The Princess of Cithrí - Chaol Westfall Fanfiction

Part 23

The desert sand from outside wafted around the carriage, stinging my eyes, and scratching my throat. Something wasn't right, my ears buzzed, like a bee was trapped in their canals. The seats they were vertical on the walls and the door was on the cieling. I heard a groan underneath me, and scrambled off the body I had fallen into. Vanir off to the side was already crying, hugging his arm, cradling it like a mother does to a new born.
I gasped, not caring about the sand. I had fallen into Rowan, who no longer moved, he just lay there, lifeless on the carriage side. Red liquid trickling down his face in hot gushes. "Rowan?" I whispered, shaking him, trying to find somewhere to stand at his side. The window was already cracked, and creaked under my foot.
He didn't stir, his head lolling around on the carriage, blood falling onto the wood. "Rowan!" My bottom lip was trembling, my hands frantic to wake him. I needed him. I needed help. He wasn't going to wake soon, he was completely knocked out. I almost tore off my tunic, stripping off my undershirt and pressing it to his head. Vanir was staring at me in my little vest, but I couldn't care, he was too young to understand that side of life, plus I was his sister. "Vanir!" I hissed at him, my voice barely audible above the thundering of the horses outside. "Vanir get over here!"
The little boy, his face bone-white, shuffled across, taking extra care to mind the window. "Take this, hold it here, and press, all right?" I showed the boy the cut in Rowan's head, handing him my shirt and pressing his hand against it. It didn't take long for blood to seep through the white cloth, Vanir whinning as the blood gathered around his fingers. "Keep pressure on it!" I hissed at him, trying to find steady places to put my feet. The bow still lay under the seat l jumped up catching it in my fingers, the quiver was still full, I was amazed. A few of the arrows were snapped or missing feathers, they would have no use, only fall to the floor the moment they left the bow string. On the right wall, above the seat where Rowan had been sat, was a large crack in the wood. I ran my fingers down it, small fragments of wood chipped off, with droplets of blood on them, he must have hit his head here too. The crack ran around the wood, spiking off in every direction, and in the middle a perfect circle, cracks completely around it. I pressed a finger to it, then two, it groaned but didn't fall out. Shutting my eyes, taking a deep breath I squashed my fingertips against the circle. It popped out, like a cork on a wine bottle.
The hole was now, roughly eye shaped, big enough for me to squint out of. Dust and sand surged at me, kicked up by the never ending stream of horses's legs. The sand poured into the carriage, it was uncomfortable, but breathable.

It was impossible to count the number of horses, the chestnut legs seemed to be never ending as they circled the carriage. Cantering round and round us. The men on top all looked the same; a blur of black racing past on a horse, bows and arrows in their hands, swords at their hips. I couldn't see any symbol on the breast pocket, at least that was a good sign. Then there was a flash of white, like a hurricane of snow whizzing past. I waited for the rider to come back, the dapple horse was certainly no race horse, it was a colossal stocky creature, with eyes more wild than the mountain wolves. Yet it managed to keep up with the other horses. The cloak of its rider drapped over its behind, the black exacerbated by the colour contrast. The man made the horse look small, his body's build was pure muscle, pure danger.

I swallowed hard, hopefully my arrow would hit him, then the rest would be easy to pluck off. The whole wasn't big enough for an arrow and my eye so I opted to just randomly fire. I picked and arrow, its goose feathers ruffled, I brushed them between my finger nails, combing them back into place, and knocked up the arrow. I took a shallow breath as I aimed into the unknown, aiming high - where I remembered the riders to be. I fired.

There was no sound, the neigh of a horse, but that could have meant anything.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Slam!
The men fired back, their arrows rooting into the wood, but it wasn't them i worried about. A hands width from my face the head of a bolt stuck through the wood, if it had been a little to the left it would have hit me. How strong was the archer? None of the other arrows had pierced through the wood.
It wreaked of bloodbane, I dabbed by finger on it, yes it was wet. Whoever had fired this arrow had no intentions of taking hostages. It had to be the rider on the dappled horse no one else seemed strong enough to get it through the wood. I returned to Rowan. At least now I knew how many where out there, 14 arrows had hit the carriage. Which meant 14 riders.
Rowan was still unconcious, breathing lightly. I took the cloth off Vanir, twisting it so a clean part soaked up his blood, and there was a lot to soak up. Luckily it seemed to be getting less and less. I held my finger upto my lips to Vanir. What were we to do now? It was clearly obvious that I could not pick them off with arrows as I had hoped.