Serial
55: Fight and flight
January
23st, 33 S.D. 22:43 Northern Henron, Central Plains
Something was very wrong. Even before the black veil unraveled before his eyes, Tibil Henron sensed that things had gravely gone awry. By slight degrees, his consciousness returned. As if emerging from a tunnel, the darkness lifted from his sight. The scene around him, blurred and hazy, initially remained an incoherent mess. Moments passed, however, and soon his focus came back. From where he lied on the ground, he could see one arm of his lamely thrown out to the side. Above him, further along the clearing, the glow of a fierce light emanated. He heard the crackling of fire nearby. The air filled with the scent of burning wood.
Tibil tried to remember what exactly had led to this predicament, but his recollection simply failed after a certain series of events. Their carriage had been attacked, and eventually it had ignited. Their pursuers had set their arrows aflame. They’d been fleeing, trying to make their way to some safety. Then something had happened to their horse? A trap or an assault of some sort? The details were lost upon his memory, but he knew they’d rolled off the road.
He attempted to raise his head but winced as a sudden pain surged across his neck. The base of his skull felt sore as his temples began pounding and pulsing. A concussion? He could only wonder. The rest of his body ached like he’d been beaten all over. For the most part though, he thought he might be fine. To avoid harming himself, Tibil slowly got up. At first he had a seat then tried to stand up. His actions were premature, however. His legs shuddered, leaving him to collapse to his knees as his head swam. Breathing heavily, a wave of nausea washed over him. He could but pant while he tried to stabilize his condition.
After a time, he looked up at the remnants of their vehicle. Where had their horse gone? More importantly, where had Vergon disappeared to? He could see no one around. He only heard his own presence amid the popping embers.
“Vergon...” he said, starting off weakly. “Vergon, where are you? Hello, Vergon?” Tibil waited for a bit, but there was no response.
“D****t,” he muttered briefly. “Vergon, you better not die on me. Vergon!” His cry echoed throughout the woodlands, bouncing off so many trees spread around. If he had had a clearer frame of mind, Tibil would never have made such a call. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the best position to critically assess things. The day’s harrowing events were still taking their toll on him, after all.
In the distance, the muted footsteps of others faintly came to his ears. Of course, they couldn’t be far off from his trail. The fire beside him would be more than enough to pinpoint his location, but he’d gone and raised his voice. Without a doubt, they’d find him.
“Shrieks,” Tibil breathed as he forced himself upright. There was no choice in the matter; he had to leave immediately, whether or not his body would tolerate it. How long had he been out? How far had they chased after him? He suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was. With but a glance at the hillside to his left, he figured that had been the road they were supposed to have taken. The snow plowed path that lead right to the carriage and the clearing, so that must have been where they fell from. To his opposite side, vast expanses of wilderness sat. Beyond a certain threshold, the night was but empty, seemingly consuming everything in its domain. Nevertheless, it would conceal him as well.
Seeing no better action in his hands, Tibil marched in this direction. As a commotion grew somewhere down the road, he felt as if a new sense of urgency plunged into his heart. Running as best as he could, Tibil entered the barren landscape. A handful of random trees apparently materialized just meters in front of him as he charged along blindly. With scarcely any light to guide, Tibil practically stumbled his way forward, raising and waving his hands back and forth to detect anything in proximity. It soon became a journey where every step presented a challenge. Sometimes he found himself sinking into a deep snow bank, tripping over some unseen object, or narrowly grazing the rough trunk of a tree.
For a moment, he looked to his rear. The carriage by then had become a small bright dot, however, he also saw two more points illuminated near it. Hovering about, they moved back and forth in wide, sweeping arcs. If they had decent lanterns, they could easily follow the tracks he’d made. They’d also be able to cover ground faster than he had. The only true advantage he had was time, a head-start; he could little afford to waste it in that case. Without regard for the obstacles in his way, Tibil took flight, running as fast as his breath allowed. Somehow, he managed to avoid hitting anything. It was then that he realized he was coming into the open plains where fields spread from end to end. If only there were some place to hide. In any other season, he could have just dived into some tall grass; no one would have ever discovered him. Winter, however, had stripped away so many options. In any case, Tibil knew he couldn’t halt; his life depended on the constant effort of his legs. He continued racing along, hoping that an opportunity would present itself. In fact, something of the sort happened soon enough.
