She needed to clear her head. She didn’t have time for this right now. She needed to concentrate. Legon would be coming out of the mountains at some point, and when he did they needed to leave and leave fast. She had already packed two backpacks with clothes and other essentials. Her father had collected Legon’s knives and cleavers and her mother had put together a package of medicine and food.
There was one road in and out of the valley. At the edge of the valley it split three ways. All they had to do was make it to the crossroads and then the queen’s men would be
hard-pressed to follow. From there she didn’t know what to do; they could stay in the empire or they could make a run for the Elves, but either way they would need to be careful. Sasha knew that Brack and Margaret were doing the same thing for Kovos and Keither. They all needed to leave the town for at least a few years, if not for the rest of their lives. She knew that all of the citizens of Salmont would be more than willing to help them leave; after all, one of their own had been killed. She also knew that if the men hadn’t been royal guards they would have probably been killed by the townspeople, but they were royal guards. That meant you didn’t do anything in the open because that was treason. That also meant a whole lot more people would be killed. Sasha spent the remainder of her day preparing to leave home for possibly the last time in her life, and hoping beyond hope that Legon was safe.
* * * * *
Safe was not how Legon saw himself at the moment. He found himself instead scared out of his mind and laying in mud. The men had been in the forest for hours looking for them. They had finally managed to track them to about ten feet from where Legon lay in the mud. He was right to think they were easy to track; even he hadn’t thought about what he was doing when he was running, so he figured a blind man could see the tracks they’d left.
But the soldiers were having a bit of a hard time now. They knew that the three fugitives were someplace in these woods, but the tracks ended and so they’d been branching out looking for them, and then returning to this place to start over again. One man always stayed behind, giving the others a point of reference. Legon was fine. He had spent many hours stalking deer while out hunting, so his muscles wouldn’t cramp for a long time yet. He knew how to move his weight without being seen.
However, he knew Kovos and Keither couldn’t do this, so he had put them somewhere they could just lay and not have to move. Legon was curled up in the roots of a tree and with the moss he had on himself he just looked like another root. The only problem was that this moss was full of bugs, one in particular that was trying to burrow its way into his back. After a few hours of this he didn’t know what was worse: the thought of being killed like Moleth, or having this bug spend another few hours burrowing into him. The more he thought about it and the more the irritation and pain in his back grew, the nicer the knife looked.
The bug bit into something sensitive. Pain shot through him and he gave an involuntary twitch… the soldier turned and looked right where he was but he didn’t do anything. He could see that the man was looking for whatever had made the noise, but was confused at the lack of anything other than moss-covered roots. Legon heard the sound of a bird landing on a branch above him.
The man relaxed and shook his head. Legon heard him mutter something but couldn’t make it out. He couldn’t see much. He needed to keep his head down, but after listening to the men he figured out who everyone was. The man in their area now was the one who had killed Moleth, which was something that the guard had spent a lot of time laughing about. This made Legon want to stand and fight the man, but he couldn’t. He needed to keep his head in this. He had to get Kovos and Keither out of here and then he had to make sure that his family was ok.
After a bit, the man started over to the tree and Legon felt the fear of knowing that while he might look like a root, if stepped on he wouldn’t feel like a root. The man’s feet stopped on either side of his head. Legon had his body contorted to look more random and sprawled out. He had most of his back against the tree. He wasn’t in a good fighting position. He couldn’t look up without giving away his location. He heard cloth being moved above him… the man was fumbling around with his cloak. He wasn’t making much noise, as if he were slowly and carefully getting something. It had to be a dagger. Probably the same one that killed Moleth.
He heard a soft chuckle. “There you are. You couldn’t hide forever.”
Chapter Eight
Into the Night
“Some say that when something ends, it’s just the beginning. Does this mean that nothing ends? No. Sometimes the end is just that—the end.”
-The River of Change
Arkin thought of the years of planning that had just gone out the window. They were early, way too early. It was probably the blasted star that had made them anxious. If only they had waited just two more months, everything would be going according to plan. At least one plan, anyway—he had three. He had always planned for this day but had hoped it would never come. Still, there was excitement coursing through him. The fact that they were here meant the prophecy had to be true, and they weren’t going to stop him, not after this long. All was fine for now. He had time to pack and get ready, but first it was time to report in.
* * * * *
Legon’s nose crinkled again at the pungent smell of urine. He had thought he was a goner. One of those bastards had been standing right above him fumbling around for something that Legon had thought was a knife. But it wasn’t a knife, or anything like a knife. He was only able to lie there motionless as the soldier urinated on the tree he was hiding under. It was humiliating. Nothing got on him, he thought, but still. In truth, he would have laughed if it had happened to someone else, but not him. This wasn’t funny.
He fought back his gag reflex and focused his mind back on the present. They were in a better position than before. The men were heading back down the mountain and would presumably set up camp on the outskirts of town or get a room at the tavern. The tavern was more likely. People in town would be looking to get revenge for Moleth’s death, and a room at the tavern would be easier to defend.
