Free Windcatcher: Book I of the Stone War Chronicles by A.J. Norfield Page A

enemy soldiers were headed somewhere.
    As Ca’lek’s experienced gaze scanned the valley back and forth, his eyes caught movement far away, down in the valley. It was a part of the forest near the river that caught his eye. The forest opened up in some places, like holes in a worn down roof. It was there that he saw shadows move amongst the trees. Crouching down, he kept an eye on the shadows for some time, focusing on a part of the forest that opened up in a small clearing a little further along the path. It was the path they had followed some days ago, before it actually crossed the river. Holding his hand above his eyes to shield the direct sunlight from the rising sun, he saw multiple foot soldiers enter the clearing. Walking in rows of four, a group of twenty figures marched into the clearing, followed by a number of wagons each pulled by two horses.
    “That’s not good,” whispered Ca’lek under his breath.
    At least a hundred and fifty men crossed the clearing and moved across the river which, although very cold, was not very deep. Ca’lek remembered the clearing and the time they spent near the river, trying to catch fish. The fish were a strange variety, long and sleek. Their backs were dark, making them hard to spot against the dark soil of the river bottom, while their bellies were painted with all the colors of broken light. Their fishing was only mildly successful as the fish were deviously fast and slippery.
    The clearing was at least a full day’s ride from the cliff by horse, and this army moved at a slower pace than they had been riding; but there was no doubt in the scout’s head that they were moving his way…and coming up this mountain. The valley had no other exit in the direction the army moved.
    Ca’lek was still counting, when he became aware of distant, rapid thumping. Checking his surroundings, he saw nothing on the cliff responsible for the sounds, when he heard below him multiple shouts spurring on horses. Dropping flat on his stomach, he scrambled toward the edge. Sticking his head over the ledge, he looked to the path below. Although part of the cliff was still blocking his view, he saw four horsemen suddenly burst into view as they sped their horses up the path on the cliff toward him. They would be on him in a matter of moments; they were still briefly moving away from him—toward the final turn—before the switchback brought them to the final climb and on top of the cliff. With no moment to spare, Ca’lek rolled himself under the bushes, crawling backward out of sight of the rapidly approaching horsemen.
    He heard the hooves come closer as the riders steered their horses onto the plateau and into the clearing. Once at the top, the first rider pulled hard on his reins, bringing his horse to a sliding halt. It was a maneuver with no regard for the safety of the animal, as the loose gravel in the clearing could have easily made the horse lose its footing and fall down with danger of serious injury to its legs.
    The rider laughed loudly as he turned his horse around to regard the others who were bringing their own mounts to a halt. Boasting another laugh, Ca’lek heard the rider’s deep voice talk a language he did not understand. It sounded thick on the tongue; and although he listened intently, he could not understand any of it. The rider swung his leg forward over the horse and jumped to the ground, grabbing the reins to lead his horse to a nearby tree. These men were built large and muscular, but their movements were quick and nimble, especially the rider who had apparently just won a race. The others slowly followed his example, while laughing and talking back to the winner.
    Walking away from Ca’lek, he clearly saw the group was a scouting party, most likely riding ahead of the main force he had spotted crossing the river. The soldier that dismounted first had a completely shaved head, with a rugged long beard. His dark armor protected vital parts, much like their squad’s