Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 355: The Chase

The sun had barely breached the horizon when Luki stood at the edge of the camp, eyes fixed on the fading hoofprints in the dewy grass. The forest on their left was quiet now—eerily so, as if it too held its breath. The embers of the fire still glowed behind him, but the heat of his fury had long since surpassed their warmth.

The scent of the leaves drenched by the droplets of the morning dew clung to the air. He exhaled slowly.

"They have a night’s head start, but they couldn’t be traveling the entire night," his deputy muttered, adjusting the straps of his leather armor.

"They left traces," Luki said coldly. "That means they were rushed. Good! Desperation makes people sloppy."

In the distance, he saw the dust rising in the air. His reinforcements had arrived! ƒгeewёbnovel.com

And with them—the horses!

He mounted the black stallion that was his original steed when he was still the bandit leader. The reinforcements he called were not the soldiers or guards of the North but former bandits who lived among the common people. Luki always kept a few things hidden from his general and his own men. Trust, after all, was a currency he never spent freely.

Fifty of his best riders formed up behind him—lean men with cold eyes, all handpicked. He didn’t want the bulk of the camp slowing him down, and no shouting fools. No half-trained guards. Just the wolves.

"Take something you can carry," he ordered. "We ride light, we ride fast. And when we find them..." He smiled, cruel and sharp. "Show no mercy. Bring back the generals alive. Especially that servant girl."

"The servant?" one of them asked, surprised.

Luki’s eyes narrowed. "She’s no servant. She’s something else entirely. I guessed she is the fabled daughter of General Odin, who joined in the war two years ago."

He didn’t elaborate. There was no need. They would see soon enough.

They plunged into the trail beside the dense woods at full gallop, hooves pounding the soft earth. The trail was faint in places, but Luki’s eyes missed nothing. Broken twigs. Muddy footprints. Faint traces of ash where someone had tried to conceal a small fire. All signs pointed toward the river.

"They’re avoiding the forest interior," the scout whispered. "Sticking close to the riverbank."

"Cowards," one of the riders sneered.

"No," Luki said. "They’re protecting something or someone. Families, maybe. Injured. If they were all fighters, they’d have gone uphill and vanished in the cliffs."

"Maybe, it’s the pregnant woman and the children," the deputy captains suggested.

"Probably..." Luki shared.

He tilted his head, listening. A bird call echoed unnaturally—too sharp, too regular.

He signaled a halt with one raised fist. The party stopped instantly.

"They have scouts," he murmured. "Watch the ridgelines."

Sure enough, moments later, one of Luki’s men spotted a flutter of movement among the rocks above the cliffs. A distant figure—a young man in patched traveling gear—vanished from sight almost as soon as he was seen.

"We’re close," the deputy said.

"They know we’re behind them," Luki muttered. "But that won’t save them."

By noon, they found the first sign of strain: a trail where the sidecar had scraped against a rock outcrop, splinters and wheel marks veering awkwardly off the path.

"They’re moving the pregnant woman," Luki said, dismounting to study the tracks. "Or someone who can’t walk."

He crouched, brushing dirt from the edge of the rut.

"They’re headed toward the Ponte Pass," said the scout. "You know that land better than anyone."

Luki straightened slowly, a dark glint in his eyes. "Yes. And they’ve just walked into the cage."

...

Far ahead, Lara and the others struggled to keep the pace. The horses were tired. Children cried softly.

"We need to rest," Aramis said, pulling his horse to a halt near the ridge. "Just an hour. The mounts will collapse at this rate."

"No," Lara said firmly. "He’s chasing us. I know it. We must make it past the Ponte Pass before sundown. Father said it’s the only point where we can slow them down."

Behind her, Atalia groaned softly in the sidecar. Amnon wiped sweat from his brow but said nothing. He would keep pushing no matter how difficult the path was. Worst case, he would transfer Atalia on horseback.

Suddenly, a distant falcon cry split the sky. Three sharp calls—then silence.

Lara froze. She turned to Alaric.

"They are close. That falcon belonged to them." Redon, who was still panting, came from behind and reported.

Alaric nodded grimly. "We have maybe two hours before he catches up."

Odin stepped forward, his eyes hard. "Then we’ll give them a fight they won’t forget."

The terrain narrowed as they approached the Ponte ridgeline. On one side, a sheer cliff dropped into a ravine veined with white water; on the other, jagged rock walls rose like broken teeth. The path here was barely wide enough for two horses to ride abreast.

Lara stared at it grimly. "This is where we make our stand."

Odin stepped beside her, scanning the terrain like a seasoned general. "Perfect choke point. They’ll have to come single file. If we can block this path, we can buy the others a few hours."

Aramis was already climbing a ledge to get a better view. "There’s an outcrop up there—we can drop rocks. Force them to dismount."

"Then do it," Odin barked. "We don’t have time for second guesses."

Alaric turned to the group. "Anyone who can’t fight, keep moving. Agilus, take the lead with the families and make for the southwestern trail. General Odin, you, Asael, Galahad , and Bener take the rear guard with me. Aramis, Redon, you know what to do." Alaric turned into commander mode and issued his commands.

Redon and Aramis handed the Norse men the bows and arrows, latest improved version that Hephastus created.

"I’m staying with you," Alaric turned to face Lara and said quietly.

Lara met his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded and pulled her cloak tight against the wind sweeping through the pass. She fiddled with the bow that Redon handed her. It expanded into a 1.8-meter-long bow, a brilliant invention of Gideon after two years of apprenticeship with Hephastus.

...

Hours behind them, Luki dismounted and studied the narrowing trail with satisfaction.

He sniffed the wind.

"Ponte Pass," he murmured. "Clever little mice... running right into the trap."

The lead scout returned, panting. "They’re not far ahead, Captain. We spotted them moving into the ravine. About thirty strong left at the rear."

"Good," Luki said, mounting again. "We’ll crush the tail. No one escapes Ponte without bleeding."

His deputy hesitated. "Sir... it’s a tight pass. We should ambush before they cross Ponte Pass."

Luki smirked. "I hope it’s an ambush and not slaughter. I’ve been looking forward to shedding some blood."

He raised a hand, signaling the riders behind him.

"Ride hard. Shields up. Watch the cliffs. If they send rocks, keep pushing. This is our kill zone."

The riders grinned like wolves. They urged their mounts forward, weapons glinting in the early afternoon sun.

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