Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 7 - Oakhart Keep

Aranon burst into action, running to the shuttered window which looked out into the courtyard. Throwing back the curtains and opening the shutters, through the early morning light just starting to pour over the battlements, he could see the main gates, still smouldering from fire and burst wide open.
The clamour came from the courtyard itself, where his guards, the forest Rangers he hired, and apparently several of the villagers from Oakhart itself, including some women, were battling a superior Horde of orcs and goblins.
And losing...
The Hordes were fighting their way from the gate to the Keep's watchtower, which sat on the bluff overhanging the village below. Aranon knew this tower intimately, having been forced to jump from it in one of the artificer Kaspin Wierd's flying machines, when pursued by Fax's soldiery long, long ago during the Civil War.
The shrine was on the first floor of the keep, and the watchtower could only be reached at ground level from the courtyard, or through a secret door, which only he knew about, from the parapets.
"I do believe," Aranon said as he turned to the others, "that is clobbering time, gentlemen. Let us ensure that it is not our good selves and our friends who are being clobbered. I have offensive spells - well, offensive to the enemy anyway - but I need a good vantage point and I need some protection. Lets make for the battlements!"
Glancing out the window as Aranon darted off out the door, Eloi looked at the scene below.
"Considering my ethnic origins I do not particularly think it wise go off a-wandering by myself," he thought.
"So, big man," he said to the priest as he ran behind him, "what's the plan of action? I suggest that the best course of action would be to join the general melee below. A missile attack from above would cause only friendly fire casualties."
"Wise comments," Aranon replied, bounding up the stairs two at a time. "However it looks like something is happpening in the watchtower - and its an important strategic point. Lets get in there."
As they reached the top of the stairs, Aranon gave his quarterstaff a preparatory whirl, only just missing his colleagues, and pressed on out of a door to the left, which led to the battlements. As he opened the door to the battlements, the frantic shouting became louder, and the bitter cold of the early morning bit into them. Stepping out they felt the strong winds there, the ones that Kaspin enthused about to Aranon over dinner, often making it easier for him to fall asleep.
Looking down into the courtyard, Aranon could see the wave of humanoids would soon overpower his men at the gate. With a careful look, he closed his eyes and whispered the prayer that almost instantly formed a whirling dome of blades about gate, blocking the way of the humanoids, and shredding many of their number in an instant.
At first, in the poor light, Aranon was unsure what it was that he could see over at Kaspin's watchtower - a large dark shape looming above the circular tower. He paused as he traced its form - a large, almost circular, 'bladder' over a woven basket, attached to each other by ropes. Within the basket, a small fierce fire burned, lighting up the face of Kaspin Wierd who stood within. Then, as he moved to cut the ropes, Aranon saw the Priest Farravel, shielding Elouera in his arms, also standing within the basket.
The realisation slowly dawned on him.
"By the Hierarch's Horns - one of his damned flying contraptions!!!"
There was a pounding noise coming from the top of the tower, and as he cut the last rope, the contraption slowly levitated off the tower roof. Aranon again began to run along the battlement, the contraption now about ten feet up, when he saw the other figures come into view on the roof - probably from the trap door that led there. Three humanoids, probably orcs, had emerged into view. As the device lifted away from them, Aranon saw two of them raise bows to fire into the basket.
Suddenly there was a flash of light from his left and intense pain struck him - glancing into the courtyard, Aranon saw a dark-cloaked figure who was not there before - short in stature, with its features covered by its clothing, but the outstretched hands appeared human. In its right hand it held a scroll, and from the fingertips of its left, more magic missiles streamed up at him, wracking Aranon's body with fiery pain.
Up above, as the wind caught the flying contraption, it quickly floated off south-west - it moved out of their view as the archers on the tower fired off a couple of arrows at it. He could not see if they hit.
In the courtyard, two floors below, the battle continued. Aranon's men seemed to be in control of the remaining humanoids that were now trapped by the whirling blades. Three of them headed towards the mysterious spellcaster.
"Poor bastards about to tackle the mage are in trouble," Aranon thought.
"Give me some cover chaps, at the very least keep that vicious bugger pinned down with some missile fire!"
As Aranon prepared another spell, Eloi brushed past him, heading for the watchtower.
Bermen prepared his bow, and loosed an arrow as Aranon prepared to cast a magical light to blind the mage in the courtyard.
The mage's cloak swirled and shimmered as he scribed wierd sigils in the air - there was no doubt that he was casting some other foul dweomer. He threw a shimmering dust to the air...and nothing happened. Aranon smiled as he begin to cast his spell, then mentally forced himself to ignore his disappointment, as the men running towards the mage struck an invisible wall, and a sure arrow from Bermen's bow glanced off this barrier.

