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CHAPTER 24 – THE MISSION
Winded by the force of the bolt, Tress had managed to pull her cloak around herself as she fell backwards, instantly vanishing from sight and smothering her face in the rough fibres of her cloak. Fighting for breath, she had then painfully crawled her way over the twenty paces across the yard, some how managing to avoid the last of the panicked horses. It was pure adrenaline that had carried her the entire distance. A hoof from one of the last of the crazed horses had just missed her head before she ended up to the left of the mine-shaft entrance. Ever thoughtful of her mission she had managed to retrieve the dropped liquid vial along the way. Now that she was clear of the kill zone, she propped her back against a rock-face to gain a better view, the true agony of her chest wound now brought her to tears. The imbedded crossbow bolt was bleeding profusely, but luckily most of the blood had stayed within the confines of her cloak soaking into the inside weave rather than giving away her position by marking the floor. She knew that any further movement would run the risk of leaving a crimson trail of blood which would have them homing in on her in seconds, but then she was in no state to move anywhere with the feathered bolt still jutted from her chest. Her ridged leather armour had absorbed some of the impact but it was no match for the iron-tipped point that had punched its way several inches into her chest; she knew it was bad and from the location and pain it was definitely life-threatening. Now she lay on her side fighting for breath, her face contorted and wincing against the pain. Her breathing became heavier as her lungs begun to fill with blood, her throat tensed and strained towards the wound in her struggle to breathe. She had seen sucking chest wounds several times before and she knew all to well what would be necessary to have a chance at survival. She slowly drew her stiletto dagger and begun to trace her fingers up her side under her armour, then cutting the side-straps that secured her leather breastplate. She stopped unintentionally, her grip loosened on her dagger as her head spun; fighting for consciousness she needed to move quickly, pulling her armour aside and pressing her fingers along the side of her breast, searching desperately for the space between her ribs to insert the dagger’s tip. She looked back up at the hectic courtyard and the solders sweeping the area for her. Strangely the dark-robed acolytes were more concerned with their original task of preparing the transport spell to remove the crystal rather than with hunting her, but she knew that would change soon. Tress gritted her teeth and pushed the blade an inch into her side. The pain of the dagger was nothing compared to the sudden relief she felt, as her breathing seemed to stabilise. As she withdrew the dagger she passed out.
The dark-robed acolytes were infuriated that an enemy had approached so close to their prized crystal unnoticed and took out their anger on the nearest group of Aristrian solders, screaming at them to do their jobs properly. How had these fools let her get so close to their prize and if the crossbow man had killed his target why could they not find her body? Was she alone? They had no time to debate these issues, their master demanded his crystal now and failure would mean a painful and slow death at best. The remaining acolytes gathered together and continued with their mission, the ritual of transport. With a further hour of undisturbed preparation they could move on to the final phase of the spell. Several diamonds glistened in the ground surrounding the great stone. Within the Moomran crystal, many colours swirled around shimmering almost rainbow-like as the streams of light from the courtyard were reflected back out from deep within the crystal. The spell had begun.
Tress groggily came around, the pain was still intense but at least she could draw some breath now, luckily the scouting troops had not come close to her location, well not whilst she had been conscious. She assessed her situation and options again – it was desperate. She knew that she still had one flask of Dragon’s Thunder left and could perhaps use this and try for the crystal again, but she also knew that, with her wound, next time there would be no escape. She clutched the vial of mystic acid in her hand. Was the crystal really worth losing her life over? Did she really have anything to live for, or should she go for it?
The dark figures were on a tight schedule and had begun their final ritual, gathered around the great crystal regardless of the hidden threat that may still exist to them. Tress could not let them finish their task but she was unsure whether she even had the strength left to throw the vial and hit the crystal from this distance, especially hindered by her wound. Instead of wasting the acid, she agonisingly eased herself closer to the side of the mineshaft entrance. If she decided to go for the crystal this would help conceal her throw from at least half of the acolytes and men in the courtyard, only her arm would be visible from under her cloak if she threw the last pot of Dragon’s Thunder. Stealth was often a statistics game. If she decided to attempt to disrupt the ritual in order to delay the spell and break their concentration, it would take a lot of energy for a spell of this magnitude and may well wear them down and also gain her further time in the vain hope of the army arriving, it was that or give up in her current state.
Should she be discovered, she decided to herself resolutely that she would make an attempt to throw the vial onto the crystal; in the past she had been constantly drilled by Zerch to plan every step of her actions and come up with backup plans as far as possible. She had been an endless list-maker on other missions and it always seemed to help her work through a problem logically. The tempo of the dark acolytes’ chants quickened and the first signs of their magic could be felt in the air.
Tress’s underarm throw lobbed the flask of Dragon’s Thunder just short of the chanting group and the resultant exploding flash dazed the men completely, breaking their spell casting.
Tress’s pulled her hand quickly back beneath the hidden folds of her cloak, wincing at the pain of the manoeuvre at the same time. Miraculously her position was still undetected.
