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PRELUDE — JOHN CARTER COMES TO EARTH
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He was indeed outside of the city walls.
Near one of the farms and he then spied a horse tied to its gate. He checked quickly for guards or farmers as he loaded his crossbow with a bolt. Not that it mattered, for he would make short work of them with his crossbow, but it seemed that the farmers were either inside or within the city walls, and he smiled.
The guards were most certainly dead. He had seen to that with his men. The Old Man too, and he had the fragments. All of them. He untied the horse and grabbed its bridle firmly to calm it down as it fidgeted. If there were any Companions left that is. It reared a bit, but he dug his boots into the animals flesh and pulled hard at its bit, hurting its mouth, breaking its spirit. Forward to Driftshade. He gave the city one look back and then continued his hard ride. Seventy-five men came to Whiterun and only one made it out.
With all the fragments. He felt the wound in his thigh tear again as he slipped on the wet stone floor, and fresh blood now flowed. Honthjolf swallowed, his throat dry with dehydration and fatigue, eventhough there was rain everywhere. He was starting to feel it. The drawbridge blocked them to some extent, but the bandits were still taking shots at him and he no longer heard any arrows from his fellow guards. A lot of men died today, more than the amount that lost their lives to the dragon at the Watchtower. Another damn rainy day. He took a deep breath, channeling his pain and took another arrow from his quiver.
He was down to five, and they knew it. Honthjolf turned quickly and drew his bow, grimacing as the pain shot up his left arm. He fired, striking a bandit in the knee. He ducked when he saw several arrows shot back in retaliation. He could then retrieve some arrows. No werewolves here, though he knew they sometimes roamed the tundra. Arrows were arrows. Damn, most of them were wearing it, and they were armed to the teeth. His arrows did nothing to them, unless he hit them in the knees. He had already picked off the ones in the lighter gear.
Bless the saucy lad, still had some fight in him.
The Chessmen of Mars
The boy was a pincushion. He needed to get to the lad quickly, and he climbed slowly onto the ramp leading to the drawbridge mechanism. Come up here and lower the lever yourself! Honthjolf narrowed his eyes when he suddenly observed two small forms scaling the slick rock work and stone walls behind the bandits. More bandits?
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