The Songs of Strife

20 MERCY

Alahamid ran and stumbled a couple of times. But he kept on his course, breathing heavily. Out of the chaos he heard Marag called for his name. But he knew it was too late to save the man. The spear on the young Magalos' gut made sure of it. Marag cried his name again and only the one true god knew how Alahamid kept himself from turning back to help. He knew all too well what would happen if he stopped. They would all die here. Was this all because he underestimated Maas Ilidji? Anger rose from his gut and fueled his every movement he made as he realized something. Somehow this is all his fault. He promised that he will have his revenge and have the cunning datu's head. But for that to happen he had to survive.

The black warhorse stomped its hooves on the blood soaked ground as Alahamid cut the rope that held it down. Zhultanno exhaled a cloud of vapor from its snout as though irritated for his master's lateness.

Alahamid mounted the beast and urged it to run as fast as it could. Zhultanno reared up and dashed away from the spears' range, straight to the opening that led out of the death trap that they were in. Both man and beast burst out of the foliage, out of harm's way.

Or so they thought.

Just a few feet away from the opening, a line of rope tied around two opposing trees close-lined both of them. They struck the rope like a spring, sending them on a merry way to hard solid ground. Alahamid flew back as though a giant smote him off his saddle, both his swords clattering down a distance from him. The wind was knocked out of the Magalos lung, but luck was still on his side as he landed on a thick bush. Zhultanno, on the other hand, fell badly and broke its hind leg. But the horse was too stubborn as it tried to stand up only to be struck by a spear in the neck. It fell on its side and bled. Slowly, it bled dark blood. The horse nickered in his death throes as though calling for his master's aid. Alahamid tried to crawl towards it but the pain in his chest and back kept him from doing so. The beast finally died without his master on his side. Alahamid spat a vile curse, turning his head and searching for the cretin who killed Zhultanno.

"Didn't I tell you to pray about not meeting me again, little rat?" a man spoke behind a tree where the rope was tied.

"Ah, so the ape can do things without his master?" The Magalos finished with a sour smile as he tried to stand back. "That's good."

"Did you like the ride?"

Alahamid took a hold of a low lying branch for support. He was still a bit disorientated but he knew he could manage. "That was uncalled for." He leaned on a tree behind him, face clearly in pain, eyes on his warhorse.

"Oh, yes little rat." The man revealed himself.

He was the bald tattooed ape that tried to test Alahamid's patience and wit when he went to talk to Maas Ilidji earlier. He had his spear and shield with him and a doglike smile masked his murderous intent. "Like what I did to your friends?"

Alahamid spat to clear his throat, but it came out as a nasty fit of coughing. He could taste the blood on his spittle and somehow he felt at ease. He'd been in this situation before. Nothing was out of hand. "Ah, before I answer that I'd like to ask a question that's been bugging me for a long while now. Did you like what we did to your village years ago? Does it still burn when you arrived there?"

His enemy's face changed. Irritation and anger seeped through the tattooed facade, slowly eroding the man's sense of control. The Magalos slowly nodded. Did I struck a nerve? Alahamid thought. He smiled again but this time it was more like a sneer as his foe grumbled something. Things were still salvageable here. He could still make it out alive. He only needed an opportunity. And this dumb ape won't see it coming when he strikes. He knew it. He wagered everything on it and he was rarely wrong.