Planetfall by Hart D D

Author:Hart, D D
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent Publishing Network
Published: 2023-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

Darkhorn Pass

Dexter stared out over Balsoria from the eastern end of Darkhorn Pass, and wondered if he could ever justify the view. Wearily, he shook his head - he didn't think so, it had cost far too many lives. Even his mind didn't want to think about it, and shied away, preferring a safe state of vacant consciousness where it could drift inertly. He watched the dirty grey clouds rolling in from the northeast, to scrape over the sharp peaks of the Darkhorns. Grey clouds leached with white, that scudded above him in wide banks, and left little opportunity for the early morning sun to burst through, and judging from the darkness in the distance, could only promise rain for the day ahead. They could do with the rain, he thought absently, it would help wash away all the blood he had spilt. He shivered, despite the pleasant ambient temperature, chilled by the unwelcome memory. A lonely beam of sunlight pierced the gloom above and bathed him in unexpected warmth, and he stretched his stiff muscles carefully, as he remembered that his medi-patch supply was now limited. But the stretch felt good, and he closed his eyes as he pushed his arms high above his head.

The clouds snuffed out the errant sunbeam and Dexter opened his eyes to stare at the rolling landscape beneath him. It would be warmer down there, he guessed, hotter and humid - just as well it was cooler up here, otherwise the stench of burnt and rotting corpses would be overwhelming, and the flies - ugh! He shook his head as if to cast away the unwelcome thought, and concentrated instead upon the vista stretching out before him. Balsoria was certainly different to Hvar, for a start, the mountains on this side of the pass were much steeper, and the road fell away beneath him in a series of wide zigzags, to be lost in early morning mist below. Further out, a patchwork of cultivated strips and forest dominated the rolling landscape, splashing a variety of green, yellow and brown colours, seemingly at random. Beyond the mist, he could make out the road where it cut across the rolling countryside, meandering like a river into the distance where he thought he could see a small city or town. Beyond that and to his left he could see another road, although given its size, he figured it must be a river, and a wide one at that.

He rubbed his left hand across his chin, and a thought came to him - a green and pleasant land - now where had he heard that before? He scratched the day-old stubble contemplatively, but couldn't remember. The beginnings of his beard felt rough and unfamiliar to him, and he had no means now of shaving it, not since his horse lost his pack somewhere in the woods before the battle yesterday. Bloody Comfort! What on earth had made him give the animal such a stupid name? If he wanted a shave, he would have to use one of the sharp knives that the Ashur favoured.

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