The sound of the men walking through underbrush was getting faint, and Legon thought it would be safe to stand up soon. Kovos and Keither were still motionless, waiting for Legon to make the first move. As soon as the sound of tromping feet faded to silence, he began to stand up. His muscles were reluctant to move after spending the past few hours cramped and motionless. The sun was all but gone and the moon was starting to rise overhead, casting the forest floor in shifting light that made everything blend into one speckled image.
“Get up quietly,” he said in a whisper.
There was the soft rustle of leaves and twigs as Kovos and Keither emerged from their hiding places. Kovos seemed to have developed a limp and was rubbing his leg.
“Leg fell asleep about a half hour in,” he said.
Keither also had a slight limp from the knee he fell on. Legon motioned the boy over. “Come here, Keither. Let me take a look at that knee.”
The boy came over and Legon bent to look. It was hard to see in the dark. He felt the area around the knee gingerly, telling Keither to lift his leg so Legon could move the joint. He rolled Keither’s muddy pants up past the injured knee and began to feel around the joint. He moved it in all directions and was amazed at his knowledge of it. Having his mother as the town healer helped, and being a butcher gave him a working knowledge of anatomy, but the thing that seemed to tie it all together was Arkin’s detailed lessons on anatomy and physiology.
Everything felt like it was in order. There was only slight inflammation of the knee, which suggested that the ligaments were intact. As he ran his fingers over the kneecap Keither started a bit, but the bone felt fine. There was a small gash that would take a few days to heal, but other than some bruising that was the extent of the damage.
“Everything seems to be fine, just try not to hurt it again in the next few days. That was a nasty fall, an
d you took it like a man. You did well today, Keither.”
A look of pride and astonishment crossed Keither’s face at the praise, and Legon realized that it was probably rare if ever that the boy was told that he did something well. Perhaps Keither was just in need of motivation.
“Do you have any other injuries?”
“No, no I’m fine I think… I don’t know,” said Keither timidly.
“I know what you mean. I don’t know up from down right now,” Legon said as he turned to Kovos, who held up his hand.
“I’m good, I didn’t get hurt.”
Keither broke in with a bit of a frantic voice, “So what the hell is going on? Why were those people after us?”
Kovos put his hands on his hips. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Keither, and we’ll tell you all about it later, but for the sake of this conversation I’d say it’s fair to guess that the empire knows there’s someone of Elven descent in Salmont, and the only way I can think that the empire would know that is if someone is trying to finish something they started eighteen years ago.” He let the last bit hang in the air.
Kovos had hit it right on the head. Somebody was here finishing a cleanup job, but what was even more frightening was that it was the queen who was cleaning up, not some
no-name Iumenta. Legon didn’t know much about the queen, but from what he did know, making mistakes was not in her nature. And if the queen of The Cona Empire did make a mistake, he assumed she would send in Iumenta to take care of it quietly, not the royal guard. They were not quiet in the least bit. If she had made a mistake then she wouldn’t want anyone in the empire, or out of the empire for that matter, to know about it, so why send royal guard? She had to know that her quarry was part Elf, and maybe full Elf. It didn’t make sense.
Legon started to pace. It didn’t make sense unless she didn’t know where to look in the empire. If that was the case, then she would need to send agents out to large parts of the empire. This helped explain part of the situation, but using humans still didn’t seem to make much sense.
Kovos broke his concentration. “Talk to us! I hate it when you pace.”
“Oh, sorry. Here’s what I’m thinking: the queen is looking for someone who fits my description, someone who may be part or full Elf. But she doesn’t know exactly where I am, because if she did…”
“… then she would send Iumenta for an Elf, not humans. I’m with you,” Kovos continued.
“Right. Now, because she doesn’t know where I am she has to send her men out all over the place to find me, and probably in small parties.”
“And she has to be counting on you not being full Elf yet, or not having been trained in combat, if she sent out royal guard. That’s perfect! The royal guard won’t attract too much attention and would be able to handle an untrained human,” Kovos said.
Both Kovos and Legon started when Keither broke in. They had almost forgotten he was there.
“I bet the men don’t even know what they might be dealing with, because if they did they would have used a little caution when trying to bring you in.”
“That’s probably true, Keither. I bet they think I’m some sort of a fugitive or something.” Legon said.
“Maybe. What about your back? I mean, do you think they would suspect magic?” asked Kovos.
“What’s wrong with your back?” asked Keither
“I have an Elven tattoo that was put there by magic, and now it’s turned from green to purple,” Legon said. He was caught off guard by the casual tone in his voice. Apparently his mind had decided that magic tattoos were old news compared to the current situation.
“A tattoo can be any color, and if the royal guard had suspected magic, don’t you think they would bring magic users themselves?” Keither asked.
Legon did a double take at this. Keither knew a lot more than he let on, or maybe the pain and panic of the day had jolted him into thinking. It was probably the latter. There are two kinds of people: those who fold under pressure and those that focus. Keither had to be the latter because not only was he thinking, but the news of Legon’s tattoo didn’t faze him at all. Keither had taken the news as just another piece of information.
