Whispers Of Peace And War

22

22

The arrows flew at such speed, that Mythrd almost lost them in their flight, but, as the metal piles, that Mythrd knew would strike true, pierced the invisible barrier their speed faltered. Before the arrows could reach Mythrd and Kaninzir, their flight slowed, wavered and then the arrows fell to the ground, short by only a couple of feet.

Mythrd felt a pain in the palms of his hands. He looked down to see blood where his fingernails had dug into his skin and he realised how terrified he was. But he had not moved. Nor had Kaninzir. The old Priest continued to stare at Juraang, as though daring him to send another shower of arrows their way. Mythrd hoped they would not.

Juraang did not seem surprised. After all, it seemed he had seen this type of occurrence before, as he had seen Kaninzir before. With an almost casual flick of the wrist, he ordered more arrows to fire towards the barrier and Mythrd and Kaninzir. This time, the Chief's warriors hesitated even longer, uncertain of what had happened to their first attack, fearing this strange magic that stymied their efforts.

But Juraang would not countenance their pause, with a growl, he grabbed one warrior's arm, lifting her bow to firing height and giving her a menacing look that only leaders could make. With a glance at her Chief, then at the other warriors by her side, she began to draw her bow once more, the others following her example.

Before the archers could loose another volley, a shriek came from behind them, in the darkness of the night. A figure seemed to appear from nowhere, light of the torches glinting from shining steel. A sword clattered against the first bows the figure came towards, notching wood, snapping strings. Arrows fell to the ground as the figure rushed onwards.

In the same instant, Agarang's arms came loose from his bindings, Fursang stood behind him holding a knife and the remains of the ropes. Together, Agarang and Fursang leapt into action, grabbing Juraang by one arm each and dragging him towards the standing stones. As Juraang fought back against Agarang and Fursang, the figure added their weight and, within seconds, the three had dragged Juraang beyond the edge of the stones, past the invisible barrier, dropping to the ground beside Mythrd and Kaninzir.

Juraang struggled against the bodies that held him to the ground, but even a mighty warrior of his standing had difficulty. Soon, the third figure, Gythryn, had flipped the man onto his front, dragging his arms behind him and bound his arms, as he had had his son's arms bound. All the while, Kaninzir had continued to stare out towards the company of Gaeradine warriors, watching the shock of the incident ripple through them.

"Now, Father, we can talk." Grabbing Juraang by the collar of his leather breast plate, sat atop a coat of mail, Agarang dragged his father to his knees, turning him to face his warriors.

"You are no son of mine." Juraang spat dirt from his mouth, to the side, and glared at Agarang. Mythrd had to admire the man's calm in such a situation. "Consorting with the enemy. Heathens. Cattle. Good for nothing but dying by their thousands. This is not the end you believe it to be."

"Not an end, Great Chief." Mythrd couldn't help himself. Something urged him to enter the conversation. He crouched before the man. "But it can be a beginning. Look to your son. Do you think he would betray his people on a whim? I have come to know Agarang and if there is one thing that I know for certain, it is that he loves his people."

Juraang curled a lip in a mixture of amusement and distaste. His eyes slid towards Agarang and then carried on, taking in all those around him. Fursang, Gythryn, Mythrd and then Kaninzir. For Kaninzir, the Chief held his greatest contempt, sneering at the old man and spitting once again, this time towards Kaninzir's sandalled feet. Kaninzir, for his part, glanced at the spit and then returned his eyes to the warriors beyond the barrier.