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Hannibal kicks his horse into action, driving the steed to near breakneck speeds. Catching up with Emma, Hannibal reaches out his hand, "My bow and quiver, give them to me!"

Emma immediately looks down at her horse. No quiver of arrows is wrapped around the pommel of her saddle. She looks behind her and doesn't see anything wrapped up in her saddlebags either. What had happened to Hannibal's bow? She looks back to him, worried that she lost it somehow.

Then, Emma frowns and wordlessly points to Hannibal's own saddle, where the thief's bow and quiver already rested. She had returned his weapons to him before they had even left to cast the spells upon the Caerloon troops. He, and she, must have forgotten...

Hannibal looks down at the bow and quiver already hanging from his own horse. In all the excitement, he had not even noticed that Emma had already returned it. Looking back at Emma, he mouthed a "Whoops" and smiled before charging ahead of the group.

Once retrieved, Hannibal kicks his horse again, driving the beast out in front of the group and taking as big a lead as possible. While passing Cy he only nods and yells, "Back me up!"

He then leads his horse ahead, the wind whipping through his hair with a loud roar. Just over a small rise, and well ahead of the rest of his friends, he pulls his mount to a quick stop, hopping off and slapping the animal on its way. Looking around him, he sees no good cover. Not wanting to waste time searching for any, he just drops to one knee, readying his bow.

Emma watches as Hannibal spurrs his horse even further ahead of everyone and then reins it to a stop at the top of a small rise in the terrain. "What's he doing?" she shouts at Edryd, obviously worried that the thief might be captured. Was he sacrificing himself so the rest could get away?

She turns to look back over her shoulder as they soared past his position. Seeing him readying his bow, she began to realize his intent. "Wait!" she calls to the others, "Hannibal's going to try an ambush..." She pulls on the reins to her horse, slowing it down several yards from the small rise. She quickly reaches down and loosens the knot holding her spear across the pommel of her saddle, hefting it up in one hand, pointed toward the sky.

She anxiously waits for the Caerloon riders to appear over the hill and for Hannibal to open fire. Once the thief managed to distract them, she planned to spur her horse forward and charge into their midst. Hopefully her spear could dismount at least one of the men...and Rinder's Six could handle the rest. As an afterthought, she pulled her horseman's flail from the belt around her waist and placed it within her other hand, just behind her shield. In the event her spear shattered, or became stuck and was wrenched from her hand, she would need another weapon quickly. Now she was ready. Hopefully the rest of Rinder's Six would back up the ambush, too...

Edryd quickly sees what Emma sees and grins, his eyes flashing green like emerald stars, his black mane whipped in the wind as he spurs his horse forward... He motions to Cy and the others to follow, hoping they too see the possibilities over the ridge. Once beyond the ridge he plans to position himself opposite Emma's position so as to create a gauntlet for their pursuers, and be careful to position himself out of Hannibal's firing path.

Crayne rides down the hill with the rest of the party when Edyrd alerts him to the pursuers. He looks at Dire and smiles. Feeling pleased with himself and wanting to impress, he pulls the reins on his horse and brings it to a steadier pace. Turning, he waits for the four men to be in reasonable distance and then plans to blast a color spray off.

Seeing Edryd, Crayne, Hannibal, and Emma plan the ambush, Cy takes it upon himself to defend Dire Luthor. Calling to the wizard, he says, "Dire! Stay behind my position. Canter! Storm! Let us form the second line!" With that, they dismount and take up position behind Edryd, Emma, Hannibal, and Crayne.

Sweat pours from scalps, only to be whisked away by the strong wind. The stars canvasing the sky above, once visible before, are now completely obscured. The wind is cooler than it has been, sending a chill down Canter's spine. Seconds pass, seeming like hours, before the four riders can be heard coming.

As they charge over the top of the ridge, Crayne quickly lets loose his color spray spell, which brightens up the night in its flash of rainbow hues. The colors stream from Crayne's fingertips as a look of determination and concentration is formed on his face, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed (as Dire had once suggested).

The spell's effects quickly strike the two lead riders. They raise their hands to their faces, blinded by the light of the spell. They yank on the reins of their mounts to slow down, unsure of what lies ahead of them. The other two riders, however, are too far for the fan of colors to strike them.

Seeing these other two still charging, Hannibal aims and fires his bow. The arrow leaves the bow, whiffling through the air. But the strong wind is too much, and the arrow is lifted and slowed. Hannibal quickly reloads and tries again, but his second arrow, too, is caught in the gust. Frustrated, he slams his hand down on the ground and throws his bow over his shoulder, turning to head back toward Cy and Canter's position.

Emma turns to Edryd and smiles. This is what soldiers of Anhur were meant for. Defending others, defending honor, defending justice. She quickly grabs at her necklace, offering a quick prayer to their god on behalf of herself and Edryd. Then, seeing Hannibal's motion of frustration, she lowers her spear and raises her shield. Giving her partner one last glance, she can see the determination in the paladin's face, the fire in his eyes. They kick their mounts hard and begin charging toward the two remaining Caerloon riders.

Edryd's horse reaches his target first. The rider sees Edryd coming, but is too late. Raising his buckler shield, the tiny circle of wood is just not enough to defend against the massive warrior bearing down on him. With an elegant swoop, Edryd's blade comes careering through the air, striking the rider in the stomach. The rider is lifted clear off his saddle by the force of the blow, the momentum of the horses, and by Edry'd sheer strength. The blade beginds to cut through the studded leather armor, and Edryd can feel the man's blood oozing onto his own hand, down the blade of his sword. Whispering the Ritual of Final Breaths, Edryd lowers his hand and blade, allowing the dying rider to slide down to the ground below.

