The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Three

An arrow.

Where there was one arrow, there would certainly be more. A skilled archer could let quite a few arrows loose.

A skilled archer wouldn't attack a group of three people, no matter how distracted they were, without allies to back them up.

Pendaer moved first. Once they had left Dorssur, he had insisted on keeping his bow and quiver on him at all times and finally it came in handy. He had his bow in his hands in an instant and getting an arrow into position didn't take much longer than that. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the assailant up above the waterfall, where the arrow had come from, but nothing moved in the tall grass.

Heart racing, Tracou held his wand in one hand and grabbed Mirthal's wrist in the other, tugging his arm downward to get him to crouch beside him. He should erect a barrier, but that area of magic was Tracou's weakest. Many dezmek could create and hold a single wall or even a dome of magic that could deflect anything thrown its way, but Tracou struggled. A wall would take all of his focus and what if someone came up behind them? Worthless.

As Pendaer searched for the archer at the top of the cliff, a man appeared, having hidden behind their wagon, and charged at Pendaer. Tracou shouted Pendaer's name and raised his wand to render the attacker immobile. But Pendaer darted away from the man even before Tracou's magic had any effect on him. An arrow whizzed through the spot Pendaer had occupied. The man level with them toppled to the ground as Pendaer took aim at the cliff and shot an arrow. It flew into a tree with a thunk Tracou couldn't hear.

More men appeared, totaling four but there could be more hidden. There could always be more. The number seemed small, even considering the fact that there were only three people they were attacking. They were all humans wearing the same kind of armor Tracou had seen in Dorssur. They had swords at their hips, too. Normally, Tracou would have assumed that this attack would have been orchestrated by bandits, but if these were bandits they were bandits employed by the King of Winlea... or, rather, Yash. Perhaps, unlike the citizens at the gate of Dorssur, they felt that they didn't need numbers because their targets were two elves and a dezmek, only one of which even carried a weapon. Magic, inexplicably, must not have frightened them.

These men were oddly young. The armor they wore fit poorly. If the Yash had wanted results, he should have sent at least one man with some experience fighting. Then again, even with their escape, maybe Yash wanted to toy with them.

Almost on reflex, Tracou immobilized every human he could see. This magic came much easier to him than barriers did and he could hold a great deal of people at one time had he wanted. Tracou had effectively neutered the threat on the ground, but the archer above still roamed free.

Pendaer shot arrow after arrow up at the hidden archer. It didn't seem like he hit anything to Tracou. Soon, he stopped, jaw still clenched.

"Did you get him?!"

"No! He... He must have fled!"

Skeptical, Tracou looked up at the cliff, but he couldn't see anyone either.

Beside him, Mirthal placed a hand over the one Tracou still had wrapped around his wrist. Unbeknownst to Tracou, he had been gripping his wrist as though he was trying to choke it to death. Of course, coming from a dezmek, it hadn't quite been a death grip. Tracou pulled his hand away with a grimace.

Mirthal stared at the ground, his normally jovial face devoid of any discernible emotion. For a time, he stared down at his hands. He mumbled something, but Tracou couldn't understand it.

As though Mirthal had forgotten all about the archer still at large, he approached one of the paralyzed bodies of the attackers.

"Mirthal! What are you doing?!" Tracou called, voice climbing higher with each word.