Rising Ch.5

Or he had been betrayed from within. Methaniel shuddered at the very thought, unable to accept that someone within his country would do such a thing to him. He had served King and Country faithfully for as long as he could recall, before he’d even reached his adulthood years. Why would he be betrayed? And even as his mind ran through these things, it slid back to the strange arrow that was even now tucked in his traveling pack. Did it too somehow play into these strange occurrences? He did not see how it couldn’t. The attacks on him had been persistent indeed. 

He pondered where to slip away to for the time being. The southern roads were out of the question. They were doubtless watched even now, and most certainly would be as soon as his pursuers had gathered themselves enough to realize he had escaped. They would expect him to circle around the city and turn that way.

For the time being, Methaniel let Lanion continue north. The horse carried them away from the city for another three hours, slowing to a canter but still tirelessly bearing his riders on without complaint. Several times Methaniel reined the warhorse in and gazed at his surroundings, getting his bearings while scanning for any sign of pursuit at the same time.

Ahma shifted in his arms, her feathers brushing against his side. Methaniel glanced down at the young girl, who seemed to have fallen asleep for the moment. Still she shivered and trembled, but she seemed to have calmed some and adjusted slightly to the chill of the exposed night. Her face shone in the moonlight from the streaks of her tears. The Nobleman watched her for a long moment. She seemed to have withered somehow in the wake of the night’s horror. 

And truly, so would he have but for the fact he had ever been a man of action, his life steeped in violence for the last number of years. He was able to slip into the mind frame of a solder, telling himself today was just another day of close calls and dangerous maneuvers. His heart ached for Ahma, for his men, for her brothers and all the gentle and good folk that had been in his service. But even more it burned, a fierce and shining fire in his eyes that required retribution and vengeance for the wrongs committed against the innocents who had simply been in the way of the men who sought his death. Those wronged would be avenged, he swore to himself. It was all that drove him now.

But, he realized, that was not entirely true. His eyes drifted down to the woman pressed to him. Ahma. She alone had been spared from the greedy hands that reached for him, cutting down all others in its way. She, too, would prove to be his salvation. 

His atonement. 

Gazing upon her soft, flawless face, Methaniel swore then that he would do all in his power to protect and preserve this gentle, kind, loyal woman. She had ever served his father, to the very end of his days, and she had given him a piece of the dear man back in the brief days that they had talked of him. 

Methaniel’s silver eyes returned to the girl unbidden. She was lovely, flawless, beautiful beyond measure. She had the face of a queen, of a daughter of royalty, not of a humble servant. And yet she had ever been faithful and supportive to his father, and then to him after. Even though he had known her but briefly in his younger years, and spent even less time with her these last few days, he knew her heart to be gentle and pure, and her loyalty unwavering and sure. He would protect her. At least until he could find her a place to live a quiet, peaceful life befitting her gentle soul, and leave her in the safety and happiness that she deserved. Surely he could help her to a town where she could move on with her life.

As the night reached its midpoint, the horse and his two riders came upon a thicket of woods stretching at the foot of the Northern Mountain Pass. Lanion slowed to a trot, and then a walk as the trees surrounded them, the snow laden branches arching overhead to blot out some of the starlight. Methaniel waited for his eyes to adjust before leading the horse further into the woods. Ahma suddenly jumped,yelping sharply and jerking back, her wings flapping as she came out of her frightful dream and into an equally frightening reality.

“Calm,” Methaniel whispered to her, his voice seeming loud in the hush of the forest. He gently caressed her hair till her eyes focused dazedly upon him, adjusting to the low visibility.

“We are safe, for the moment. We have fled from the city and we are in the wild. You are alright.” He soothed. Ahma gazed at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then her eyes began to shine with moisture as the full weight of the night finally came crashing onto her.

She remained silent for a long time. The horse continued forward at a slow but steady pace and Master held her close. Her eyes gazed into the darkness, hollow and lost and wet with tearful memories. Even the freezing night air didn’t faze her, hardly even registering in her senses. 

Her mind was shocked and raw. The torment of memories sucked away any will she had. It was the same, all over again. Mother and Father had died all over again in her mind. It was only due to her brother’s love and refusal to let her die that she had continued living. Her brothers…they had saved her again from a horrible fire…only they hadn’t, had they? She could only feel one body close to her, and it was far larger than either of her brothers had been. And she sat upon a horse instead of dangling between the two of them as they labored to fly her to safety. It was all wrong…confusion swam through Ahma’s mind for a moment, a swirl of flames and blood and cries for mercy. It all finally came into perfect, heart-breaking clarity as Master Methaniel called our Lanion’s name. Her brothers, dead. Her home, destroyed. The terror of the flight from Durinum…she was chilled to the bone, so cold that she ached all over. Her lips and ears felt numb. A violent shiver came over her.

Methaniel pressed his arm more firmly to her body. Though he too was cold, his meager warmth seemed to radiate strongly against her through their clothes. She thought perhaps she should not be so close to him; it seemed somewhat inappropriate for a servant to be so near her Master, but she doubted he would let her go. He seemed intent on keeping her near, and as cold as she was, she was hardly going to argue with that notion.

She wondered in the back of her mind what happened to her friends at the Manor. Given the severity of the attack, most of them probably perished. Given the loss of her brothers, it was a small blow on top of many others. The cold served to numb her pain and her thoughts. She was focusing most of her energy on how cold she was; it was a far better misery than dwelling on her thoughts.