Although slightly rounded, the watchtower wall had many hand and foot holds of suitable size for an ace 'crimpeur' such as Eloi, and within seconds he was nearing the top, ignoring the sounds of battle from below.
As he peered over the top, he saw three orcs atop the tower, two with bows cocked, the third, a larger orc, standing sword drawn and bloodied. The archer orcs let loose their arrows, and Eloi saw their target - the flying machine!
One arrow went completely askew, striking the inflated 'bladder' above the basket, but the other went straight as any straight thing that ever went exceedingly straight - in an instant, Eloi saw the man holding the girl he presumed to be Elouera, and the arrow landed true as they both fell to the floor of the basket, out of sight. He could not be sure if it hit the man or the girl!
Lowering himself down slightly, Eloi shouted to Aranon, who seemed to have just cast a pretty light behind the mage.
"Aranon, get up here!"
Without waiting to see the priest's response, Eloi pulled himself quickly over the edge, again drawing his flail. The archer orcs were notching two more arrows, chortling heartily to themselves. The fatboy orc, who was closest to him, was grunting commands to them, waving his sword about. They all had their backs turned, and none had noticed Eloi!
The flying machine, which was quickly moving out of their range due to the high wind carrying it away, was now losing height!
Softly, Eloi strolled up behind the unsuspecting fool - it was almost too easy to be this much fun. With a swift strike, the first orc was dead, his head cracked in two. He slumped to the ground and the other two, bows still cocked, turned at the noise. For a split second they stood in shock, staring at their dead leader and Eloi. Not for long, as Eloi took a swipe quickly at the nearest one - catching him full across the face, his blow taking its left hand side away.

"A Wall of Force! Damn," Aranon cried to Bermen, "even a flame strike will not get through. Quick, to the watchtower!
Aranon ran over to the secret door, forgetting the wizard below, barely pausing as he depressed the catch and shoulder-charged the door. The windows were shuttered in this second floor room, where Kaspin stored his machines and parts, but the room was lit from the trap door opening above, where the wooden stairs led.
Belting up the stairs, he came onto the roof just in time to see Eloi whallop an orc archer full in the face with his flail, almost taking the orc's head off. Behind him lay the crumpled body of another larger orc, with his brains oozing out from the remains of his cranium too. It seemed like Eloi had been hard at work.
As Bermen clumped up the stairs behind him, the final orc stood there pointing his bow, with arrow notched and ready, between Aranon and Eloi, unsure of where he wanted to aim it.
Behind the orc, over the wooded valley, Aranon saw Kaspin's flying device, but only one person standing within the basket. The device seemed to have stopped gaining height. Something caught his eye to the left, and there, flying of his own accord towards the device, was the mage from the courtyard!
At that rate he would reach the flying device very soon!
Eloi pointed to something behind the Orc, looking shocked and shouted out in Orcish, "Oh my god, look out, a dragon, every man for himself," as he brought his flail down on the orc's chest, smashing its bow as he did so - Aranon then lunged and cracked his skull in two.
Turning to the mage, he was getting much closer to the device, which was about fifty yards away. Kaspin Wierd was still the only person they could see in the basket - no sign of Farravel or Elouera.
Bermen, standing behind him, saw the flying contraption for the first time, muttering, "By the Hounds of Kelanen!"
The battle still seemed to be ongoing in the courtyard, but the battle cries were mainly from human voices now. Two of Aranon's Oakhart rangers ran up the stairs, and were staring at the scene before them. One of them glanced over at the flying machine, shaking his head, saying, "So, he finally got it to work this time!"
This did not restore Aranon's confidence.
As Aranon began to cast another spell, Eloi spoke to the ranger who had spoken.
"Who do you mean, and by it I take it to be the flying contraption?"
The ranger grinned oafishly and pointed over the tower's edge to the right.
"Look over there," he said.
Eloi looked over the edge, peering down to the village which lay two-hundred feet under the cliffs and across the Fax Waters. There, in the forest, stuck in the trees beyond the village was a pile of silk-like material and a basket that looked vaguely familiar - kind of like a deflated flying device.
"The last time," he declared.
As Eloi turned to Aranon, he saw that he was finishing a spell.
The mage levelled off ten yards from the device, to their left, and gestured to Kaspin - Aranon heard him say something in a demanding tone.
"Ideal!" he thought. "Now just hold still a moment - this will hurt!"
With a prayer he called down his fire, ignoring the babbling voices behind.
The column of fire ripped down, surrounding the mage, whom he saw momentarily drawing up his arms to cover his hooded face. As the pillar of smoke cleared, the mage was tumbling towards the forest, his cloak blazing with fire as he disappeared beneath the tree line, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Aranon allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction, before returning his frantic thoughts to Elouera.
The flying device, catching a thermal from the flames, rose slightly, then pulled quickly away from the Keep as it caught a higher cross-current. It moved swiftly away to the south-east.
The sun was now completely up and the day had begun in earnest.