The acolytes were enraged by the unacceptable interruption to their mission. They could no longer accept this game of cat and mouse that could perhaps stretch further on into the night. The acolytes came to the conclusion that with the soldiers’ inability to find the source of the disruption the Aristrian cavalry men were obviously inbred with their mounts and were of no further use to their safety. They would need to undertake the search and discovery of this pest themselves and exact revenge for their fallen brothers. The acolytes knew that they would learn to master many of the powerful incantations needed over time, but individually they still lacked the raw power, ability and experience of their masters. Together though, they may be able to create a surprise for the hidden assailant. They silently gathered together, all knowing what must be done. With their, combined powers they were convinced that they would have the ability to deal with the situation. The nine men gathered around their comrade who had fallen foul to Tress’s handiwork. As they moved, they scattered the floor with light-emitting crystals, then after retrieving their fellow’s body, they each smeared their faces with his blood to mark themselves with a scent that would protect them. Next they dragged over a second robed-acolyte who had been wounded and crushed during the stampede. He was still alive but he struggled to breathe with his chest crushed. The group linked hands around the man and began to chant, weaving a spell of considerable power. Tress looked on from a distance helpless to react, as did the ranks of soldiers who instead watched with a fixed reaction of both fascination and disgust behind the group of chanting acolytes.
Telosis, the trampled and broken acolyte felt his body changing as he lay on the freezing ground and began to ponder how the day had held such strange twists of fate. This morning he had been fit and healthy with the prospect of participating in plans that could change the world, then a few moments ago he was facing a slow death as he battled for every breath, but now freed from the pain he felt his body healing, growing stronger, changing, but changing into what?
His broken ribs contorted and twisted as his form changed. Agony was once again etched on Telosis’s face as he transformed, but his human features and expression soon disappeared. His broken bones fused together as his muscles grew and his spine curved and reformed. His teeth moved in their gums, grinding in pain they extended until they were almost jagged and tusk-like and a multitude of fine bony spines forced their way through his skin. The last pondering thoughts and memories of his humanity faded as the man became no more.
The robed figures rapidly backed away as the Hellhound opened its eyes for the first time, the wild and ferocious look in its eyes made them, for a split-second, doubt their own powers of command over the oversized beast as it aggressively leapt up and took a snarling look at its new surroundings. Its long tongue lolled, tasting the foreign air between the enormous tusks that jutted upwards from its mouth. Its muscular body was coated by an array of bony spikes and bristles which appeared where fur would have existed on any normal hound.
Concentrating harder, the group projected the second spell into the hound’s small mind. The cloaked image of Tress appeared to the beast and the hound began to salivate at the thought of its next meal. With a howl, it jumped to its feet and began to sniff the ground stalking its prey. There were so many different scents to follow and there was the taste of blood already on the ground. The Hellhound began to circle the area rapidly.
With the sound of the hound’s howl, Tress came around from one of the short blackouts she had been experiencing, as well as the constant burning pain in her chest; she was gripped by a new fear as the hound circled the yard. Desperately she searched her mind for any reference to this beast in the old journals that Zerch had made her study – anything that might gain her an edge over such a dangerous beast as this. She had encountered several similar entities from other dark places but each creature seemed to have their own unique abilities and she did not relish discovering what this one had in store for her. Tress suddenly remembered that she still had Anak’s ring in her belt-pouch. He had used it to regenerate his health after paying the price for using blood magic. The thought of using a ring that had once sat on his foul finger disgusted her, anything that Anak had once owned was likely to be tainted in some way or another, but without it she may well die from blood loss alone, a fate that may be preferable to the beast homing in on her now. There was no choice, she rapidly rummaged through her pouches until she found the ring then slipped it over each of her fingers until she found the best fit. Tress immediately felt a tingling sensation around her wounds as her injured capillaries slowly began to heal. The pain began to decrease as her body began to regenerate and the constant bleeding of her wounds ground to a halt. She even thought that she could feel the crossbow bolt still protruding from her chest move slightly outwards. But best of all, the mind racking pain was now numbed by the ring’s magic.
The Hellhound followed one of the many scents, approaching the group of dark-robed men, snarling loudly at them. With animal instinct it would kill anything that displayed signs of weakness. The hound was suddenly stopped in its approach to the acolytes as the stench of the painted blood filled its sensitive nose. To the beast it was like ammonia and it turned away quickly spotting a nearby group of watching soldiers whose smell was not so repulsive. The quicker men rapidly ran for their lives to the nearest cover available, apart from one man who came to his senses a little slower than his comrades and lagged behind. It never paid to be last. The beast decided to test its new found strength and fill its empty belly at the same time. It pounced on the fleeing man from behind and his screams lasted only a moment as the huge jaws clamped tightly around the man’s head, crushing it like a melon. The beast spat out the remains of the head, this flesh did not taste right, it needed sweeter meat. It could smell what it wanted, if only it could find it. It trotted off sniffing the ground with a renewed interest. Most of the soldiers ignored their bravado and ran backwards for their lives. Some further away jeered and laughed at their fellows’ panic.
