The Shattered Path

Chapter 4 - The Storm

Lightning split open the dark night and thunder rolled across the frontier. The first raindrops splattered against the hard earth, heralding the downpour which followed. The soil drank deeply, becoming thick mud, caking Aryl's boots as it seemed to grab at his feet. He pulled his hood low over his face, squinting through the stinging rain. Jaegor's cloak flapped before him and he focused on the angry fabric rather than the weather or darkness.

Jaegor bellowed over his shoulder, "By the fifth sword of Vantaragos, this be the worst storm ever!" Water beaded in his beard and across his thick brows.

Aryl nodded and a gust whipped his hood back. He cupped a hand over his eyes and pulled his hood over his head once more, holding it there with the other hand. His cloak was heavy with water, soaking his shirt and pants, trickling down his back and legs to fill his boots. He had never experienced such a violent storm. Truthfully, he had never spent much time outside during one before. He had always had enough sense to go indoors before dark clouds could unleash such fury. Still, it seemed worse than any storm he could remember.

After trudging across several muddy hillsides, Jaegor finally dropped to one knee. Aryl stopped next to him, agreeing it was a good time to rest. Travel across the slippery terrain was strenuous and his leg muscles burned.

"I can't believe I'm so thirsty in the middle of this," Aryl chuckled. A gust of wind slapped away his smile with biting rain. He reached for his water skin, shielding his face with his arm to look at Jaegor, expecting to see the man doing the same.

Jaegor wasn't as thirsty; instead, the kneeling scout raised his bow and loosed an arrow up the hillside.

Aryl plunged his face into the storm to follow its flight. Blinking, he saw only darkness at first, but a flash of lightning revealed five humanoid figures near the top of the hill. He wasn't certain, but they could have been men.

In the next flash, they were closer, charging down the hillside.

Raindrops wet Aryl's tongue, though he was scarcely aware of his mouth gaping. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, eyes transfixed in the direction of the hilltop. He thought their skin might be brown or they wore leather. After a moment, he realized they were not men! Sharp fangs shone white in the lightning flash, threatening from their open mouths. They were covered in brown fur, darkened with rain. Howls filled the breaks in rumbling thunder.

Lightning flashed again. One beastman had disappeared into the muddy terrain, likely with an arrow in it. The remaining four continued the charge

"The Dark take this wind!" Jaegor cursed, dropping his bow and drawing a sword in each hand.

Aryl drew his sword. He shifted his feet to assume a defensive fighting stance, sliding a few hand-widths down the hill. Excitement flooded his veins. Rain stung his eyes though he refused to blink. Each burst of lightning overhead left a deeper darkness in its wake, though he knew the enemy had to be near. He was going to battle beastmen! It was like living the stories he had heard during his childhood! Stories that he had never wanted any part of!

Metal and wood clattered together in the night, rising above the wind and thunder. Aryl felt his stomach churning. The battle had begun. Weakness seeped into his legs and arms. He gritted his teeth against rising fear. He would do his part. He wouldn't let Jaegor down. He scanned the darkness for the enemy, fingers tight on his hilt, fearful of losing his grip in the rain. The wind tried to push him sideways, even pressing at the flat side of his blade.

Lightning burst above and a beastman exploded from the darkness, howling and swinging its stone axe. Aryl flung himself backwards and the mud pulled at his feet. The head of the axe fell short, but caught his flapping cloak. He continued backwards, off-balance, landing on his back to splash in a puddle, and sharp rocks dug into his shoulder.