Tibil all at once became aware of a plodding, crunching sound, as if something else were moving along the same snow he had trod. His foremost thoughts of bewilderment suspected that they’d finally reached him. The noise was rapid, yet steady, a horse perhaps? How could he hope to compete with that? It seemed to gain on him, zig-zagging to either side. Tibil frantically glanced back, capturing but a glimpse of a shadow swiftly bolting out of view. By the time his head snapped forward, something large had intercepted his path. With a gasp, Tibil braked himself, slipping and falling as he scrambled to change directions.
A great, dark steed raised itself before him, towering over him on its hind legs. It neighed loudly then stamped the ground but half a meter from Tibil’s feet. A small electric lantern spontaneously came to life as the rider flicked it on. At the same time, the distinctive cocking of a revolver was heard. Tibil looked up at the rider, and indeed he saw a gun aimed straight down at him. Koter titled his head, as if inspecting Tibil. As his other hand moved the lamp closer to the ground, a halo fell on Tibil.
“Tibil Henron,” Koter said at last. “Son of Heigon Henron and heir as head of the entire Henron clan,” he grinned slightly. “Or at least you were, until your father decided to have you killed. Something about being a threat to his power.”
Tibil could but sit there, propping himself up with two arms. His eyes locked upon the gun’s slender barrel; his pulse pumped and quickened, warming his body in contrast with the ice surrounding him. Was this going to be the closing of his tale?
“You... you are here to take my life, sa?”
Koter looked down at Tibil, staring at him long and hard. Seeing as the other scarcely blinked even once, he wrenched his arm straight up at the elbow, turning the gun skyward.
“Hmm...” Koter hummed amusedly. “Not exactly.”
“What did you say...?” Tibil asked, perplexed by the response. “You mean, you do not have orders to eliminate me?”
“No,” Koter said. “My ‘orders’ are actually quite different.”
“How so?” Tibil slowly rose from the ground, wiping bits of snow from his hands.
“Your father did tell me to kill you. A general decree, you know, applicable to all citizens, not just the military. ‘Tibil Henron must not live, for the crime of plotting to usurp our lord’s authority.’ As it stands, you have been declared a traitor to your people. But as I said, I have orders that say otherwise.”
“Then you know those charges are fabricated,” Tibil asserted, gesturing forcefully with his arms. “I had no intention of seeking any sort of leadership or status until I have been properly certified by him.”
“Or by his untimely death.”
“I have no desire of staging a rebellion against him.”
“Not yet anyway,” Koter shook his head.
“He cares too greatly about control,” Tibil explained, frowning as he looked away for a while. “It has warped his mind and his perception of whom he can trust. He cannot see past the lens of paranoia he has constructed for himself.”
“Which is where your role begins.”
“My role...?” Tibil questioned aloud. “Who are you...?”
“Me?” Koter spun the revolver around one finger before sliding it perfectly into a holster on his leg. “Just a stray dog.”
Tibil shifted about as he spoke. “What precisely do you want from me?”
“The only thing I need you to do is survive. There are those who want to see our people change. You could be their agent, their leading cause. If you choose so, of course. Deciding that is your job; mine is to deliver you to them. But in any case, you get to walk away from this little situation of yours.” Koter nodded to the general area behind Tibil. Whirling around, the latter saw four lights growing ever brighter through the evening. They were sure to hunt him down, eventually. Quickly, he turned back to Koter.
“Where are we going?”
“Away,” the Field Lead replied bluntly. “You need not trust me. You need only consider your chances without me.”
Tibil gathered that if Koter really had any ill plans, those terms would almost certainly be better than dealing with the ones searching for him.
“Then it seems to me we have wasted too much time already. We need to leave immediately.”
“Well said,” Koter grinned as he tightly affixed the lantern to his belt. “Get up here. We make way for the north.”
Tibil awkwardly scurried onto the horse, trying to find a comfortable spot between Koter and the large bags stored at the creature’s rear. He wondered if Koter’s steed could carry two grown men in addition to that load, but as soon as he finished that thought, they surged forward in an instant. Effortlessly, the horse began charging across the land. As Koter gripped the reins in hand, so too did Tibil hold onto the saddle. Though the lamp offered them a limited range of visibility; everything outside of its light remained part of a great abyss. How did Koter know just where to go? How had he found him to begin with? Tibil hadn’t seen the lamp on earlier, even as Koter had slipped around him. All questions aside, they rode on in silence for a while, slowing their pace so as not to wear out their transport.