Emma's steed then reaches her target. Positioning her spear in front of her like a lance, she does her best to line up the weapon with her target. The rider, however, sees her and her weapon. He directs his horse wide of Emma's, so as to avoid the direct blow. So instead of being struck head-on by the spear, he catches the side of the spear, it's shaft. As he goes by, he swipes at the weapon with his long sword. With a grunt and a loud crack, the rider's blade cuts clear through the shaft of Emma's weapon, littering the ground with wooden splinters.

Emma lets out a growl of frustration as she sees, hears, and feels the impact of the enemy's blade as it cuts her spear in half. Dropping the wooden shaft she still holds, she reaches over to grab her horseman's flail. But this time, however, the rider has slowed his horse and has begun turning to fall in behind her. Emma looks over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she sees this. 'His long sword is no match for my flail,' she thinks, comparing the relative lengths of the two weapons. 'If I just let him get a little closer...' She gently slows her horse, allowing the rider to gain on her.

Then, with one swift movement, she yanks on her horse's reins. The horse screams loudly, bbut Emma pays no heed. She has turned her body almost completely around and lashes out with the long arm of her horseman's flail. The spiked end of the weapon catches the rider, whose own long sword is still not within reach. He screams in pain as the spikes dig into his skin. Feeling them grab, Emma then yanks hard on her weapon (further stretching and tearing into the rider's skin), pulling the rider off his horse and letting him fall to the ground below. Breathing hard, she looks up to see how the rest of the ambush is going.

"Come!" Cy calls to Canter, "Those two won't be blinded for long!" Canter nodds to Cy and the two run off toward the two blinded riders, drawing their blades along the way. In two swift movements, the run their swords through their enemies, ensuring that these two will not continue to give persuit.

"Let's keep moving!" Edryd says, his horse a gallop as he approaches Cy and Canter, still breathing hard. "Crayne's spell could alert others to our position, and we don't know how much longer Dire's illusion will work!" He reaches down to Cy, offering the warrior his hand. With a jump and pull, Cy is hoisted up onto the back of Edryd's mount. Emma closes in, and does the same to Canter.

They reach the rest of the party, allowing Cy and Canter to mount their own horses. "I say we get out of here before they send the whole army after us!" Hannibal says, still frustrated.

Edryd nods to Hannibal, shouting over the howling wind, "Did anyone get a look at any of their markings?"

The others shake their heads. "Too dark!" Crayne shouts. "Couldn't see any," Canter says.

"Fine," Edryd replies disappointedly, "Let's not go back and get another look! Onward!"

"Onward to Caerloon!" Emma shouts as she kicks her horse. The others fall in, and soon Rinder's Six rides away from the battle and into Northern Caerloon. The cold winds dies down a bit about an hour later. The horses, too, slow their pace. They are tired, as are their riders, badly in need of rest.

Slowly working their way down the south side of another hill, the party can see a sea of wheat fields open up before them. The intermittent starlight reveals the waves as they roll through the fields. Continuing forward, the party is soon engulfed in the wheat, which is as tall as Edryd. Soon it is decided to stop for the night. Camp is hastily made, watches are drowsily set, and sleep descends quickly upon any who close their eyes.

In the morning, a small fire is lit where some wheat stalks have been cleared. Some rations are handed out. Sitting around the fire just after sunrise, Hannibal looks up at Dire with a questioning glance. "So, Dire, where exactly are you planning to take us today?"

Dire finishes sipping his hot water and wipes his chin. "There is, I believe, a camp of troops. Probably somewhere to the west of here. Has anyone a map?"

"I do," Canter offers, reaching into his bag for the bundle of maps Guilliam gave him in the marketplace. He unrolls the map of northern Caerloon given to the party by the late Captain Frond of Fort Mitchend. [You can view this map on the game's web page.]

Taking the map from Canter with a smile, Dire holds it up for all to see. "We crossed the border on this road," he instructs, tracing the line of the road southward from the top of the map. "We probably saw those troops about here," his finger stops just below the heavy black line, indicating a position just south of the border.

"You can see the road turns west after crossing border. In our haste to get away last night, we did not. I believe, then, if we turn and head west, we will soon find the main road again, and the camp, I understand, is not too far off the road."

"Besides," Cy says, chewing on his breakfast, "a camp for an entire army is not easily hidden. We can find it."

"I'll tell you what I'd love to find," Emma says, picking at a splinter in her right hand, which has swollen slightly, "another spear. That bastard broke clear through mine."

"My Lady," Dire says with a smile, "I was once told by my mentor, Pardon Vistige, 'It is not the weapon that is carried, but he who carries the weapon.'" Crayne raises an eyebrow, thinking on that piece of advice and trying to member the name, Pardon Vistige.

Soon camp is broken and the horses, rested a bit during the night, are once again mounted. Dire points the party west, and it is that direction in which they head. The sky is clear, save a few white whisps of clouds over head left over from the previous night. But the light breeze is cool again.

The morning passes without incident, and soon after a brief stop for lunch, the field of wheat begins to thin out. There, perhaps a thousand yards ahead, lies the road. With a smile, Dire looks to the rest of the party. Cranye can't help but smile, too.

As the party approaches the road, a lone traveler, leading a mule, is found also traveling the road. He hurries to catch up to the party, huffing and puffing all the way. He is an elderly man in brown, dirty robes. His balding head and frail skin reveal his age. He raises a withered hand to Crayne and addresses the party, his voice weak and strained.

"Alms? Would you give alms? To this poor, old, cleric of Lentyr?"

1. Unfortunately, Emma, please remove the spear from your CIS, as it is now defunct.

2. The map of northern Caerloon which Dire uses can be found on the game's web page in the maps section. https://members.tripod.com/~DMRinder

3. Any reactions to the cleric? Will you give him anything, or just some sympathy and keep moving toward the camp?

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