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Windhammer, Copyright Wayne Densley 2001 - 2007 All Rights Reserved
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470
 No matter the consequences you cannot leave someone to the mercy of the Hordim. Quickly you mount Pallenten and once again turn her along the course of the stream. On the soft ground you move carefully but within a few hundred metres the tracks leave the edges of the water and turn northwards, out of the creek bed and onto open ground. Before you is again the endless grassland and carefully you search the horizon for any sign of the moving warband. There is no hint of the Hordim, only the clear tracks of the creatures running directly into the advancing storm.
For a moment you bring Pallenten to a halt and search the way ahead more carefully. Only a short distance from your position there is a wide area of trampled grass and carefully you coaxe your horse towards it. What you find brings you no joy.
At the centre of the circle of flattened grass is a crumpled and bloodied form. It is a young Kalborean man, outfitted as a wagon-hand and no doubt the captive once held, and now discarded, by the Hresh. Carefully you turn the body onto its back and look closely for the cause of the man's death. The Kalborean is fit looking and suntanned but the drawn expression on his face, and the wounds he has received to his hands and heels tell a straightforward story of his demise. For some reason unknown to you the Hresh took this man captive then forced him to keep pace with them on their run northwards. There are few men who can maintain such a relentless advance and it would be inevitable that he would falter. The Hresh must have then dragged him, but only as far as they were prepared to take him. It takes only a cursory search of the body to find a single stab wound under the Kalborean's left armpit. Unable to keep up he had been executed and left for the crows.
Quickly you gather together a collection of large stones and build a shallow cairn of rock over the body. You have no time to bury him but the stones will keep the young man safe from all but the most persistent of scavengers. There is nothing more you can do except stand for a moment and ponder the harsh reality of your own mortality, before mounting Pallenten and turning her sharply back towards the west. Perhaps you think, your own death may lie somewhere ahead. It is a question however, that only the Fates have the answer for.
Within the grip of a strengthening wind Pallenten gallops on, the plains beneath her thundering hooves slowly changing as you rush westwards. From the deep soft earth of the plains the ground becomes harder and the grasses sparser. To the south and west large, stony outcrops of boulders have begun to appear, huge piles of granite that thrust out of the plains like they have been discarded there by giants. There is still a long way to go and from the north the storm is starting to bear down. You will have to find shelter soon.
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This book, and its associated books and other documents in the Chronicles of Arborell series are the intellectual property of the author, Wayne F Densley, and all rights are reserved by him. Windhammer is best viewed at 1024 x 768 resolution. Any questions regarding the Chronicles of Arborell can be answered by emailing the author at densleyw@shoal.net.au
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Windhammer, Copyright Wayne Densley 2001 - 2007 All Rights Reserved
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