Chapter 7: The Enemy Of My Enemy

The enemy of my enemy is not always my ally

But those called friends before

Always rally in time of war

In the darkness of night, under normal circumstances, you imagine dangerous creatures out there just waiting for you to cross their path. But when there is a real threat, every noise prepares you for an attack. Though it is wise to be on alert, it soon taxes your strength and makes your mind wander.

Every since Allan has left the enemy's camp, he has no doubt that he is being pursued. It is now almost the next day's dawn, and he has still not reached the mountains that he is racing towards. He is exhausted and his horse is near death. The mountains did not seem so far away when Allan chose them as his escape route. Though in truth Allan does not know why he chose the mountains as his escape route, he just had a supreme feeling of necessity, and long ago did he learn not to fight the gifts of creation.

He's traveled through all the realms except the one, but there is still much left unknown to him. He supposes that is why his wonder and love continues to grow for this world and all the creatures in it.

Allan figures a good three or four hours to reach the base of the mountains, and it's only a half hour until sun up. Allan's dangerous flight has turned a week's journey into two, maybe three, days. Allan travels west for a while, and then turns northwest so he will eventually run into the river Churn, which is the same river that sustains life to Emma's village and the whole cluster of villages and towns in that area. The same river, albeit further up, where Emma took her swim.

If not for the river, and eventually Lake Trinity, Allan's horse would have died from the constant pushing Allan is forcing him to do. The closer they get to the lake, the rockier the foothills become, so he has to turn more due west again

The night holds many surprises, but it also gives the best concealment. When dawn comes the game will be back in full force. Allan likes to play many games. He is all for enjoying life to its fullest, but it is just not the same when you are the prey.

Normally trudging through the high wheat fields would have made noise enough for the deaf to follow, but a strong wind has been howling down from the mountains, covering any noisy tracks he may have been making, and now that he has left the wheat fields far behind he is more visible. The wind has a chill to it, even though it is still a few days until autumn, but nothing like the bite it holds in the wintertime. Allan counts himself lucky so far.

As his exhaustion grows and the leagues pass under hoof and foot, his mind wanders to Emma. The remembrance of her smile and laughter breaks the chill of the night and the hunt. Allan misses her terribly, and his greatest concern is that she will be worried about him. The warmth of her body against his as they lay sleeping together is one thing he is willing to fight through a whole army for, to get back to and experience again.

Though she cannot physically hear him he speaks aloud, "I love you, babygirl, and I will be with you soon." Allan shakes his head hard to get out of his dreaming and back to the task at hand.

"If nothing else, dreaming about her sure makes the time fly by."

It is now dawn, of the last day to reach the mountains, and full sunlight will be only minutes away. Allan scans the horizon a good three hundred and sixty degrees and wishes he had not. Not only does he see the patrol that has been tracking him since he made his escape, but he also sees an armed force of two hundred or more riders coming in his general direction. This is no patrol. It is a combat group out looking for a fight.

Allan has no choice, so he kicks his mount hard and urges it back into a full run. The combat force is ahead of him, but slightly to the southwest. If Allan turns northwest and stays at a constant speed, he figures he'll reach the mountains at about the same time.

Beyond that, Allan will no longer be able to turn north, for the River Churn will block his flight. The tracking patrol behind him is no real danger, for he can easily make it to the mountains before they reach him, but this new force means he might have no choice but to fight instead of just evade.

Allan apologizes to the horse, because he knows he probably will not survive this final thrust of a very long and hard journey. At first Allan doesn't think the combat force even sees him, but when he picks up speed moving away from them, they take notice. Even then they don't start a full out charge until they notice the patrol of their own people chasing him. Allan never could understand why some armies made their uniforms black, but now he guesses it is in part because it helps you pick your own people out at a distance, and even though Allan is wearing one of their uniforms a whole mass of them is quite different.

At this rate he'll reach the mountains in about twenty-five minutes. Though the combat force is still a good distance away, he can hear their war cries as they join in on the hunt. Allan tucks his head down next to the horse's neck and lets it run its life out for him.

The ground starts getting harder and more dangerous, the closer he gets to the mountains. Allan can now clearly hear the thunder of the enemy's horses, and he knows his calculations are off. They'll cut him off before he can reach the mountains. With the wind blowing hard in his face he draws his sword. Allan is only minutes away from the mountains prime, and seconds away from total annihilation. His only words are a silent apology to Emma for not making it back to her.

Allan is a well-trained warrior, and has fought in many outnumbered battles and won, but this is an exercise in futility. No matter, he will die as he lived, with honor, courage and pride. Never one to be patient for his own death, he charges directly for the combat force. As he is counting the seconds, the strangest thing happens. The enemy stops pursuit and turns towards the patrol that is falling further behind him. Allan stops his horse and gazes in wonder.

"Why are they retreating?" He won't give them time to think about it. He turns towards the mountains and keeps up a brisk pace.

Allan is climbing towards the heart of the mountains now, making his way through high ridges and passes, as these mountains waste no time in going for elevation. Allan hears some stones tumble down to his right. He looks up and sees a flash of green and gray just before he is unhorsed, knocked to the ground and blacks out.

