Chapter 23 Azahara #3
Soon the forest became a blur of vibrant colors and fleeting images as they navigated through the maze of trees.
The leaves rustled and danced in the wake of them, carried away by the wind generated by their rapid movements.
The three horses effortlessly leaped over or dodged any obstacle they encountered.
They knew that they needed to get away as fast as possible.
They had charged off to the east, but soon they were turning south, beginning to head off in the direction they initially had been needing to go. They needed to get back on track to avoid adding more traveling days to their journey.
“Look out!” Zhal screamed, rearing Noxus to a halt. Moondancer and Starlight did as well, an arrow piercing the tree trunk in front of them.
Azahara turned Starlight, facing her companions.
“Toss me my bow and arrow, Illyan!” There was no moment of question, they did as Kaed demanded.
Just as he had his bow in hand and cocked back an arrow, the feeling of being entangled in a web-like structure ensnared her body. A cry of surprise escaped her lips, and she felt her freedom of movement become limited.
A sizeable, thick rope net had been shot over her, Kaed, and Starlight. It was heavy, and the coarse fibers against her skin scratched and hurt to fight against. It threw them off balance, and while Starlight tried to keep calm, he reared his head back and shuffled his feet.
“Calm, Starlight, calm!” she called, her own voice betraying her command.
As Starlight’s head broke free from the net, it became apparent that Azahara and Kaed were the only ones still entangled. Kaed struggled, tugging at the net to locate its end.
Azahara reached down into Starlight’s pack and pulled out her daggers. Flipping one of them between her fingers, she began cutting. Absolutely useless. She got through two strips before screaming in frustration.
Looking around, she couldn’t see Illyan and Moondancer. Zhal was dismounted from Noxus and moving towards them. Her hand wrapped at the hilt of her sword.
Before she could reach them, men on horses charged at them.
“Stop!” Kaed shouted, but it was futile. Their attackers had drawn their swords and were charging straight at the three of them. “Shit.”
In an instant, Kaed grabbed Azahara and rolled off Starlight. Her landing was cushioned by his body, but she could feel that the fall had injured him. A groan escaped his lips, causing her to panic. “Kaed!”
“No time,” he gasped through the pain. “Get the net.”
Fighting the urge to prioritize Kaed’s well-being, she attempted to break free of the restraints. It felt like an endless struggle, and with each effort, the net seemed to tighten, intensifying her sense of confinement.
Flashbacks of his hand on her neck, choking away her air and freedom, surged in her mind.
The net’s unforgiving embrace resembled being dragged into the abyss, the fear of never seeing Kaed again gripping her heart.
In that moment, her state of mind teetered on the edge, and her body felt immobilized.
Azahara felt herself being dragged deeper into a nightmarish realm, and it seemed impossible to escape. Then, a voice within urged her, Find the weak spot. You have to protect them. She cursed under her breath and summoned every ounce of strength.
With a spark of determination, she pulled and tore at the coarse net. Finally, she found a weak point and swiftly sliced through it with her obsidian dagger. As the opening grew large enough for her to fit through, she didn’t hesitate but wriggled her way to freedom.
Her eyes were laser-focused on finding Zhal, who was effortlessly bringing down the riders. Illyan and Moondancer had reached them, engaged in a struggle with one of the men who was trying to grab Moondancer’s reins.
Azahara turned back to help Kaed through the hole in the net. “It’s the Order,” he said, rising to his feet, his face etched with pain.
He took a visibly deep breath, and then, with his voice raised louder than she had ever heard before, he declared, “I’m with the Order! Fourth squadron of the Western Port.”
“Brandish your coding,” someone shouted.
Azahara hadn’t even noticed the nearly twenty men approaching from their left.
Where had this army been when the Vaeragi had attacked them?
Her frustration was not so much about the current ambush as it was about the lack of attention when it was truly needed.
“K. B. 1000237,” Kaed stated without hesitation. “Aligned with the King’s Eagles.”
“Soaring far,” the human male replied, placing two fingers against his wrist.
“In his name,” Kaed echoed the sentiment. Almost simultaneously, they dragged their fingers down their wrists and hands to the opening of their palms. “Till the end.”
“Are the Fae and Vaeragi with you?” the man asked.
“Yes,” Kaed responded promptly.
“Tell the giant to release my men.”
Zhal had three men pinned to the ground beneath her, her sword poised to strike if Azahara gave the word. She sensed Kaed tugging on her hand and met his eyes, where his unspoken plea for her to command Zhal to stop was evident.
Nodding, Azahara called out, “It’s okay. Release them.”
Zhal promptly withdrew her sword, leaving the men unharmed.
As the human man in gold and black armor approached, Azahara stepped away from Kaed. They saluted each other and then clasped hands in a firm shake. She felt Zhal come up behind her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Azahara replied, even though it was clear she wasn’t. While her body showed no physical injuries, her mind was haunted by the memories of being trapped.
Zhal pivoted, her words laced with demand. “Don’t deceive me; I will sense it.” Her gaze inspected Azahara, searching for any signs of injury, while Kaed engaged in conversation from the background.
“General Olaniyan.” A man of many years, with a gray beard that matched the hair on his head. In every aspect, he appeared human, except for his extraordinary size—the head of a mouse atop a chest of a giant. “Why are you here, ranger?”
Kaed straightened, reverting to his training in an instant. “We were on our way to your outpost, General. There was a raiding party, and we heard you were seeking information about it.”
Olaniyan turned his gaze toward Zhal. “Yes, but it seems they have already been dealt with.”
Azahara’s sense of unease grew. How did he know... She turned to look at the General, her throat feeling tight, and she felt Zhal’s hand squeezed her shoulder—a gentle reminder to remain composed.
“Come. We will discuss this back at the camp,” Olaniyan said, his gaze lingering on Azahara. His expression remained stoic as he added, “This camp has a lot of lonely men, ranger. Please keep this one behind closed doors.”
Zhal responded with a throaty, loamy growl.
Azahara didn’t need to look at Kaed to sense his anger simmering beneath the surface. His sense of duty kept him from lashing out. “Yes, General,” he replied, his tone tinged with unspoken frustration.