"Nice shot my man, lets hope that's him out of the way for some time," Eloi said with his usual sense of tact.
Aranon cast a quick healing spell on himself and one of his wounded rangers. Eloi clapped his hands with glee. At last some real action! He slapped Bermen on the back and looked at the two soldiers.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get us a flying machine, a wizard and rescue the fair maiden at the same time." He turned to one of the soldiers, saying "Get your men ready in the courtyard and have mounts waiting for us. The only sack of hot air I've been following lately has been Jean-Paul."
The soldier looked at Aranon.
Aranon watched as the flying device drifted ever further away, and he reckoned that it was slowly losing height. This was definitely somewhat worrying, as he noticed Kaspin's previous device hanging from the trees by the village where it crashed.
As he turned to descend to the courtyard, Aranon noticed a pillar of smoke to the south-west, and then saw through it that the Hordelings had set fire to the wooden watchtower which he had erected a couple of hundred yards from the Keep on the road down to the village.
"We're going to need some cover for the gate for when the barrier comes down," he told them as they made their way down the stairs, "as well as a quick sweep of the place for any remaining humanoids, followed by some sort of force to head down to the village."
As they reached the courtyard, the sight was heartening - the enemy were defeated, and Aranon's men were now finishing off the enemy's wounded and dying, taking their own casulaties away into the main keep. Aranon led the party and his soldiers down from the elevated platform of the first floor out to the courtyard.
He immediately noticed a couple of village folk in the centre, where the mage was - they were poking and prodding at the wall of force that remained there. It was apparently shaped into a hemisphere - which begged the question, how did he get out?
Some men shouted greetings to Aranon, others fell to their knees at his presence. One man recognised him from afar, and quickly strode over. As he got closer Aranon recognised him as Tharhymm, the leader of his Oakhart rangers. He walked briskly over, then knelt in front of him, bowing his head.
"M'Lord, welcome back to Oakhart and fortuitous timing indeed!" he said. He smiled and rose back to his feet. He was slightly injured, and his clothes suggested he had been fighting for some time.
"They came at dusk last night," Tharhymm continued, "Attacking the village. As we fought them off down there, a messenger came from the keep to tell us they were attacking the wooden watchtower on the road. I took half the men and some villagers came too, and we forced our way past, then covered for the guards to fall back from the tower into the keep. We held almost all night, but that wizard, the one who attacked you from the courtyard, he appeared and blasted open the gates, calling down lightning. Then they breached the gates and, well, you know the rest! If you had not arrived when you did, sire!"
"Hmmm, that mage again!" thought Aranon
"Round up the men, Tharhymm," Aranon commanded. "Leave enough to care for the wounded and bring the rest. We must ensure the village is secure before pursuing my daughter and that infernal fool Kaspin!"
He nodded, then turned and left to do so, Bermen also going with him to help. From the guards above the gate, Aranon gathered they had no sight of the humanoids, who had fallen back into the woods - whether they had left or not, they could not be sure.

