Free Shadowland by C M Gray

circled further around,
searching the Pict’s movements for an opening. Seeing a branch, he stooped to
pick it up, along with a smaller one that he tossed to the other side to
distract the circling man.
    ‘ Yaaahhhh !’ With a cry,
the Pict leapt forward and slashed his sword in a vicious arc, lopping a branch
from the bush close to where the stick had landed. When it met no more
resistance than the bush, he sprang back and began turning about in a slow
circle, head cocked to one side, listening intently.
    He continued to circle, but this time, when his back
was turned, Usher dashed forward and brought the branch down hard onto the back
of the sticky blue head. He watched in relief as the man collapsed soundlessly
into the dead leaves.
    Stepping cautiously closer, Usher kicked his arm,
the warrior groaned and made to rise, and with a sob of dismay, Usher brought
the branch down once more and then again even harder. A wave of nausea rolled
over him but at least that time, the Pict stayed down.

 
    Cal appeared and glanced from
the fallen Pict to the branch in Usher's hand. ‘Did you kill him?’
    ‘I don’t know… I don’t think so.’ Usher stared down
at the fallen man and felt an urge to throw up; but his stomach was empty and
he only succeeded in making a hollow retching sound. Wiping saliva from his
chin, he gazed transfixed as blood trickled down the man’s face, mingling with
the blue mud. His eyes fluttered for a moment and Usher felt a sense of relief
flood through him, he hadn’t killed him. ‘Quick, help me pull him into the
bushes.’ He bent down and took the man’s arm and, with Cal’s help, they set about dragging him into
the shadows.
    ‘He’s heavy,’ remarked Cal, as he strained to move the dead weight
of the Pict through the leaves.
    ‘Well, the other’s going to be heavy as well, but we
have to get them out of sight. There could be more along any moment.’
    ‘Usher?’ hissed Cal, stopping for a moment. ‘If he’s still
alive… do you think we should kill him?’ He stared into his friend’s eyes,
clearly unhappy at the thought of any more killing.
    ‘I… I don’t think I could,’ said Usher at last.
‘Could you?’ Cal
shook his head with obvious relief. They went back out to the clearing for the
dead Pict with the arrow in him, creeping silently, listening and straining
their senses for any sounds of others approaching. When they got to him, they
roughly grabbed him by the feet and dragged him back through the bushes and lay
him alongside the first, and then ran back out to cover their tracks and the
bloodstains.
    Once back alongside the two Picts, Usher pulled away
the long strips of leather the fallen warriors used to hold swords and packs,
and then tied up the unconscious one, binding his hands and feet then gagging
his mouth so he couldn’t cry out.
    ‘This sort of feels worse than killing him,’
murmured Cal,
staring down when they had finished. ‘If his friends don’t find him, he could
die like this out here in the forest.’
    Usher shrugged. ‘He was going to kill me; I saw it
in his eyes just before I threw the dirt into them. This is better than he
would have done for any of us. Anyhow, he’s now in the hands of the spirits or
whatever gods he has looking out for him. We have to get out of here.’ Picking
up the Pict’s short sword and bow, he moved off through the bushes back to
where the others still waited.
    Keeping off the path, the little group made its way
through the forest with the occasional sounds of the remaining Picts fading
behind them. Twice they heard distant cries of pain and hoped that it was a
Pict warrior and not Meryn. The archer had managed to give them the opportunity
of escape, but they hoped he hadn’t paid for it with his life.
    The middle of the day came and went without the
opportunity to eat, and it was late in the afternoon when they finally emerged
from The Weald, their bellies aching with hunger. Despite their misery,