“Do some of our brothers and sisters truly wish to change Henron?” Tibil asked.
“You will have to be the judge of that yourself, when you meet them,” Koter said.
“What about you?”
“As I said, I am just following orders.”
“Not my father’s though.”
“And there is the answer,” Koter said evenly.
Tibil was just about to say something else when Koter suddenly jerked them to the right; with haste, they began to pick up speed.
“Humph,” Koter huffed; a smile stretched across his mouth as his eyes seemed to liven. “We have company. They were waiting for us, the stinking b******s...”
“Who? Where?” Tibil swiveled from side-to-side but saw absolutely nothing. Koter drew his revolver, tossing it up in a spiral. With a swipe, his left hand snatched it and pointed it out over the darkened plains.
“Over there,” he said, as if he could sense them even in the void. On cue, however, eight torches flared up in unison. Some 100 meters away, a small handful of soldiers on horseback raised their flames up high as they began galloping towards the fugitives.
“Hold on,” Koter instructed. “This is where it gets interesting.”
Given their horse’s load, they couldn’t possibly outrun their foes. In less than a minute, the soldiers swooped upon them.
“You two! Stop right there! Hey!” one of them called.
Koter took but one look at the man before raising his pistol and firing. His attack came in one, clean motion. As Koter’s arm whipped up from the recoil, a mass of puss and blood erupted from the soldier’s face. The bullet ripped through his nose and ejected upwards out of the back of his skull. Without another word, the soldier slumped backwards. Limp and lifeless, he only remained in place thanks to the stirrups. The enemy’s horse, frightened by the shot, dashed wildly about. With no one left to control its impulses, it disappeared. The torch fell to the ground, smothering itself as it burrowed into snow.
By the time one had been handled, three more had caught up. Knowing that Koter and Tibil were armed, they approached aggressively, baring their blades in hand. While they simultaneously gripped the bridles and torches in one, they readied their sharpen tools in the other. Koter didn’t smell any gunpowder on them, so he’d have the advantage there with no sharpshoots. Before the next even got close, Koter nailed him straight through the head. The violent force of the gun actually unseated the unfortunate soul, tossing his body to the ground. As the corpse bounced and flipped, the other two soldiers nearly trampled it. They decided to flank Koter and Tibil on both sides. Positioned to the left and right, they prepared to pinch their target.
“Tibil!” Koter yelled as the men shifted in on them.”The bag behind you; reach in there. Find the gun. Fire on the right. I can take the left.”
“W-what?” Tibil stuttered even as he rummaged around with his hands. “You want me to fire such a weapon?”
“You want to make it through this? It is simple; you point, you pull, things die. See for yourself.”
Tibil fumbled with the gun as he rushed to extract it. Somehow, he got it without mistakenly dropping it. The firearm was a long, somewhat bulky device, a variant he’d never seen before. It was neither rifle nor pistol: a shotgun.
“Already loaded,” Koter said. “Wait until I fire, then get rid of your mark too.”
“Wait, wait. I have never used something like this. You expect me to aim on horseback?”
“You will not miss. Mind your arms. Cheek to the stock.”
Tibil had no say in the matter. The two horsemen closed in on them, seconds away from making a lethal move. In an instant, everything broke out. Before he knew it, Tibil was face-to-face with the soldier. The flames burned chaotically, dancing in the wind, all the while highlighting the deadly steel swinging overhead.
“Shrieks,” Tibil scarcely uttered.
An explosion rang fiercely in his ear as Koter blasted down one of their assailants. There simply wasn’t any time to think; Tibil automatically reacted. He held up the shotgun and pulled the trigger as quickly as he could. A flash sliced through the night; a sound like thunder deafened him. The gun kicked him in the chest, nearly knocking Tibil over were it not for Koter’s skillful grip. He’d struck the soldier squarely in the gut and actually launched him off his horse. A part of him somehow remained tethered to the saddle, thus the animal dragged him along the frozen prairie. As Tibil readjusted himself, he could but blankly gaze at what he’d just done. He’d never killed anyone before, but in that regard, no one had ever tried to rob him of his own life. The painful tone in his ears subsided, and he soon noticed that the other soldier to their left was nowhere to be seen. Koter had apparently taken him out. There were, however, still four more of them to contend with.
