keep going and overtake the enemy. As they neared the woods, however, arrows came flying out of the trees.

"Ambush!" Gambian screamed. "Dodge the arrows and keep forth!"

Nordon archers, high in the treetops, fired off a relentless assault. Arrows whizzed by Daylan's head, and he stirred his beast to the left and to the right to make himself a harder target to hit. Thirty of his men, men he called brothers and friends, were struck down.

"Press forward," Gambian shouted. "We're almost-

An arrow struck Gambian's horse in the shoulder. The horse shrieked and rolled over on its side, but got back to its feet. Miraculously, Gambian managed to keep hold of the reins. One of the other men stopped to assist him and was struck down. Maddening rage overtook Gambian, and he mounted his horse and disappeared into the trees.

"Follow him," one of the men shouted, and the thirteen remaining soldiers galloped at full speed into the forest.

Rowen was about a hundred yards from the forest when his horse killed over. The momentum threw him over the beast, and he somersaulted into the dirt. Rowen tucked his head to his chest, and his shoulder and hip took the brunt of the fall. His head whiplashed as he bounced off the ground and landed face and chest first. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he was sure that the first impact had separated his right shoulder. Rowen finally skidded to a stop and waited for the pain to wash over him. The screams of his wife, the inaudible shouting of men, and the clashing of swords filled his ears. Syrah's cries pierced through his heart like a crossbow.

"Syrah?" he uttered, stretching his hand toward the sound of the clamor. "I'm coming."

Mustering what strength he could, the prince dug his feet into the earth and forced himself to roll on his side. He turned over and gazed into the eye of his horse as she breathed her last gasps of air and then lay still. Coughing profusely, Rowen struggled to his feet, drew his blade from its sheath, and limped to the woods. His right arm fell limp from the plunge, and blood rushed from his nose. He could tell that his jaw was broken.

Several times, the prince lost his balance, but he soldiered forward. Hearing the shrill cries of his wife wouldn't allow him to surrender to the groaning of his body. He was about twenty-five yards away when the screams finally stopped.

"Syrah!" he called out between coughing attacks. His entire body shuddered from pain.

No one answered.

"Gambian!"

Still no answer. Rowen called their names again and again until he was hoarse. He knew he wouldn't make it, but he would not fall. He would not die here. The Lionheart was determined to rescue his wife and the man he called his brother, Gambian from the clutches of his enemy. He thought of Rakurih his sister, and how he and Syrah conspired to arrange for Gambian to woo her. He was resolved to return him to her arms.

***

After what seemed like an eternity, Rowen finally made it to the woods. He began calling both Syrah's and Gambian's names anew, but still no answer. His eyes darted back and forth for any clues; for any signs of life. Not one soul spoke, not a sound was heard, save the insistent squawking of crows warning of a gruesome discovery.