The beast ground its teeth in excitement as it picked up a new scent. Tress could tell as she followed the hound moving in the exact path that she had taken from the direction of the stables that it had now found her scent. She realised that one way or another, her mission would soon be over. She pulled herself up from the rocky mine-shaft entrance and limped towards the crystal, trying to close on it before the beast found her. There was no blood dripping from her wound now to give away her position, but now that she was moving, not even the ring could dull the agony that she felt as her feet staggered towards her mark with the cold sweat of fear covering her brow. Tress knew that she lacked the strength that would be needed to bring down the bone-armoured hound and her hands trembled as she clenched the vial. The hound rapidly approached her with its nose low to the ground. Her gaze focused back on the crystal as the dark-robed figures began re-chanting their transportation spell. Her clammy hands clung to the acid vial in indecision. Only two more steps and she would be within an easy throwing range of the crystal, she undid the vial’s stopper. The hound was now so close that its putrid smell was unmistakeable and it suddenly gave a great howl of excitement as it tasted her presence in the air.
Tress threw open her cloak and chucked the acid vial with all her might.
It tumbled through the air almost in slow motion before her and with a single word to dispel the magical strength of the container; it smashed directly into the hound’s skull splattering the sizzling liquid in all directions. The hound was in mid pounce when it fell, twitching, to the ground as its skull rapidly dissolved into liquid. The reaction was so quick the dying beast hardly made a sound before the acid had burnt its head and vocal cords away. Tress jumped backwards out of its path, struggling to pull her cloak back about her. Two crossbow bolts impacted into the ground where she had been standing seconds before. As the sand was disrupted by her rapid retreat, arrows and bolts flew from all around her as the men randomly peppered the area.
‘Screw the mission,’ she had thought in those final seconds. ‘I want to live.’
Tress hoped her choice for her life would still be fulfilled as an arrow just missed her head as the troops some way back continued to fire into the area with their bows, in the hope of getting lucky.
‘To hell with these meddling wizards,’ she thought as a crossbow bolt passed harmlessly through the fabric of her cloak. She was sick of them ruling the actions of her life, why should she now die for them? She only wished for a simple life, to live, love and reminisce.
The soldiers rushed back into the courtyard like ants, swords drawn, trying to trace the direction of the intruder, some swinging their swords around wildly into thin air.
Suddenly with a tremendous blast of wind and blinding light a huge portal opened beneath the crystal like an immense shimmering well and for a second, the crystal seemed to hang in the air, then the large stone fell downwards into the light, in an instant it was gone. Some of the acolytes had continued their spell during the last commotion and could not maintain the portal longer than a few seconds, but that was all the time that they had needed. Tress had failed in her mission but she hoped that she now still had a chance at life.
With all the commotion Tress slipped back unseen into the mineshaft entrance, needing to rest for a moment just inside long enough to catch her breath. She staggered into the darkness trying to take in the dark surroundings and advertently kicked an empty horse harness which went crashing down the internal slope into a deep shaft, the attached chain clattered loudly as it followed the harness down. This reinforced her decision that the darkness of the mine held too many hidden dangers for her escape. Tress immediately moved back out of the mine hoping that the clatter would serve as a distraction and would perhaps draw her hunters into this area whilst she sneaked out past them elsewhere. She quickly skirted around the edge of the courtyard, the noise in the mine had indeed attracted some attention and a detachment of solders moved to investigate. The dark-robed acolytes, now totally exhausted, were unable to further assist the solders so she surmised that with the fullness of night she may still have a chance to get past them and out of this alive, it was always good to cling to hope. The weary acolytes retired to the warmth of one of the side buildings of the large courtyard to recuperate from the strain of their magic. Ten burly men now stood shoulder-to-shoulder across the entrance to the building and the only courtyard entrance and exit was also guarded in the same fashion. Tress had no intention of going after the acolytes as she only cared for her own survival now. She would face Tamar’s displeasure if she lived through this, but he would have a job finding her now that she had the amulet, and any way, what difference did an extra wizard on her trail make to her? After her rapid exertions her chest wound began to seep blood again and looking down she spotted a few drops of blood dotting the ground. This wasn’t good and she hoped that the dim yellow crystal light illuminating the yard might help to hide her trail. The patrolling groups of soldiers moved closer, unaware of her presence. One of the officers was forming his men into a long extended line spanning the length of the courtyard. His intention was to methodically sweep the entire area, a manoeuvre which brought a growing sense of panic to Tress as she was still inside the cordon of men and now her retreat back into the mine entrance was also blocked by the large contingent that searched it. At least a dozen archers had also climbed onto the roofs of the stables for a vantage point scanning for any signs of further movement. With a curse that should not be repeated by any lady, Tress started to back away as the line was formed and began its advance. They trudged forward at a slow, but deliberate rate and with every step they took, the clatter of their armour echoed about the courtyard with a desperate rhythm. There was nothing to do now but wait for the inevitable discovery. Perhaps she should have used the acid on the crystal after all, she pondered these final thoughts as the line advanced ever closer to her.