A long day - short I

Callan struggled for the next hand hold above him. Arrows sliced through the air around him, too close for comfort. He could feel the ledge with his left hand. An arrow struck that arm and bounced off the light mail shirt he was wearing. He grimaced through the pain maintaining his hold, and then pulled himself onto the ledge. The ledge was, at most, six feet wide and maybe twice that length along the cliff wall. He expeditiously moved away from the edge allowing the ledge to give him some protection from the barrage of arrows. He drew his long knives. He could hear the sounds of Turanian mercenaries scrabbling up the cliff wall after him.

The sun was appearing over the mesa across from him, bathing the gorge and this ledge in fiery orange morning light. It was time for him to prepare an ambush. Today was going to be a long day.