Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 48 - AMBUSH

Rain and wind whipped at Matt's cloak as they rode into the rolling hills that would make up the majority of their final days until they reached Shaleport. Night had fallen just an hour prior and the moons had not penetrated the thick, grey storm clouds leaving the unfamiliar landscape covered in near complete darkness. The poor horses were on their last leg, breathing heavily as they were pushed to their limits as they had ridden across the breadth of Verden for the past two weeks. Matt patted the side of Tarioc's neck, whispering his thanks into the horses ear, promising days of rest and bushels of apples when they arrived at the resistance camp at Shaleport.

Lightning cracked across the sky, spiderwebbing through the clouds in an awesome display of power, and a chilling reminder that somewhere out here, at least five dragons soared and hunted. Every flash lit the landscape, briefly revealing the details of their surroundings, followed by booms of thunder that rolled over the land, punctuating every bolt with its low rumble. The few trees that dotted the landscape sported brightly colored leaves of deep red, bright yellow, and burnt orange; autumn now holding deep sway across Verden.

  "No point... trying to... through this storm!" Anthony shouted over the howling wind, many of his words being swept away in the gale making it difficult to understand him. He pointed towards an assemblege of large rocks and boulders that protruded from the ground like a great stone fist erupting from the earth and yelled something that Matt could not hear. Cliff, who rode beside Anthony, nodded in agreement and they adjusted the direction of their gallop, turning their horses towards the outcropping. Matt and the others followed their example, bending their heads low as their faces were battered mercilessly by the rampaging elements.

  Matt smiled to himself despite the uncomfortable weather as Anthony continued a steady, if muted, conversation with Cliff as they rode. In the four days since they had taken the time to bond, Anthony's mood had seen marked improvement. No longer did he remain quiet and sullen, withdrawn deep within himself, but held long conversations with his family and nightly debriefs with both Cliff and Reyna. Of course, his old energetic and endlessly positive self had not yet returned, and Matt quietly wondered wether or not it ever truly would, but the infequent smiles his friend offered fuled his hopes that he was at the very least on a path of healing.  

  They slowed their horses as they pulled along the eastern side of the rock formation, keeping the piles of stone between their bodies and the wind. While the storm still raged around them, the rain dampening their clothes and freezing their bones, the sudden cesation of direct wind allowed them to converse wihout shouting and seemed to raise the temperature notably. Cliff directed them to arrange their horses in a semicircle with the rocks making up the final side, creating a living barrier to guard against the possibilty of the wind changing direction over night. It proved too wet to start a fire, let alone maintain one so they quickly resigned themselves to a cold night and unheated food.

  Mercifully, the rain slowed to a light drizzle while they ate in silence before, by some providence, ceasing completely just as Matt unrolled his bedroll across the damp grass. He offered up a quick prayer to Vilarra that the wet ground would not soak through the thin padding as he slept, he had no wish to wake even more soaked than when he went to sleep. Wishing to allow his clothes longer to dry before climbing under his woolen blanket he offered to take first watch, finding himself paired with Sylvia once again as Anthony seemed to gain some enjoyment from doing. They bade the others sleep well before positioning themselves just beyond the ring of horses so as to see the surrounding area with an unobstructed view. Gritting his teeth as if it would help to ward off the cold, Matt removed his cloak and draped it over one of the rocks, hoping that the wind could dry it during his watch. He stood in his worn-and-weathered short-sleeved shirt and shivered mercilessly in the wind.