Run
to the hills
7/4/10,122 - Ust-Alayakit, Thail Mountains
As Tharla, Kilite & Illyra are escorted into the village of the Ust-Alayakit the sun finally drops below the horizon, the eagle riders high above, peel away before darkness engulfs the sky.
Preparations are well in hand for departure the next day however Molin takes the time to introduce Illyra & Kilite to the village elders, telling storey of their recent encounter. Sighing Jastus, first servant of Ust, welcomes them & tells those gathered that these are sorry times for the clan, never before has the strength of the feathered ones & their allies been so heavily thrown against them, but survive they must for if they do not who will care for Ust's sons & daughters.
Later that night as the four sit around the fire, unsure where or what to do next, they agree to travel with Molin's adopted clan into the high mountains. Molin, comfortable with this decision, bathes in the warmth of his adopted clan, as he relaxes he tells the others that whilst they were away from the camp he spoke at some length with Mavor Geadrol, Shaman of his people, having served the geas placed upon him by the clan, Mavor has now bestowed the rites of free clan birth upon Molin. He also tells that he has told Mavor somewhat of their passage through the legendary Athalau, Mavor was at first dubious of the tale however when Molin, keen to learn its power, shows him the eight pointed talisman taken from the deserted city, Mavor is less inclined to dismiss his storey. Interested in the talisman Mavor advises he has no time to study its nature now but he would be happy, if Molin was to leave it with him, to look at it another time, all things considered Molin declines the offer.
Hearing Molin's confession, Tharla demands to know if Molin has spoken of the disc strung about her neck, thinking back Molin is unsure, however he eventually recalls that whilst it was mentioned in passing he is sure that he didn't say who was wearing it. Tharla, holding her hand forth, takes the talisman from Molin & slowly gathers & then releases her will into the charm. Some half an hour later Tharla's eyes flicker & she gingerly hands the talisman back to Molin telling him,
"Immortality, of sorts, if you die wearing this, this abomination, you will walk again, but, & it's a big but, not as a human, but as some kind of, well to put it simply, a stepson of Teorris, Lord of the Underworld"
Fingering the amulet Molin comes to a decision & slips it around his neck.
Illyra, generosity itself, happily shares some of her precious weed with a number of Ust-Alayakit, is oblivious to the passage of time lost in her own drug-induced world. Kilite, wishing to learn more of the devotes of UST, quietly rises from the fire & goes in search of Mavor, surprisingly Mavor does not dismiss Kilite's devotion to Jirre & is happy to discuss the gods, albeit as he secures the shamanistic paraphernalia of his calling from the walls.
Early next morning the clan gather under a brooding sky beneath the watch of several circling eagle riders high above. With sled disassembled & slung across the back of a grumbling Gunter, the village is abandoned & the two hundred plus villagers begin to make their way into the peaks above.
As morning rolls into afternoon, the party are ever conscious of the circling riders above, never dropping within missile range, the riders tease those below, dropping then rising near vertically to continue their watch. By mid afternoon more eagles are noticed, some carrying a second rider.
Gradually it dawns on those below that the eagles cargo is being dropped somewhere ahead of the train however on the steeply climbing winding trail it is impossible to see more than thirty yards or so ahead, grimly all press ahead ever watchful.
A few minutes later a runner from the rear warns of troops following the trail, not burdened with the paraphernalia of every day life they are quickly gaining on the Ust-Alayakit. A hurried discussion results in the decision to leave a rear guard to try & slow down the encroaching advance before the anticipated ambush ahead can be sprung.
Some minutes later the Molin, Ilyra Kilite, Tharla & three bear clan warriors crouch in a cleft around a sharp corner on the narrow trail, to their backs a steeply rising bluff, whilst below an endless drop to the foothills. On the trail in full view of the approaching troops a young lad nervously crouches as if fastening a loose drawstring. At the last second he bolts as shouts are heard bellowing from below, several spears thud into the dirt as he sprints towards the silently waiting ambush.
As one, two, three then eight troops come panting in pursuit around the bend the ambush is sprung, Tharla unleashes the blinding power of the sun from her sword closely followed by a gout of flame from Kilite's staff, Illyra not wishing to be left out raises a spell fire upon her naked blade & charges into the fray. As blade & spear clash, momentarily some discomfort crosses Tharla's mind, there initial blaze of power should have devastated the surprised troops, but it didn't, fate truly does not shine upon the righteous this day.
Molin, two handed axe raised high, screams the ancestral cry of his clan, if die he must, then today is as good a day as any, slashing at the nearest opponent to him, his blow goes wide of the mark & he looks on in horror as his foe lunges forward, the spearhead piercing & then ripping the helm from his head, with blood streaming down his face Molin presses forward against the grinning oaf to his flank.
Despite their bad luck the fight is soon over, of the eight antagonists, five are dead, two dying & one sprinting back down the trail, Molin will carry the scars for many a year whilst Kilite will require some minor medication.
Not wishing the lone runner to alert those below Illyra raises her fist & points, calling forth the power of her ring, to late however she stumbles turning her ankle on a loose stone, cursing she looks up only to see the bastard turn the corner, dumbfounded Kilite, seeing Illyra's misfortune takes up the chase only to loose his own balance & slide to a halt face staring down into space. Grimacing he picks his battered body from the dirt & stoops to collect his dropped staff. As he turns he catches a sound, slowly he picks out the tramp of feet, many feet, looking back, troops wend into view maybe two hundred yards or so below.
Molin, blood dripping from his brow, stands with Tharla above the dying troopers, quickly Tharla forces answers from them, pleading for his life one of the troopers tries to tell them how many troops follow, alas when your luck is bad, its bad, the trooper fingers held aloft in their face, can't count. Frustrated Molin grunts under the effort & contemptuously swings his axe, once then twice, the heads of the two roll to away gather dirt as the blood congeals; one disappears over the edge of the trail.
Kilite, limping around the point shakes his head & suggests they move on, sooner rather than later.