The next morning, Hamel awoke early. His eyes cracked open, and he stared into the dark. From the dying embers of the fire, he could just make out the shapes of the Council benches, but not much more. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he waited patiently while his mind settled on the events of the last three weeks.

He could hear something happening, but he was not quite awake enough to know what it was. It wasn't nearby, but it was disturbing. He knew he needed to act, but he was so tired.

He shook his head and pushed himself up with his arm. It was far too early, and he was no longer used to jumping up alert at the sound of danger. Outside... the problem was outside.

He grabbed the rifle that he had found in the traders' cart and rushed out through the Inner Council Chamber doors to the outside doors, but he paused to listen for just a moment. He could make out snarling and barking. He suspected it was a pack of wild dogs, and they sounded as if they were across the courtyard. The pack had picked up the horses' scent, likely while stopping at the river for a drink.

He cracked open the door just enough to see outside. It was dark, but he could make out movement on the far side of the courtyard. He wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to do anything until the sun began to rise, but he suspected the horses would be safe, albeit quite disturbed. The stable was solid.

Hamel closed the door and made his way down the hallway to the stairs. He had to be careful as he moved through the Council Chambers. The building was well set up now to do a great deal of harm if a man were to step in the wrong place or trip on a rope holding back a trap ready to spring. He did not want to be injured or killed by his own work.

On the second floor, he opened a boarded-up window and felt the cool, evening air wash over him. The sun was creeping up in the east, and he could make out at least eight dogs, perhaps more. They were all around the stable, barking and jumping at the windows. There was not much chance that one might find its way inside. The stable was made of stone, the windows too high, and the doors too solid for a pack of dogs. The greater concern was the state the horses would be in.

His own horse, the one Mellel had given him, moved and acted as a warhorse. It was obedient, intelligent, and ready for action. There were scars on its flank and one on its nose. The dogs would upset his horse, but if he had evaluated the horse properly, it would be more anxious to join the battle than flee from it.

He took aim with his rifle. There were few packs of wild dogs in the wilderness. No trader tolerated them. The animals killed off horses, occasionally attacked people, and if they roamed too close to a village, they could attack a herd. When that happened, the villagers would send a hunting party after the dogs. They were a nuisance no one tolerated.

He fired the rifle, and a dog went down. The others jumped and spun around as they searched for the new threat. Two of the dogs rushed to the side of their fallen member, sniffed him, and spun around, looking for the danger.

He fired again, then a third time, each time killing another dog. By the time the third one went down, the remaining dogs bolted down the street. As they raced away, he took another shot and killed a fourth. It would not do to have the pack on his tail as he made his way to Olmos. Four dogs escaped, and he hoped the experience was enough to scare them far away.

Hamel made his way down to the Inner Council Chambers and grabbed his belt with a knife, secured it to his waist, and slung the rifle over his shoulder. The horses would need to be checked, but he did not want to be caught by the dogs if they came back. As an afterthought, he grabbed his sidearm and tucked it in his belt.

He stepped out into the morning air. There was no sound at first of dogs or any other animals. As he neared the stable, the sound of the horses reached his ears. They were in a frenzy, and one of the horses was screaming in pain. He wasn't too keen on stepping into a stable with four or five panicking horses, but if they did not calm down, they could seriously hurt themselves. From the sounds inside the stable, one was already injured.

The handle to the stable was heavy, as was the door. He began to unlatch it when movement to his left caught his eye. He whipped out his sidearm and fired, killing a dog that had stayed behind, but he could not get a shot off at the second one. Hamel threw himself against the side of the stable, and the dog sailed past. In the movement, he lost his sidearm.

The animal turned and was on him in a second. He felt the pain in his calf as the dog bit down and shook its head, trying to incapacitate Hamel. With the pain, his military training kicked in, and his hand grasped the dog by the scruff of its neck, slamming his knife into the side of its chest.

In the light of the early dawn, his eyes landed on his sidearm, and he lunged for it. Hamel scanned the shadows and watched for any movement.

Once back on his feet, he set himself a new plan. The horses were crashing about within the stable, but he would not be of much use to them if he did not care for his injury.

Hamel cried out in pain with the first few steps as he hobbled his way across the courtyard to the rushing water. Once there, he washed the wound. The water felt refreshing, but it also stung. He had lost too much blood in the few short minutes and decided to pull off his tunic and use it as a bandage. He used his knife to slice the material into long strips and tied the cut on his leg. Within a few minutes, he had managed to slow the bleeding.

His thoughts continued to be drawn to the horses, but he set that concern aside for the time being. An untreated wound could be the death of a soldier. He had not paid much attention to the medical supplies he had received from Mellel, but it was time to put them to use.

Every step felt like fire burning through his left leg as he made his way to the apple trees. He scanned the area, hoping to find a thick branch to use as a crutch, but he moved on without finding one. Apple trees were not known for growing strong, straight branches.

When he reached the bottom of the steps leading into the Council Chambers, he shook his head. There was nothing to be done but endure the pain. He gritted his teeth as he moved up the steps.

Once inside, he stoked the fire. The sun was not up enough to shine much light into the room, but in the light from the flickering flames, he could make his way to his pack. As he rummaged through the supplies he had received from the man in the oasis, he found some extra clean cloth and some salve. He immediately set to work on pulling off the bandages and applying the salve before he retied the cloth. The clean bandages he saved for later. He suspected he would need them soon enough.

Hamel gasped for air as he leaned back against a wall. If he didn't move his leg at all, the pain would settle down to an intense throbbing. In the army, they had trained men to calm their hearts and settle their minds during times of danger or injury. There were times when rest was needed whether a soldier felt capable or not. Within a few minutes, he drifted off to sleep.

