Ambush

Amala's late night drive turns to a desperate run to avoid an ambush

3.

Ambush

 

It was nearly midnight when they reached the beginning of Orc Pass.   The crossing was aptly named, for the mountainous region was the domain of several tribes of Orcs that had kept the natural pass through the Elotrush Mountains from being used by anyone other than Orcs for hundreds of years.  

 

The Kingdom of Northmarch had tried for several generations to flush the Orcs from the mountains so they could secure a direct route to the Southern Empire and avoid hundreds of miles of detours.  

 

But the Orcs were fierce, and it wasn’t until King Haroldris’ reign - who was now close to death at the great age of 115- that they tried diplomacy rather then force.

 

It had been a risky idea that had taken several years to succeed, but now Orc Pass was used every day and the Orcs lived at peace with their human neighbors.  

 

The pass was quiet at this time of night, even in the high summer months when the merchant caravans were most active.   Glancing ahead in the dark, the Drow girl could see the sides of the pass pulling inward, and that meant the northern exit was not far. 

 

Orc Pass narrowed to perhaps 40 feet in width for the last half of a mile, only to spill out of the mountains on the other side, on a downhill path to the heavily fortified city of Southgate; the southern-most city in the Kingdom.  They would reach the city easily in an hour.

 

She had sat back in the driver’s bench, relaxing as the trip neared the end, when her superior night vision caught movement ahead on the road.   The Elven horses saw it too and slowed slightly as they approached.   Amala knew immediately something wasn’t right.  

 

There were bodies sprawled out all around the road, their heat signatures indicating the dull color of the dead or dying.  But not all the forms were dead, for large humanoid figures paused in their plundering as they heard the coach’s approach, then scattered to each side of the road.  

“Yah!  Aut!  Aut! Rim!”  She yelled to the horses, using the Elven words for ‘go’ and ‘run’.  The horses, in spite of a long day of pulling the coach, all burst forth, sending Amala backward on the bench.

 

They rode down onto the scene of warhorses and the bodies of soldiers, littering the road where they had fallen.   As the coach rattled and bounced through the carnage, Amala could see forms rushing toward the coach now, trying to stop them.

“Amala!  What’s happening out there?!”  Jevon’s head poked out from the coach window.

“Ambush!   Orcs attacked the Prince’s troop!   Keep down; I’m going to try to get us through the pass!”

 

As if the Orcs had heard her words, suddenly a volley of arrows began raining down on them.   The Drow girl leaned over the seat, keeping herself as low of a target as she could, as she prayed to Yesh to not let her horses be hit by one of the arrows.   

 

Ahead was the exit of the pass where a Southgate guard station was located, but instead of human guards, she saw Orcs running toward the gate’s lever that lowered the huge portcullis that would block their escape.

 

In spite of the arrows, Amala stood up on the bench.

“Aut!  Aut!  Rim!  Rim! Rim!” she screamed at the horses.

Suddenly the horses jerked sharply to the left, weaving around a dead warhorse on the path.   Their sudden movement kept them from stumbling over the dead steed, but the stagecoach’s front right wheel did not avoid it, and the carriage slammed into the animal, sending the coach up on two wheels.  

 

Amala was thrown off, the wind knocked from her lungs as she watched the coach teeter on the edge of overturning. 

Unable to move for a moment from the impact, she silently willed the coach to right itself, and a moment later the coach did.  

 

“Go!” she said silently as the horses continued their sprint for the gateway.   An Orc pulled the lever and the sharp squeal of scrapping metal told of the descent of the portcullis.  But the Elven horses were faster, and they sailed through the gateway, the iron bars of the gate just nicking the edge of the coach as it passed through.

 

The Orcs screamed in frustration as the out-of-control coach disappeared down the long path to Southgate.

Her breath just now returning to her, Amala gasped in air as she watched the stage disappear from view.   They were safe; she thought as she quickly rolled over and then got to her feet.  

 

But I’m dead, she thought as the heavy sounds of running Orcs charged toward her in the dark.

 

Reviews

[Elina]

I rather enjoy your style of writing. It's very simple and clean, leaving a lot to one's imagination, while still getting the important points across.
This was great, suspenseful chapter.

[Eddie Davis]

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[Glen Yumang Manese]

Their sudden movement kept them from stumbling over the dead stead, but the stagecoach’s front right wheel did not avoid it, and the carriage slammed into the animal, sending the coach up on two wheels.
---
stead??? --- or instead...

this chapter ---
pick up in pace with the Orc's ambush..
she gets left behind...
the couch seems safe...
and the ending takes us there...
seems the Prince's and others matters have question marks...

[Eddie Davis]

Thanks, I missed that spelling error, it should of course be 'steed'.

[Glen Yumang Manese]

You're welcome...good to see the clarification...just as I was reading that part...did not calculate correctly...