The Sound of Thunder - Part Two

He found the clearing, barely making out the distinguishing landmarks in the driving downpour. Turning on his horse, the futility of the situation set in; there would be no more evidence, no trail to pick up now. It was too late… Suddenly, something whistled past Olver’s head and an arrow thudded into the grass not three paces away. Olver whirled the horse around to face the direction the arrow had been fired from, whipping out his own bow from his back and swiftly knocking an arrow, ready to fire. Lightning flashed and he let fly an arrow as he caught a slight movement from behind a rock. The rain had dulled his bowstring and the arrow clattered off the rock-face just low of his target; what looked like the tip of a steel helm behind the rock. Before Olver could knock another arrow, Willow reared up with a whinny and a large figure burst into view at his side and caught hold of Olver around the neck, wrenching him backwards off of his horse. He hit the ground with a jarring thud, his assailant, a heavy set beast of a man, fully upon him. Thunder cracked and rumbled in the heavens as Olver struggled to break free from the grip of his assailant. With the rain lashing his eyes and the man’s hot acrid breath in his face, the man leant ever closer. “She’s dead you know!” The man growled, squeezing ever harder as he taunted Olver. Olver’s lungs burned for air and his vision blurred and faltered as he desperately tried to wrench those great hands away from his raw, burning throat. A glob of spittle dribbled down onto Olver’s cheek as the man’s face cracked into a grin and he spoke with a menacing drawl, “Your woman died screaming and wailing for mercy!” With a surge of rage, Olver lurched up, grabbing the man’s collar and drove his forehead into the brute’s nose, feeling the cartilage give way with a sickening squelch. A gush of crimson erupted from the man’s nose. The man bellowed in agony as Olver worked his thumbs loose and wrenched them forward, forcing them back with a snap. As he shoved off the brute and rose, Olver grabbed him by the hair, brought his knee up swiftly and connected with the man’s jaw with a jarring crack, knocking him out cold. Olver barely had time to wipe the blood from his face before another attacker, a feral, nasty looking little man, was upon him, a cruel curved dagger in his hand. The blade sliced through Olver’s tunic and just caught his flank as he leapt to avoid the swipe but the pain did not register. Another flash of lightning lit up two more men entering the clearing, one bearing a weighted net, the other a large two handed sword, and the crack of thunder followed soon after. Olver darted out of the way of another swipe from the man with the knife and in one clean sweep, he whipped his sword free from its sheath at his waist and brought it up, hacking into the knife wielder’s arm. The knife wielder fell to his knees clutching his ruined, spurting, bloody bicep and let out a blood curdling scream. Olver turned to face the other two attackers. “Elhyas wants him alive!” warned the taller man with the sword as they broke apart and began circling Olver, “Aim for his legs,” the taller man called again. An arrow thunked into the earth just as Olver leapt back and stumbled over onto his back in the mud. The archer now stood in the open, ten or so paces away, as he hurriedly reached for another arrow from the quiver on his back. Olver’s hand fell upon a fist sized rock and he wrenched it from the soil, rising up and hurling it at the archer. The rock span in the air and cracked into the side of the archer’s head, clipping the edge of his helmet with a clang and glancing off the side of his face. Olver sprang to his feet to face the other two attackers as the archer fell to the ground with a low moan, hand up to his wound. The two brigands circled him, one each side. Olver, wielding his blade and taking up a defensive stance, turned about sharply to keep them both in view. The tall one lurched forward with the long blade, aiming at Olver’s leg, but Olver blocked the attack easily with a clash of steel and pushed forward with a counter attack. Blades clashed and rang as the two men fought viciously, Olver gaining most of the ground, ever wary of the other brigand hovering somewhere behind him. The taller man was stronger but much slower with his attacks and as Olver feinted a slash to the man’s ribs, he swung around, blade outstretched and hewed straight through the man’s neck with a powerful hack. The brigand’s decapitated head thudded to the soggy ground as his body swayed upright briefly before toppling over, spraying a thick column of arterial blood that pumped, seeping into the sodden earth. Olver spun around quickly just as the other man hurled the net over him. The net hit him with force and his legs buckled as the momentum of the throw wrapped the heavy, trailing weights around his lower body, sending Olver sprawling to the floor, trapped. “Thought you could escape the Brotherhood did you, bastard?!” jeered the brigand just before he struck Olver heavily on the head with a steel club and all winked out into blackness…