The first wave of Light bats smashed upon Astor and his men. The small, yet fierce creatures covered the whole place in an instant, bitting the open skin of men and crawling into their clothes and accessories. The horses were affected the most. Blind with pain and fear they rose on their hind legs and cried out fiercely. Luckily, all of them had been tethered already, or they would have run away into the forest and would have been lost forever.
Juran drew out his Cereb spear. It sizzled and shimmered in the darkness and set ablaze all the flying creatures in a twenty feet radius circle. In the meantime, Astor managed to crack his whip and summon a blazing dome of fire above and around them. The glowing red of the fire lured out swirms of Light bats incessantly and kept on swallowing them instantly. Soon the forest around them fell silent again, all the bats in the vicinity having been destroyed already.
Astor patted Juran's back. "That was pretty fast and effective! Seems you've been in such a situation many a time!" He said.
Juran didn't bother to reply. He had taken out a small bottle from his backpack and was busy rubbing its roll-on cap on the numerous small wounds made by the bats on his open skin. Having treated his own wounds, he passed it on to Astor.
"Treat yourself and your men with it and return it to me," he said. Then he moved away towards the horses. The animals needed some treatment, too. Astor stared at his back as he walked away. He couldn't help but feel admiration for the man there.
The night turned out to be a cold and dark one. It was two days after New Moon and the lean scythe of moon hid itself behind the canopy of leaves and branches above their heads. The men had eaten their meal and were now making themselves comfortable inside their portable pods. Juran couldn't sleep so early. He sat on the stump of an old tree, a few feet away from the sleeping men and stared intently into the darkness in front of him.
Slowly, the darkness stirred. A small and furry quadruped as black as night emerged from the darkness and trotted within a few feet from Juran. There it halted and tilting its face in his direction, sniffed his smell.
'A Sarohan dog!' Juran thought. It was a unique species of dogs, found only in the mountains of Saroha. They were yet to start climbing the mountains and it was really unlikely to spot one of those dogs in the foot of the mountain. 'Perhaps we are already being watched and this dog is here to track us?' He thought at first. Then he discarded the idea. 'It can't be! A trained tracker dog would never expose itself in this way! Perhaps it really is a curious one, separated from its pack?'
As he turned these thoughts in his mind, the dog inched closer to him. Finally, it came in front of him and wagging its tail, stood up on its hind legs, putting its front paws on his knees.
Surprised, Juran patted its head. "This dog must have already been trained. It can't be a wild one!" He thought. But he didn't have any means to confirm it. The dog on the other hand, let Juran pat him and lay down at his feet, curling itself into a ball.
'So it's a watchdog indeed!' Juran thought as he picked the dog up in his lap. 'You're gonna stick around us and watch our way! Fine with me!' He thought and smiled to himself.
Wrapping himself in his hooded clothes Juran sat down under a tree and leaned against its trunk. As he spread out his legs, the dog came and lay down by his side. Soon he fell asleep but the dog stayed awake and vigilant.
**************************
The sun had rolled to the middle of the sky when the six horsemen started climbing the first mountain of Saroha range. It was not very steep, but the dense forest covering the mountain made their progress slow. Quite often they had to clear the undergrowth with axes and hunting knives to make a path.
Towards afternoon they reached the summit and stood there looking at the valley downward. It was a narrow one, tucked behind another gigantic wall of mountain which rose to the sky in front of them. Astor declared that they should ride down the mountain into the valley and make their camp for night in it. So they started climbing down into the valley.
It was a majestic view from every point. A small stream ran eastward through the valley. Around its banks lush meadows sprawled, dotted with colourful wild flowers. The water of the stream was clear, revealing the colourful fishes moving beneath the glassy surface. The men stood there, rendered speechless by the serene beauty of the place.
"Let's prepare for the night camp," Astor said. "Juran? Is there anything about this place that we should be careful about?"
Juran was staring at the mountain in front of them, his brows drawn together. "There's something off about this place, but I can't tell exactly what it is," he said absent-mindedly. "Anyway, we should be vigilant here," he said and went to pick up the dog which had kept at their heels all the day. Tired, it had still been following Juran around. Now he picked it up and scratched it behind its ears. Then he took out a tin of salted meat from his backpack and started to feed the dog. It tilted its head and ate from his hand with its eyes closed. 'Eat, mate!' Juran murmured, and leaving the dog to eat to its heart's content, he went to make his bed on a large, flat stone on the side of the stream.
Soon after the night fell, the men completed their meal and retired for the night. Like the previous night Juran sat on the stone sleepless for a long time. Astor joined him for some time and talked about their next journey, but he, too started to feel sleepy after some time and went into his sleeping pod. Only Juran and the dog stayed awake and waited with bated breath, for the air around them slowly started to feel heavy and oppressive.
As Juran felt the sudden change in air, he went to Astor's pod and shook him awake. "Get your men ready. We are in grave danger," he said as soon as Astor opened his eyes.
Astor didn't lose a second. Within a few seconds the men gathered in a small circle in the middle of the valley. With their backs towards the centre of the circle, the men stood, armed and expectant.
The first rumble of thunder reached their ears in a few minutes. It didn't take them long to understand that it was not thunder, but huge boulders running down the mountain in front of them, that had been making that ear-splitting noise.
Astor's men started throwing fiery arrows to break the boulders in millions of tiny pebbles. As they began to shower down upon them, Astor's whip created an arc of fire in the sky above them which melted and vaporized the pebbles before they fell on them.
Juran used his fire-breathing spear to break particularly huge blocks of stone. But they were just too many and came crashing at them relentlessly. The resistance from Astor's men started to falter. Chunks of smashed boulders began to reign down on them every now and then, hitting them occasionally.
Suddenly, a boulder the size of a fist shoot down in a lightening speed and hit Juran in the head. With a muffled cry he fell on the ground. In a few seconds he was almost buried in chunks of stones. The same fate followed Astor and his men, too.
Slowly, the valley fell quiet again. The stream flowed murmuring, its banks covered with stones. A faint barking sound was heard as the dog wiggled its way out of the debris and began to dig around a mound of stones. But it was an impossible task for it. So it resigned, and after standing there for some minutes, it began to run in the opposite direction. It was going to look for help.