As they walked off, Bermen introduced himself to the young ranger.
"A fellow ranger," he said. "I am pleased to meet you, Bermen Zladek. I am, as you may have heard, Tharhymm Gannt, a Courser in our fine brotherhood of the forest ways."
Quickly they set about finding the least injured of the men, returning to Aranon who was helping the wounded while he waited.
They had assembled eleven men - three of them were Aranon's rangers - not rangers in the sense of Bermen and Tharhymm, but above-average soldiers skilled in the forest ways. The rest were ordinary soldiers, plus two concerned villagers. The fire on the front gates, little more than a surface burn, had gone out, but Aranon's whirling wall of blades still remained.
The watchmen had still seen no sign of the humanoid Horde, and with caution Aranon cancelled the blade barrier, after his man took up defensive positions. Waiting, nothing happened, and after a couple of minutes Bermen and Tharhymm led the men out into the clearing in front of the Keep. Then Aranon and Eloi emerged, and together they cautiously walked down to the village, past the burning watchtower, without event.
As they entered the village, they saw wagons thrown across the street as a hasty barricade, and movement behind it. A couple of the outlying cottages had been burnt down, and still smouldered. A guard at the barricade popped his head up, and stood amazed for a moment. Then, he screamed out at the top of his lungs.
"We are saved! He is here, our Lord is here to save us!"
He vaulted over the barricade and ran towards Aranon, followed by half the villagers, men, women, children and various animals. If this was all that remained, Aranon surmised, there must have been over a dozen dead.
As he entered the village proper, he saw them!

Aklaw, the village headman, approached from the barricade at the far side. As he firmly grasped Aranon's hand, almost as though afraid to let go, he said, "I knew you would come - I told them you would!"
A tear came to the old man's eye, and Aranon clasped his other hand over their grasp.
He motioned over to the dead, whispering.
"We have seventeen dead, that we know of - one entire family massacred. And then there's the eighty or so folk in outlying steadings. I fear for them M'Lord. I truly fear for them."
Aranon shook his head, and asked Aklaw what had happened.
"One of the boys from Halkensen's steading ran in just after dark last night and said they were under attack by orcs. We sent messengers to the keep, and by the time the soldiers came we had put up the barriers. It weren't long after that they came - swarms of 'em. It were all we could do to keep 'em back. Then someone comes down from the keep to say its been attacked, and some soldiers went back up. We fought them for another hour or so, then they sounded this horn, pulled back, and never came for any more! After that, 'bout an hour later, you came an' that's that."
Something worried Aranon that they didn't finish what they could have done so easily.

Bermen came over.
"Death Moon Orcs, from the Pomarj," he told Aranon. "Can't see them attacking by day, mayhaps we should make some pursuit after the flying device. How do you propose we follow it?"
Aranon thought hard about it - the forest was concealing the device's whereabouts, so they only had a rough direction to follow. There were few paths to the south-west, so it would be hard mileage to gain, and they would often have to cut their own path.
He cleared his throat of the smoke that had lodged there, and spoke out to the villagers.
"Men, the attack on the village was but a distraction to pull our men away from the keep. I fear the real target of this mage is my daughter. Quick, let us give chase and prepare ourselves for a fight."
He paused a second.
"And if we find him, be careful. He will have plenty of magic tricks left."
Screwing his features into his 'thinking face', Bermen turned to Aranon.
"Tharhymm has told me that there are few paths to the south-west, so I suggest that he and I take the lead and do the route finding."
Aranon nodded, and arranged for one of the rangers and four soldiers to accompany him. Bermen swiftly prepared for the journey, sheathing his sword and removing his Hornblade knife
Tharhymm looked at him as he flicked out the blade. He grinned.
"Impressive knife, but keep that sword out, it may be of more use! The forest is quite dense ahead. I think for the most though we will move through it on our own, ahead as you suggest."
Bermen agreed and unsheathed the mighty bastard sword again.
Once into the woods, Bermen quickly daubed his face with the mud of the forest floor, adding local vegetation to his dull clothing.
"Now for some cat and mouse," he thought with a mental grin.
"I suggest we take turns on point," he told Tharhymm, "using bird calls to signal problems and let us know where we are. I will start a half mile from the party, you go in between."
"When I signal, you repeat it, and my man will tell the party what is going on," he replied.
"You realise my Lord," he continued, looking over to Aranon, "that we will be lucky to get more than ten or fifteen miles a day in the Suss?"
Aranon nodded, muttering, "So be it!"
The two rangers agreed their bird calls and set off ahead of the party. A short while on, Tharhymm set on ahead, and about and a minute later Bermen heard his first call. He relayed it back to the main party, who were, from the dreadful noise they made, still behind them.

