Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 19: A Prophecy Unfolds

"One shall be raised as one of their own,

As a child of the Eagle, as a Hero.

Taken from travail and the heart of turmoil

Unknown until he is Chosen by what he will Wield

Then he will be revealed, a warrior, a soldier, a lord."

- from the Norak Utterance, Second Stanza

Tale cursed into the silence of his mind as he anxiously waved Urd and the others into cover. He then watched as a handful of dark cloaked King's Rangers slid by not five spans from where they crouched in the underbrush. The loyalist soldiers were completely silent as they moved carefully through the dense forest, hooded heads swinging back and forth as they searched for any sign of Shawn's kidnappers. And, yet again, the tight knot of rebels with their royal hostage, somehow remained undetected and Tale let a long sigh whistle out his nostrils in relief.

It had already been twelve days since the abortive ambush by regular rebel forces at Drell's Gap and their destruction at the hands of the Quada. Twelve days of running and hiding as Tale and his squad spent most of their time avoiding tight knots of furious rangers and skilled quadan scouts, pushing far from the battered village on the lip of the Giant's Way in the effort to locate the missing Ironstorm princes.

By skill, experience and shear luck, the rebels had managed to avoid capture. But the rangers somehow managed to keep within striking distance, as if they sensed the rebels nearby, despite every effort to keep their trail hidden. That, or all the stories Tale had heard about the rangers being able to track smoke through fog were true and it was just a matter of time before they closed in on the fleeing rebels.

In their efforts to elude capture, Tale and his men had pushed far to the north of the Giant's Way, deep into a section of forest even the locals avoided. 'It was the beginning of the Ghost Forest', they said, a forbidden place that swallowed up even the most experienced and skilled hunters and trappers with regular hunger. Being from the Aramas, the rebels knew nothing of such stories and had pressed into the dark forest called 'haunted'.

In truth this particular forest marked the southern edge of a rambling escarpment that climbed unevenly out of the forest floor to the north and east, the eastward marching reaching to the very feet of the Giant's Teeth. The northward march continued into a rough series of low, jagged hills that thrust out of the surrounding greenery with gray granite abandon. It was into these hills the loyalist searchers had now driven the desperate rebels.

Starting this morning, the knot of rebels and their royal hostage climbed into the hills, moving upward for almost a full watch before these rangers swept across their back trail. Tale tore his eyes from the rangers to scan up the ragged cliff they were scaling. Aye, a watch worth of hard work and still they had far to go if they wanted to reach the high ground before nightfall. But it was work all of them were willing to do to climb out of the reach of the rangers.

"Let's go," he rasped as soon as he was sure the rangers were out of range of their amazing hearing, shaking off the feeling that eyes were still watching them. A feeling he had first sensed yesterday and growing stronger ever since.

"We should be clear of them now."

"I hope so, colonel," Urd growled tiredly as he pulled himself up beside Tale. "These damn rangers are harder to shake than a handful of grimmon ticks! And to think we hoped we'd lose them in these damn hills." He shakily wiped the sweat from his brow before looking out and down along the gray escarpment where the rest of their small company were just rising from cover.