Forests gave way to road again four days later. Aralim and his weary group of followers emerged from the jungle covered with sweat, bloody scratches, and half-healed wounds. For half the day they marched along a soldier’s gait without interruption. Aralim’s burned hand ached and itched, though Nill and Grendar both assured him it was healing. Even the Aura had taken a look on behalf of Tag’na. Carrak’s head seemed to heal even quicker, somehow. The soldier moved briskly, and training at nightfall with Grendar had proved to himself and to the others that he had moved past the dizziness. Though their injuries had healed, trouble found them again on the Crimson Highway.
A rider emerged from the woodland about an hour after they had stopped for lunch. Lerela saw him first, miles distant. To Aralim it was a speck that could have been a fly between his eyes and the road. Sure enough, several other flies joined the first. The other riders from the group of bandits followed them for a ways, far from view.
At a double pace, Aralim and his friends continued east along the road. They didn’t discuss what they had seen or what they might do. They simply walked as quickly as they could.
Soon enough, their pursuers began to move north of the road. There were no hills to hide them this time. The bandits were out in the open, following from a position behind and to the right of the Ambassador’s entourage.
Grendar cleared his throat. “They must be trying to flank us. There could be more in the forests south of us. A pincer maneuver.”
“Should we avoid the forest then?” Aralim asked. He still walked with his scorched staff; it resembled a spear now. “To avoid an ambush? Or charge in and find them before they find us?”
“The horses are the only ones that can outpace us. Bandits in the jungle—not a chance.” Grendar looked around. “I think if we just keep marching forward quickly enough, they won’t be able to form any sort of ambush at all.”
Yovin spoke up. “Unless they are already ahead.” The soldier scowled through his wiry beard.
Grendar nodded. “True.”
“Let’s keep going,” Aralim said. “With Lerela’s eyes, we’ll see if they are ahead.” He got a nod from the sergeant and they fell silent once more. They kept their eyes on the trees and Lerela kept her eyes on the road ahead. The riders gained slowly—they had been tracking Aralim’s group for days now and their horses must have been exhausted.
As twilight slowly crept across the enormous sky, the flatland grew eerily hazy. The riders were growing closer, and then Lerela said, “There’s movement in the forests south of us. Can you see the birds?” No one could. “I’d say it’s a group of ten to twenty.”
“That’s a good pace,” Grendar said, stopping near Lerela to follow her pointing arm. “They can get ahead of us. Probably during the night.”
“They want us bad,” Nill murmured.
“First, it was gold and… captives, that they were after,” Carrack contributed. “Now I’d say they’re after fiery vengeance.”
Aralim held up his bandaged hand. “I’ve had my fill.” He smiled weakly. “We’re better off going back in the woods than waiting out here. Do we go straight for the fight, or hope we can lose them?”
“We still don’t know how many there are for certain,” Grendar reminded. “I am inclined not to advance against such unknown odds. According to our training we should be able to defeat many adversaries, but combat is not a math. Out here we’re in the open—the forest is a little better for putting barriers to our backs at least.”
Nill looked at the sergeant. “King Prathar is quoted as saying ‘Adir ūngead awumod ufarshe acha efer h’emeed.’ ‘The best military strategy is not to fight.’” Grendar gave her a nod as though to say, “that might be true.”
Aralim spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Let’s head southwest for now. They might be less inclined to follow us as we enter thicker forest. Just keep an eye out for the ones Lerela caught a glimpse of.”
No sooner had they entered the forest than Lerela raised a hand to stop them. She listened for a moment. Then Yovin nodded, and next Aralim heard it. The horses were galloping, their riders approaching. Hooves thundered when the bandits crossed the Highway’s cobblestones.
While the others felt dread growing, Grendar smiled. “They’re trying to get close enough to chase us into the ambush, but I say we have the element of surprise now. Let’s kill these riders.”
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Aralim said, then took a deep breath. He looked at the blackened point of his burned staff and hoped it was strong enough to impale.
Devran came to Aralim for instructions, for some reason, while the guards positioned themselves between trees and prepared their gear. Even Nill stood near Yovin, near the back of their battle-line but still in the open. Aralim just told Devran to, “Keep away from the battle and keep an eye out for the other bandits. They’ll be coming the moment they hear combat.” The chronicler found a bush in which to hide.
The Aura stood near the front of their group, his hands hanging loosely from his sides and his hood pulled down. Though he looked the same as always, Aralim could somehow sense the tension and readiness in the man’s frame. Had this Aura been a warrior before his induction? Or had he submitted to such rigorous training during his servitude?
The galloping grew into a storm of broken twigs and foliage, and then the bushes gave way to the first rider. He took a swing at the Aura with a spear. The orange-robed servant easily caught the shaft and yanked the man from his saddle. Grendar took two bold steps forward and finished off the man before the Aura had appropriated the weapon for his own use. The second rider—none other than the tribal marked bandit from their first encounter—came smashing through the bushes. His machete might have made quick work of any close target, but the Aura’s spear-butt dug up a rut in the mud when the horses’ chest impaled upon it. The burly warrior fell from his saddle, but came up dexterously on one knee. Carrak rushed at him, his sword slashing aggressively. Sparks flew.