The question was, how much pressure could Keither stand before he caved and lost control? Everyone had a limit, and when they hit it they hit it hard. Keither would need to keep his head for some time to come, because he was now in just as much trouble as Legon and Kovos. He had not only run from the royal guard, but he had also assaulted one, and that meant that he was going to have to come with Legon, Kovos, and Sasha. Legon came to this realization when he was hiding like a coward from the queen’s men, sometime between becoming a bug’s new burrow and a rather large and foul-smelling man almost urinating on him. The look on Kovos’ face also said that he too knew for his younger brother to be able to call Salmont home.
“We need to get back to town if we’re going to have a chance at getting out of this alive,” said Kovos grimly, and he nodded for Legon to lead the way.
* * * * *
Arkin’s senses were attuned to everything in his surroundings, from the cooling breeze that let him know he was almost to the top of the hill he was climbing, to the rustle of leaves in the distance. The air told him that he had about a half mile to go before he could find a way to get word out, and the leaves, well—that was just rabbits. They were young by the sound they made. If a predator didn’t pick them off in a few months they would learn to make less noise. He, on the other hand, was silent as he moved. The only sound anyone would be able to hear would sound like nature, nothing out of its place. They wouldn’t even know that an animal was there. A lifetime of training made sure that no one could track him. Soon he would be at the top and could report back in, and then hopefully he would get orders before someone messed things up.
* * * * *
Kovos felt his legs burn from staying crouched for so long. It had taken them twenty minutes to run to their hiding spot and three hours to get back down. They moved slowly now as Legon plotted a safe course. They wrapped around the town and were entering close to his house. They didn’t have a huge amount of time. The moon told him it was about eleven at night and they needed to pack and get out long before daybreak.
As they closed in on the sleepy houses he felt a pang as his eyes crossed Emma’s house. He wasn’t going to have time to say goodbye, and even if he did, what could he say? He would come back for her in two or three months. He’d come back and they could start their life together. That’s what was going to happen—if he didn’t get killed first.
He didn’t blame Legon for being forced to leave. He could have told the queen’s men the truth. He could have hid like a coward, but he wasn’t a coward. He had made his choice, and if he died it was his fault, not anyone else’s. Keither had chosen as well when he had charged that soldier. Maybe leaving would be good for Keither, teaching him how the world works and how to live in it.
They moved in the shadows of the buildings they passed, keeping close to the walls and doing everything not to make a sound. This wasn’t new to Kovos. After all, he did it all the time when he was going to visit Emma. If he could just have spent one more night with her or maybe…“Get yourself together! Now’s not the time to get sentimental!” he thought to himself.
There was still no sign of the soldiers. That was worrisome; they could be anywhere, maybe at their homes, maybe watching from somewhere out of sight. After all, it was royal guard they were dealing with here. Kovos could see his house. There was light coming from inside, but nothing to suggest that anything was amiss. They had made it home for probably the last time.
* * * * *
The hours after Legon got home were intense. His father had come home right before him, bringing the news that the soldiers had set up camp by the pond, putting them right next to the only road out of the valley. That wasn’t the problem Sasha was having right now. She had to figure what to bring based on what they were likely to need over
the next few weeks. They only had two horses and they just couldn’t bring that much, not if they needed to move fast. She had packed all the essential things early in the evening, but now it was down to what she wanted to bring that was hers—things to remember her parents and her old life.
She picked up her diary. That was a given, but what else? She didn’t have a lot of jewelry or fancy things, which depressed her because she didn’t have that much after all, but still… In the end, she managed to get everything into a few bags and began her way downstairs to load up the two horses and go. The abruptness of the day had removed almost all emotion from everyone. Normally people would be sad and crying at the parting of a family, but not in these circumstances. There was no room for emotion; things just needed to be done.
Her mother was in the kitchen writing down a few last notes in a book, which she handed to Sasha.
“Here. I know you don’t have much room, but I’ve been making this for you over the last few years. In it is everything I know about healing. I’m not saying you need to follow in my footsteps, but on the road…”
The tears were coming now. Sasha knew what her mother was thinking, because it was the same thing that had just crossed her mind: this was it. This was going to be the last time they had together as a family. After tonight nothing was going to be the same.
She did want to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She knew everything her mother did and would be a healer herself if it wasn’t for the episodes excluding her from getting a license. The book would be useful. Living on the run meant that she might need to get creative if someone got hurt.
She wrapped her arms around her mother and felt herself losing control, wanting to say that she wasn’t going, but this farewell was better than the one that would happen in a few months. At least now she would be leaving willingly. They parted, and without speaking walked out the back door. The air outside was cold, with a bite that only came in the early hours of the morning. Legon and her father were finishing up with the horses. Both were already saddled and had most of their meager belongings attached to them. The family owned a horse for each person. Legon’s black stallion was named Phantom and was a little on the older side, but still a great horse. Murray, Sasha’s horse, was brown and about five. She loved him, although he tended to bite.