Allan wakes with his hands and feet bound while lying on the ground. He hears talk all around him, but can't make any sense of it. His head is spinning. He tries to open his eyes to see his captors, only to find out that his left eye is swelled shut. Allan shakes his head and tries to focus through his blurry right eye.

"He is awake, Captain."

They forcefully sit him up and lean him against a giant boulder.

A big man of about thirty, with light brown hair and a big red mustache, comes forward and kneels down beside Allan and says, "Are you a cowardly deserter of our hated enemy, sir?"

"No, they are my enemy as well. I was on a recon mission to help plan for the war against them."

"You wear their clothes and ride their mount. Why should we not kill you now? Alone, we should kill you for the way you treated your horse."

Allan's right eye is clear now, but his head is throbbing like hell. "Sir, I wear their clothes because I went into their main camp and that was the only way to enter. I ride their mount, for I stole it to make my escape. But I give no excuses for the bad treatment of the horse, other than my mission is one of great importance."

The obvious leader of this outfit, the one questioning Allan, says, "Give me one reason why we should not kill you right now."

Allan can think of nothing to say accept, "I am Allan of the Clan Crag, better known as the Rock Clan."

The warriors start talking in excited and loud tones until the commander tells them to stop.

"You say you are of the Rock Clan? We know of and have great respect for those who serve the world unselfishly, but if you are lying, I promise you will now die by torture, not swift and mercifully, as you would have before. Can you prove it?"

Allan says, "No." in his Scottish brogue and then blacks out again.

"Sir, he has an accent just like..."

The captain cuts him off, "I know, but an accent can be faked. We will take him with us."

Allan is awakened by water being thrown in his face. This patrol is getting ready to move out.

They sit him up again and the leader comes forth, "You are only still alive because we know not for sure who and or what you are. My name is Stren. I will take you to our leader and let him decide your fate." The mountain folk speak with a Tally accent, but it has a southern drawl to it.

They untie Allan's feet, but leave his hands bound and pick him up onto the back of a pack mule. Allan is happy to see that his horse is still alive.

As they start moving out and up through the rugged mountains, Allan asks, "Are you the reason the army of the 'dragon-men' stopped their advance, even though they had me dead to rights?"

Stren stops and looks back at him. "How do you know about the dragonmen?"

"As I said, sir, I was in their main camp, and had the misfortune of meeting their leader."

"Hmm," is all he says, and they continue their trek up into the heart of the mountains.

The trek through the mountains is rough and treacherous. They are able to cross the River Churn on a manmade bridge. There are several soldiers stationed there to destroy the bridge if the enemy makes it that far. Allan isn't sure how far up the River Churn begins in the mountains, but it will be a great way to slow up the enemy's advance.

Also, every now and again the patrol Allan is with will pass through an area that looks no different than any other, except as they ride through another patrol rises up out of seemingly nowhere and salutes their comrades. No doubt they are waiting to ambush the enemy. Allan knows because he is seeing all of this, that if he cannot prove his worth he will be killed so he cannot tell the enemy of their numbers and tactics.

Allan is both encouraged and concerned.

"So, how are the Shadow Riders doing against this new enemy?" Allan says into the silence.

Stren, the blond-haired blue-eyed captain of this troop, spins around on his horse and glares at him. "How do you know who we are?"

"The Rock Clan knows all who are true to the world." Allan replies plainly.

"So you still claim to be of the Rock Clan?"

"I claim nothing. I am who I am." is all Allan has to say about that.

Stren stares long and hard at him, without either of them blinking or making the slightest twitch. Of course, with one eye still swollen shut, Allan only has to make half the effort he does. He turns around and they continue their journey further and deeper into the mountains. After some obviously heavy contemplation, he turns around and looks at Allan again. Allan just smiles. He turns back around and lets out a big exasperated sigh.

As they reach a plateau of the mountain and the riding starts going smoother, he turns around to Allan and informs him, "Our camp is not much further. We have one there who can see into your soul and tell us the truth of it all. All I can promise you is justice."

"I would expect no less from the great Shadow Riders." Allan says with only a hint of irony.

It's not that Allan doesn't think the Shadow Riders aren't great; it's just that he's uncomfortable, and his head hurts.

The plateau stays relatively flat for about a half a league, then the mountains shoot straight up disappearing into the clouds.

As they near the vertical rock face Stren turns to Allan, "We're here."

e."

Allan thinks to himself, "Great, where is here?"

But the troops go into single file and start disappearing into the rock face itself. As it turns out, there is a tunnel that goes through the mountains. Allan cannot tell if it is man-made or natural, but he is quite impressed. The tunnel goes on for nearly a third of a league, and then opens up to show a town of no less than three thousand people going about their business.

Word has already been sent from sentries that they are coming, so a delegation of elders, leaders and soldiers has gathered outside a huge tent. No doubt waiting for information on the progress of the war.

Most of the troop breaks off and go to their perspective places, while Stren and three others lead Allan to the big tent.

"Father," Stren says to a big gray haired and bearded man with the same blue eyes. "We captured this man as he was running from our enemy, and yet he wears our enemy's clothes. He claims to be of the..."