Two more riders slammed into the weapons of Lerela and Yovin. Clanging metal was soon overtaken by the sound of a battle horn. Grendar swiftly cut down the bandit who had blown the instrument, but it was too late. Whatever troop was marching south of them must have heard.
One rider released an arrow from his saddle, spiralling the outside of the skirmish. His first shot grazed Grendar’s arm, the second missed Aralim, and the third whistled past Nill. She cried out and fell, but then Aralim saw her quickly scramble to her feet. She might have been nicked, but she didn’t show it. She scrambled for a tree, while the archer nocked another arrow. Aralim rushed forward and jabbed at the horseback brigand with his staff-spear. He grazed the man’s shoulder with the crumbling point and only managed to convince the man to drop his bow. The bandit drew out a sword from a scabbard on his back, shouting curses and spitting at Aralim as he did so. Before Aralim could thrust his makeshift weapon again, Yovin grabbed the man’s belt and tore him from his saddle.
Aralim glanced for Nill again—she was safe—and then looked for the Aura. Carrak had been distracted from the fight with the leader by the final rider. The Elder Coast native now fought the Aura blow-for-blow. The spear had split in two, and the Aura wielded the remnant like a quarterstaff. He bruised muscle after muscle on his foe, but the ritually-scarred berserker seemed tireless. Aralim marched closer, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
When it seemed the Aura was regaining the upper hand, the angry warrior spun and swiftly grabbed Grendar’s approaching shoulder. The sergeant was sent reeling toward the Aura—an obstacle—as the tribal bandit grabbed the reins of a terrified horse. Grendar’s blade, yanked after the soldier, grazed the warrior’s arm and spilled dark red down the flank of the startled horse. Nonetheless, the enormous man hiked himself up onto the steed’s back and gave it a mighty slap to the rump. The underbrush was slashed out of the way. And then, their clearing was quiet.
“We did it,” Carrak said, grinning. He wiped his sword on a fallen robber’s sleeve and then slid the blade into its leather home at his waist. “Only one got away.”
Aralim looked at Nill. “And we’re all unharmed, relatively?” She turned her shoulder to show a thin graze, but then nodded to him.
Even the Aura had been nicked by something, but they all seemed unharmed. Grendar was looking through the injured. Lerela was leaning against a tree—and blood was bubbling through her hairline.
“Lerela! Help her!” Aralim blurted. The group closed around her quickly, fearfully. Aralim got close enough to see her eyes fluttering unfocused and her jaw hanging slackly before the other guards and soldiers blocked his focus.
“This is bad,” Grendar mumbled. He glanced back at Aralim. “If we were in town, this would be a ‘don’t move her’ injury.”
Nill let out her breath in a sad sigh, and the others murmured to each other over their wounded comrade. Even Grendar looked emotional, but turned back to Lerela to keep his focus. “We might need to just go, if that native gets his reinforcements.” He began to cut away her hair with his knife. Yovin put a water canteen in the sergeant’s glove when it was requested. As he quickly cleaned the site of the wound, Carrak cursed and kicked a nearby body.
“Will she live?” Devran asked, fearfully.
“If we were near a proper healer,” Grendar muttered. He and Yovin helped her down into a sitting position and then Grendar moved over to Aralim’s side. They stepped away from the group to speak privately. The Aura followed.
Grendar wiped his forehead to collect himself. His hand was shaking. He looked Aralim in the eye. “Her skull is badly fractured. She is not going to be walking this one off. Not today, and probably not in a month. Barring a miracle, we’re going to have to carry her to the city or leave her here.”
Aralim looked past Grendar at the group of concerned friends. The Path ended for everyone eventually, but Aralim was left to wonder, Why Lerela? Why not me, or Nill, or Devran? This was why he had started walking the Path in the first place. Others had died when he should have. “There aren’t curses for moments like this. Devran, Nil, and I will carry her. Is there a way to support her head?”
Grendar’s eyes lit up. After that, it took only about two minutes for the guards to assemble a stretcher. Aralim carried the top end, while Devran and Nill split the bottom. They continued walking moments later. The soldiers conscripted a horse from those that had survived their bandit riders; they piled their supplies onto the horse’s back for the sake of speed.
Lerela’s head was cushioned by bundled bed-supplies, but her eyes wandered over the canopy of the forest and her tongue rolled in her open mouth. Aralim quickly learned not to look down at her. He focused on the foliage they crossed, and the road they reached after that. He was on the Path, or he would have perished. Nonetheless, Aralim walked with a mournful and melancholic mind. When Nill asked him how his burned hand was doing—holding the stretcher and all—he didn’t bother to reply.
The Crimson Highway was still the fastest way west. Twilight drifted into darkness, and still Aralim and his friends marched. They saw no more of the bandits that night.