A short while later, his eyes opened. His leg ached, and as he stood to his feet, the room spun. He had lost far more blood than he had at first thought.

A quick look at the bandage told him the bleeding had not stopped. He pulled off the old cloth, applied more salve, and tied a new bandage around the cut. He made sure the bandage was tighter than the first had been.

It was time to move out. He wasn't sure how the horses were faring, but he hoped they had calmed down somewhat. He picked up his packs and grabbed the cloak he had received from Mellel. It was a perfect traveling cloak, and he hoped the status such a cloak suggested would give him a bit more space to move around in Olmos. His accent had held up well with the traders, and aside from the new injury, he felt his chances of making it through the border of Olmos were good.

* * *

The sun shone brightly by the time he walked out of the Council Chambers and hobbled down the steps. The courtyard seemed strangely quiet after the events of the early morning, and Hamel made his way across to the stables. On his way, he stopped at the river flowing away from the fountain, drank his fill, and topped up both waterskins. He had less than a day's ride to get to the border of Olmos, but he wasn't sure how long it would be after that to get to Pollos. He had assumed it to be a fair distance from the border, based on various comments he had heard from Pulanomos years ago, but Olmosites were very private about their nation.

When he reached the stable, he pulled out his sidearm. He didn't think there was much chance that more dogs were hiding around the corner, but the pain in his leg was hard to ignore. It was difficult to so quickly forget its cause.

He grabbed the latch and unlocked the door. The sight inside was worse than he had expected. Three of the horses in their fright had broken out of their stalls. Two stood at the back of the stable, wild-eyed and snorting loudly. The third had obviously not only broken out of the stall, but one of the boards of the gate had broken in a sharp piece, and the horse had fallen on it. It had not survived.

His own horse and the final horse from the traders were both in their stalls. Only his own horse seemed relatively unaffected. The other horse had the same wild look in its eyes.

Hamel did not want to approach the two horses standing at the back of the stable, so he swung the door open wide and stepped out of the way. He walked a short distance away, back from the stable, and waited. He hoped they would come out and perhaps some time at the river might calm them down, but it was not to be.

A few moments after he stepped back, the first of the two horses poked its head out the door, with the second stepping up next to it. They looked skittish, but he thought they might calm down. Hamel relaxed for a moment, but at the sound of a crow cawing nearby, both horses bolted into the courtyard, racing away down the street.

Hamel hoped they would stop once they reached a certain point, but they turned the corner and disappeared from sight. He hobbled back into the stable. His leg was causing him much grief, but there was nothing that could be done about it for the time being. He ignored the pain as best he could and approached the stall his own horse was in. He pulled open the gate and stood out of the way. The horse snorted a few times and stepped up beside him as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He saddled his horse and led it to the grassy area in the courtyard, leaving it to graze for a few minutes while he went back for the other horse.

The horse breathed normally. It stood tall and appeared calm, but its eyes revealed a different story. He pulled open the door to the stall and stepped out of the way. The horse didn't move. He hobbled into the stall next to it and reached through the slats to give the horse a little push. He did not want to stand anywhere near the animal while it was so terrified.

The horse did not respond at all to the touch. He gave it a harder push, then a slap. The slap moved the horse, but far too much. It bolted, as had the others, out of its stall and then out of the stable. Moving as fast as he could, he followed it out, but it was out of sight by the time he reached the courtyard.

He hoped the horses would return to Olmos. It was possible three horses returning to Olmos without their owners might cause questions to be asked, but he assumed the border guards would have no reason to associate the horses with him.

He wandered back to the fountain where his horse grazed. The sun had climbed into the sky. It was mid-morning. With a well-rested and well-fed horse, he hoped he could make good time and reach the border before it was too late in the evening. He pulled out the oats he had collected from the trader's cart, and while the horse ate, he took another look at his leg.

The bleeding had stopped, and the bandage did not yet need to be cleaned. The pain was still intense, but he knew it would hurt for quite a few days. The journey to Olmos would not help, but he hoped he could get some better care while there. A lot was riding on the unknown when it came to the Olmosites.

He let his horse eat and drink for another half hour, then pulled himself to his feet and led his horse away from the water. The climb into the saddle hurt more than he had thought it would.

As he moved through the streets, he distracted his mind from the pain by memorizing the turns. It was a simple, familiar layout as it resembled the Capital, but he did not want to make a wrong turn in a moment of crisis. He had long since learned that being well prepared was as valuable as being well disciplined.

At the exit to the city, the gates and walls caught his eye. He had not paid them much attention on his way in, but he was surprised to see they were as solid as the Valley Wall at the Capital. There were turrets every fifty paces or so, and the wall was thick. As he rode outside, he looked back and saw a great deal of scarring on the wall, indicating they had faced many battles. The wall, however, appeared as though it could withstand any abuse thrown at it.

He wondered what enemies his ancestors had faced in the wilderness. The Beasts were not likely a threat that far inland. The Olmosites had been allies for centuries. He did not think any of the other nations would come so deep into the old Ridge territories. It was a question he suspected might never be answered. The lack of historical records left many questions.

Hamel pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He had spent the last number of years reflecting on many such matters, but he was on a mission. He had to focus.

Once back on the road, he turned east and moved at a fast pace. The horse was strong and quite attentive to the road ahead, adjusting its course to avoid any problem sections of the road. He made good time, stopping only when necessary and was pleased to see by late afternoon, the border of Olmos was visible in the distance. He had once been that far before, just to the border, but because of the private nature of the Olmosite people, he had not made it past the gates. Even the Ridge Ambassador to the Olmosites could not go past the gate.

Available in ebook, paperback, and Hardcover!

To support the author, grab a copy from Amazon:

https://amzn.to/3y0HHiy