For hours they travelled on, stopping at any sign of likely danger, Bermen and Tharhymm changing position every so often. They had found a small trail leading in the right direction for a while, and lunched in a clearing. Aranon seemed very preoccupied, but better for actually doing something, and Eloi was trying, unsuccessfully, to cheer him up. They set off again, and lost the trail shortly after.
Next break, Tharhymm returned in and pointed out to Aranon that it would soon be too far to return to the keep before nightfall.
Aranon snapped, "Then we stay out! We stay out until we find her!"
Realising his mood, he lowered his tone and added, "They need us, Tharhymm. Who will save them from the Hordes but us?"
Tharhymm reluctantly nodded, and again the two rangers set off, Bermen in the lead.

And so it went on, and Bermen could see that the sun was about to set, although under the canopy of the trees it was getting dark already.
Suddenly, a strange smell caught his attention! Smoke!
He followed it, and it grew stronger, but not overpowering. Then Bermen saw the faint tendrils of wispy smoke floating towards him, and called Tharhymm to stop. He heard his reply, and that of the other ranger.
Slowly, he moved on, and found himself on the edge of the clearing, around a small burn.
There, lying half in the stream, scorched black and almost totally burnt out, lay the flying device.
He could not see anyone around, and cautiously he patrolled the perimeter of the clearing. Then, slowly, Bermen stepped into the clearing, moving slowly over to the device.
It looked as though it had caught fire, then fell through the trees to his place, the burn putting out the flames.
Searching through its wreckage, Bermen found there was no-one there. He quickly called on the others, and first Tharhymm, then the others, came into the clearing.

