In the dead of the night, several shadows stirred in the valley, long dark shapes skimming seamlessly over darkness. The beasts padded through the fields creating small dark dust clouds in their wake. The shadows converged near the stream, they had beaten their pursuers. Or so they thought, as suddenly the valley exploded with shouts and screams of men and beasts, Sher's heart beat faster in his chest, his ears now ringing from the constant rush of blood.
Something had gone very wrong. Troops of cavalrymen descended on Sher's company, eager to be the first to claim the prize of 100 marks for the head of rebel leader.
"What now, Sher? We are surrounded." A shaken voice broke through the noise. The darkness cloaked his face, but who he addressed was known to all.
"Now we face our fortune, friend. We will run no longer, it's time to shed the blood of the tyrants who have plundered our land and taken our homes and soiled this beautiful valley with the blood of our brothers and sisters." Sher's words were loud enough for all the party to hear. Although normally soft spoken, he had no trouble raising his voice when the situation demanded it.
What followed was the sound of a sword leaving it's scabbard, first just the one. Then silence. Then the pursuers broke through the large hedges and circled their prey, jeering and shouting.
Only a moment of hesitation and the men followed their leader in unsheathing their swords.
"Go downstream and you will come to a clearing and a mud road that leads downhill, the stream there is shallow and safe to pass for horses. Go now, and do not look back." Sher's voice was urgent, trembling but still commanding. All men in that party knew what he was planning. It was the head of the rebel leader that the governor had wanted, and now he was about to have his wish.
"We cannot leave you." Several men broke in to spontaneous murmur, pleading and begging. Some broke down, they had been riding with the one men called Sher or Lion for a year now. They had raised the standard of rebellion in all the Salt Valley.
Blood and vengeance had been wrought on the invaders by this rebellion. Cries of vengeance now roared where once only lamentation had existed. But it all seemed to have fallen, the governor's trick had worked. He had masterfully lured Sher in the open and now had him trapped and isolated from the bulk of his loyal clansmen.
"We will live and die by your side, you cannot tell us to save ourselves. Our rebellion dies with you. Let us fight side by side and take as much of the enemy with us as we can!" Akbar pleaded.
"No, go forth to the encampment, rouse the men and bring them all here, I am not done yet". Guilt build up inside Sher as he contemplated what would become of his companions. These men were everything he admired, and expected of his men. Loyal, courageous, humble but tenacious. Now they would all die, and he would be unable to save them.
"You there, which one of you is the one who calls himself the Lion of the Salt Valley". A huge man at the head of the column, stepped forward and raised his arm. He moved forward on his warhorse, plated in armour and gold. The commander of the Rhul garrison, general Rhabir himself.
Consternation rang through the small troop of horsemen, now surrounded by all sides. A small while later, a man dismounted from his horse. He was of medium built, his green eyes blazed through the nightlight and the fires held aloft by the pursuers.
"I am."
The man stepped forward, inching closer to the General. He was dressed in a black plain tunic, with a brown leather cuirass adorning his broad shoulders. He removed his helm and dropped it on the floor. His hairs were black, with streaks of brown interwoven in to them like ropes. His beard was long and comely, and his disposition seemed relaxed, friendly even, if not for the sword that he held in his hand.
"So you are the man who has our governor up all night?" General Rhabir could not contain himself, for the man that stood before him seemed ordinary at best, his speech betrayed no great oratory skill, nor his manner of gazing inspired any confidence. His eyes were half-closed, and he only looked up when he spoke. "If your governor is so worried about his sleep, I can arrange for him to receive the gift of permanent sleep, only if he would meet me here man to man."
"Insolent welp! You stand surrounded by the Golden brigade and yet you threaten our chieftain?" General Rhabir advanced to meet this unassuming taunter.
"I know the fault in men like you, Sher." The two men slowly circled each other, the general on his horse and the rebel on foot, measuring the reach and determining their next moves.
"My life for the life of my men. I surrender myself to you and become your prisoner willingly, if you let my men go". Sher would do everything for a cause, but if a situation could be controlled in a way as to prevent the shedding of more blood, he would gladly take it.
To be continued... (Please excuse any typos or other stupidity. I have written this after coming back from work, so I am not completely sanitized yet.)
@Well.wisher Don't really know if this is what you expected.
excellently written
