A Ghost on the River
Apr 29, 2016 14:18:35 GMT -5
Post by Alhazred on Apr 29, 2016 14:18:35 GMT -5
Chapter 1.
A Ghost on the River
Sample
He was a scout of the Wolf Clan, and the paint that streaked his face and chest proclaimed him as such. He was dark and furtive with broad shoulder and a narrow hips. About his hips was a buckskin loincloth suspended by a corded leather belt, from this hung a naked leaf shaped copper knife. He gripped a long black bow in his thick fingers, his thumb subconsciously licking the string. Three arrows stood ready before him, thrust in to the soft riverbank.
Despite his thirst to loose his bow and his heart hammering in his chest, he would not attack. His task was not a red one. He would give a signal, two long howls, and then he would follow silently up the river in the wake of the craft. The river bent west and further narrowed a half a mile behind him, and there fifty warriors awaited his signal.
Word had come north by drum from the Otter People, who had received warning from the Gator Clan, of the great Hyborian canoe that dared the Thunder River. A war party was hastily assembled. It was early Spring in the Pictish wilderness, and the tribal wars had just resumed. The bulk of the Wolf Clans warriors were a five-day march to the north and west making war on the Hawk People.
Still, the remaining chief confidently called together his warriors and plotted an ambush.
No longer did the pale westerners attempt to penetrate the forest that spanned the west bank of Great River, and rarely did the clans that dwell in those forest cross and make raids on the settlers. A stalemate had been reached, the Aquilonians unable to progress, and the Picts equally unable to reclaim the lands that had been lost.
This was something new to the Picts, never before had such a vessel ventured this far north on the Thunder River. The Picts new of these craft, they had seen them, or their kin had, upon this same river but far to the south in the land the invaders called Zingara, and they were known to the sea tribes on the distant coast, who occasionally traded with them. This though was unprecedented. If there is one quality of the Hyborian invaders that the Picts were aware of, it was that they were relentless.
Long ago the Picts had watched small groups of Hyborians push noisily into their forest, and now the groves and meadows were lousy with the pink devils. They would not allow this trend to repeat on the sacred river. The river had been neutral grounds for the last two decade, a peace could never exist between these two very different peoples but mutual avoidance had served in its place. If this great canoe were to be tolerated, more would surely follow.
The fog that shrouded the middle channel began to darken. A black shape was materializing amidst the churning clouds. A dark shaft that was the bowsprit began to slide slowly from the darkness like a gigantic ebon sword piercing the body of some nebulous fiend.
The dark figure on the bank melted into shadow as the glistening bow emerged into view. He stood entirely motionless as the ship glided towards his position. Shadowy figures stood on her decks; shadow indeed blanketed the whole scene. Not a torch burned on that dark vessel. The only movement the Pict could detect was the steady rise and fall of a dozen oars as they pushed against the current.
The river mist had already engulfed the bow and waist by the time the stern slid passed. He slowly turned in the direction of the ship as it faded once again into the thick fog. Snatching his arrows from the earth, he lifted his face to the treetops for a howl that never came.
A deeper shadow streaked in an arch over the river from the blackness beneath the trees on the opposite bank. A harsh croak and a gurgle issued instead from the pierced throat, where the head and a foot and a half of an arrow shaft stood out from his neck. The Pict slouched against the tree at his back and then sagged down quietly onto the debris of the forest floor.
For the first time in hours there was movement on the opposite bank as a dark shape flitted from shadow to shadow, hurrying north along the river….