Aranon looked distraught as he surveyed the wreckage. There was blood within the unburned part of the basket. He stood, staring at it, gently shaking his head. A sharp sound to Bermen's left, across the burn, drew his attention, and from Tharhymm's reaction he had noticed it too.
The party jumped at their obvious alarm, and Tharhymm silently signalled them to be quiet.
Then they heard another twig snap, and the grunt of someone trying to speak.
Bermen, then Aranon, rushed over the burn, weapons drawn, to a bush. As he approached it Bermen realised it was actually a tangled mixture of two plants, arranged hastily. Under the jumbled mess of torn branches lay a man, a badly burnt man, with the head of an arrow stuck in his arm. He was dressed in the robes of an Olidamarran priest.
"Farravel!" Aranon yelled."Farravel, what happened, where is Elouera? Where are they?"
The dying man tried to speak, and Bermen put his arm across Aranon to keep him from the priest.
"He is badly injured, Aranon!"
The tears of frustration streamed down Aranon's face, which was bursting red. He took a deep breath and, grasping his holy symbol, muttered the words of some prayer, passing his hands over the injured priest. Instantly the wounds started to heal, and the man's breathing eased. Then the priest slipped into unconsciousness, to be wakened by Aranon's gentle shaking.
"Farravel, Farravel, you must tell us where they are - what has happened to Elouera and Kaspin?"
Farravel's eyes flickered open, the smoky haze of death now gone.
"Lord Aranon, my Lord, am I dead?"
Aranon remained calm for a moment.
"Not yet Farravel, but if you don't tell me soon where my daughter is I may undo my own healing and bash your stupid head in!"
Aranon's soft voice had raised to a crescendo as her lost patience with the injured priest, and he jerked upright, fully awake.
"Kaspin's machine, the orc shot me and we fell to the floor of the basket, and we were losing height and he managed to keep us up to get away but we crashed and I was burned when it caught fire, and they covered me and left and Kaspin took the girl and covered me in case the orcs came and they went but I don't know where they are!"
Aranon paused, then reached down to the panicking man's arm and pulled out the arrowhead, causing Farravel to yelp, then pass out from the pain. Aranon sighed.
"Yammech," he said to one of the Oakhart rangers, "You and the soldiers take him back to the Keep. We will carry on after the others."
"If you rangers can track him," he said, motioning to Bermen and Tharhymm.
Suddenly, Eloi, who had been milling around the edge of the clearing, stepped over to Aranon.
He held out his hands, in which lay a scorched and battered-looking child's poppet. Aranon seemed to recognise it.
"I found it over there," he said. "Looks like they went off to the south!"
Bermen looked around at the forest.
"Aranon, I don't think we should wait for morning. Tracking your daughter by night carries its own dangers but I think we should press on now. Undoubtedly we shall have to travel more slowly but at least we will be closer to them and better able to hear if there are others closing in on them too. I think none of us can sleep well knowing your daughter is still out there. Come..."
In the failing light, Bermen gave the site a thorough search for any other signs: false trails or pursuit.
He stooped swiftly to the ground and offered a quick prayer to Kelanen.
"Lord, grant me keen senses tonight to find a true trail and keep me from mine enemies. Watch over Lord Aranon's daughter and let her not fall into the vile hands of her pursuers."
As Bermen prayed, Eloi spoke to Aranon regarding the decision to carry on.
"Aranon it seems that it is you who have lost all in this sorry affair and you have my heartfelt sympathies and my sworn allegiance to your cause. In this case I leave the decision behind our pursuit of your daughter and her kidnappers to you and your council. I do not care how we travel, whatever road we shall take will be dangerous, whatever times that we travel in will be dark times, I do not care what perils we may face."
He turned to Bermen and Tharhymm as they searched around in the near darkness.
"I am most at home at night and would quite gladly travel during the hours of darkness. However as this would seem to be more a trait of my gene pool, I realise that your kind do not like the dark and what it may hide. I therefore suggest that I employ my scouting skills and travel ahead of you, that way if I detect any danger on our pursuit I will be able to warn you in good time. I fear that the one we pursue does not share you apprehension of the dark and that each hour lost means he will be further ahead and in a position to strengthen his hand."
"I thank you all for your support," Aranon said. "We must make haste 'fore all is lost."
Bermen reported that they had checked out the area, and determined that Eloi had indeed found the true trail - one man carrying a heavy object. Unfortunately it was too dark to follow the trail by sight, and Bermen would need to employ some sort of magical light - and that would attract the enemy no end. Aranon told him that he could provide him with a continual light.
"I don't think this is wise at all!" Tharhymm said emphatically. "I have said naught so far, but I feel I must speak now! The orcs can see in the dark, and will have no lights. We will draw them in to us like moths to a flame - and what use are we to Elouera if we are dead! We have been awake and fighting for two days now with no sleep our men will fall asleep easy Lord Bermen. I think we must all wait here overnight and move in the morning."
Aranon was pondering his words, obviously trusting his henchman, but possessed of a desire to move on.
"You know the Suss, my lord," he continued. "It is unsafe at best, but with the Hordes abroad...."
Tharhymm shook his head.
"From my knowledge of orcs, they will be taking the opportunity afforded by darkness and will be swamping this area looking for their quarry. The tired soldiers are unlikely to be able to put up much of a fight against the orcs who can see."
Aranon turned to the others.
"I agree men, we should travel through the night. But the forests are dangerous and we should close up the formation, except for the advance scouts. "
Tharhymm again shook his head as Aranon stopped speaking.
"On your head be it," he said angrily. "But I fail to see what tired, blind fools can find in the Suss moving at a snail's pace."
He looked at Bermen, saying, "I will take point, you stay with the party and do the tracking. But you will need at least one light. If you wish to join me in the fore, master Eloi, then your sight will be welcome."
He strode off into the failing light, with Eloi trailing behind. Everyone got the feeling that Tharhymm did not regard this as a wise venture.

Slowly they moved off, having trouble following the trail in the darkness. Aranon then cast a spell of light on a branch for Bermen to track by. Luckily, the vegetation was thick here, so it is not so hard to see Kaspin's trail! Still, Bermen was sure they were not even making a walking pace of three miles in an hour.
The sounds of the eerie Suss opened up with the night - the cracks and snaps of twigs and branches around you make it very unoerthly. Occasionally, Bermen thought he heard the chatter of voices, but put it down to the babbling of streams or the slowly rising wind. After what seemed an age of listening to every sound, jumping at every crack and snap, a bird call drifted back to him. Bermen held up his left hand, signalling Aranon to stop.
Looking back at him, he whispered, "Danger!"
Bermen pulled back the lit branch to hide it in his cloak.
He heard a snap, the chink of chain mail, the twang of a bowstring.
Suddenly the air was full of hissing, whining missiles, almost drowning out the light spell. Sharp pains stabbed all over his body as arrows and a crossbow bolts plunged through his armour, and numerous others bounced off. Glancing back at Aranon, he saw the priest he had two quarrels in his right leg.
Quickly, Bermen reckoned there were over twenty archers and crossbowyers firing on them, from all directions. He could see some glints of metal in the darkness, and the noise from around him was staring to rise - to his ear it sounded like orcs! There was no discernible noise from ahead, where Eloi and Tharhymm were supposed to be!

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