The rest stormed in as a group, once again attacking from the left. Two of them came at Koter and Tibil, synchronizing their swords to strike both escapees. Quite deviously in response, Koter swept his gun sideways, firing off two rounds in crisp succession. Rather than the riders, he hit their steeds instead. One’s front knee blew away in a hail of bone and blood; the other’s neck was severely punctured. In either case, both beasts crashed to the ground a second later. A mangled heap of limps, their bodies fell and broke with a single, sickening crunch. The two soldiers, caught in the aftermath, tumbled along with the horses. They too were crushed and battered seriously, if not fatally.
Keen to avoid the wreckage of their comrades lest they become part of the mess as well, the remaining soldiers darted away. Despite the fact that a number of them had already died, this persistent pair continued their mission. Like before, Koter aimed carefully. However, the very moment his finger tripped the trigger, their horse hit a small, unseen divot. They hardly dipped but a few centimeters, but it was more than enough to throw his shot off-course. The projectile sailed harmlessly above their helmets.
“D****t,” Koter swore as his arm retreated, pulling the gun close to his face. “Six shots, six shots...” he said, holstering the empty revolver. The two soldiers laughed as they engaged. One crept in close, swinging his sword in a long, backhanded curve. Only a quick jolt to the reins saved both Koter and Tibil; they jumped to the side as it but narrowly missed. Even as they pulled back, this one pressed up against them. He tried to stab their horse several times without success.
“Whatever is that matter now? Out of bullets already?” the soldier taunted. “Come on now, fight us like men!”
“Go to hell,” Koter said as he drew out a knife and whipped it across the air. His movements, a blitz of sudden motion, could barely be traced by an untrained observer. Before the soldier even realized what had taken place, he had the knife sunk to the handle straight through his left eye socket. A faint gurgled gasp was the last sound he ever made before sliding forward on his horse; his weapon and torch fell idly by his sides as the steed itself slowed to a stand-still.
“B*****d!” cried the final soldier. “Kill my men, will you?!” This one came up to them violently, throwing his blade dangerously close to their heads. Among the Henron, however, Koter was one of the finest equestrians. Though the soldier cut wide and swiftly, Koter avoided each stroke with maneuvers of his own. In an instant though, instead of dodging the soldier’s sword, Koter drove towards him. With a long, thick knife, Koter slashed out, deflecting his opponent. As the soldier’s arm flew backward, the man looked puzzled, wondering how such a relatively minor tool could overpower his own.
Koter maintained the offensive, hurling blow after blow. Their enemy could barely defend himself; each time he blocked Koter, he was thrown slightly off-balance. Tibil could only sit there in awe at the sheer strength the officer seemed to possess; he’d never heard let alone seen anyone fight a swordsman like that. Koter wasn’t just holding out; he was gaining the advantage. In one downward slice, he forced himself against the soldier. Parallel to one another, their horses ran in tempo. Their weapons mingled, straining as they clashed at the guards.
“Y-you! You are the-” the soldier said as his eyes widened and his brows raised. It seemed he’d had a revelation.
“Tibil! Now!” Koter hollered.
Instinctively, Tibil jammed the shotgun straight into the soldier’s ribs and pulled the trigger. The impact at point blank disintegrated the poor fellow from the chest to his upper stomach. As if a monster had run its claw straight through, his was a sight of so much flesh torn asunder.
“Ahgah...” He toppled over as his horse lost control, neighing frantically as it sprang recklessly about. It almost collided with them, yet Koter gave it a superficial cut with his knife, scarring it off. As its cry disappeared into the darkness, Tibil hoped their business here was finally concluded.
“It... looks like we made it,” Tibil sighed, tossing his head back as he held the gun across his lap.
“For now at least,” Koter said as he tucked the knife away. His hand briefly brushed up against the special knife he always carried in another holster, the one with the decorated handle. He allowed himself a quick glance at his side as he felt his heart halt. He was saving that for a special someone, whenever they met again. Until then, like Tibil, Koter had to fight and live.
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