The Master lightly tapped the horse with his foot, turning him to the right. Lanion plodded forward, his hoof falls muffled softly by the snow packed on the ground. 

“Winter is closing, fast…it will be two days, three perhaps before its full embrace is upon us.”

After several moments they came upon a clearing. He dismounted and helped Ahma off the horses back, then patted Lanion’s side affectionately. “Good boy, Lanion. You did well. Very good. Go find something to chew on before you rest.”

Lanion snorted loudly and tossed his glistening mane, then walked slowly toward a grouping of trees at the edge of the clearing and nosed at their base, trying to find some remnant of old grass below the snowfall.

Methaniel turned his attention to the young Wingling girl, gazing down at her as he lifted one large hand to rub his jaw. “We’re going to have to stay here tonight, Ahma. I’m not sure what to do yet, but we have to lay low till daylight, at the least. I need some time to think.”

Ahma nodded numbly, gazing into nothingness.

Methaniel’s hand rested suddenly upon her shoulder, the rough leather of his riding gloves stiff from the cold. “Are you okay, Ahma?”

Ahma turned her eyes up to his. Her great brown orbs shimmered softly with unshed tears, and red laced through their whites. She swallowed softly and realized how dry her mouth was. “I’m okay,” she croaked.

“Be strong. We’ll get through this,” he assured her. “We have to keep an even head and decide what must be done. We do not have much time to come to a decision. Come, let us move under the trees. The snow is thinner there.”

Ahma followed him silently as he walked to the trees just to the left of where Lanion nosed. She wrapped her arms and her wings tightly about her, trying to chase off the chill as best she could and find some measure of warmth. She shook still. Methaniel reached down and brushed the snow under the tree to the side, doing his best to push and shift it aside to make a semi-dry patch of ground under the tree.

Both of them sank down gratefully, ignoring the rough bark pressing into their backs as they leaned against the tree.

The Wingling girl drew her knees up to her bosom, shivering softly as she tuckered her feet into her gown. She longed for a coat, a cloak, anything to keep warm by. 

“What has happened?” she whispered softly.

Methaniel sighed, shutting his eyes as he shrugged slightly. “I am not sure…I can only assume that I have caught the attention of someone…someone powerful. They have tried to kill me, thrice now, and each time they become ever bolder and more persistant.”

“They…they’re the same people who attacked when you arrived back home, aren’t they?”

“I believe so.”

Ahma shivered uncomfortably, feeling miserable and lost.

“Come here,” Methaniel said softly as he put and arm around her and gently pulled her closer. Her gaze slid up to his face with great wide eyes.

“Master?”

“We have no cloaks, no coats, no thick clothing,” Methaniel pointed out. “We may freeze to death tonight…”at these words, she began to shake even harder, “But the more body heat we share the better our chances of survival. I have no tinder box or flint, and without one the wood is doubtlessly too damp from the snow to catch by itself. This is the only way.”

Ahma nodded slowly and sank against him, pulling one wing around to cover the both of them. She felt the Master sigh softly and his muscles untense slightly. His arms rubbed at her shoulder gently, trying to help return circulation and warmth. She could hardly feel his touch for how cold she was.

Several moments later, Lanion shuffled up to them. He shifted on his legs for a moment before sinking down to the ground in front of them, his large body pressing against them and sharing his warmth. Methaniel smiled and reached out one arm to scratch behind the horse’s ear. Lanion turned one eye to catch Methaniel in his equine stare.

Ahma was lost in thought, trying to come to terms with the recent trauma of having her home and friends snatched and burned away, as well as the horrible resurfacing memories of her childhood. Her heart pounded as she struggled to keep calm and coherent. She would be nothing but a hinderance to Master Methaniel if she were a panicking mess, and while she wasn’t sure she could do anything to help him, he had saved her life by bringing her along in his flight from Durinum, and she would certainly try to assist him.

“I do not think we can stay upon the mountain,” Methaniel said suddenly.

Ahma glanced up at him, shivering and huddled against the Master and Lanion for warmth. “What do you mean, Master?”

“I believe those who seek my life are, at the least, able to operate within Durinum without fear of reprisal or interference from guards and royal authority. Why this is, I do not know. It is not important, just now. But I think it likely that they may be able to do this just as well throughout all of the Kingdom, and not just the capitol. I do not know if there is anywhere within the borders of the Durinum lands that we can count ourselves safe.”

Methaniel fell silent, thinking as quickly as he could. He needed to make a decision, for the longer they bided they stayed in one place without a clear plan, the easier it would be for those who hunted him to close in on them. He was convinced now that they had to flee the lands of Durinum, to get out of the mountains.

But how to do that? He did not trust the southern roads. They had been allowed to escape through the north gate far too easily…he had known the moment they passed through it was a trap. Likely, they sought to draw him into the open, thinking he would take the southern route to escape. They likely lay in ambush along the way even now. If not along the southern Mesenla road, then at Stonefall Gorge just southwest of that, where he would be forced into an area they could easily trap him. They intended to coral him, for he honestly only had one other option. 

The north. The only other true way for him to flee off the mountain. He would have to cut north through the Northern Pass and deeper into the mountains, and then follow the largely forgotten eastern trail till it looped around south and began its downward climb and emptied out of the mountains and into the flatlands the neutral land at the foot of the Durinum mountain chains and the tribelands of the Naemer to the east, and the city-states of Belingor further south.

The eastern, and even more so the northern reaches of the mountain were a hard and punishing land. They were almost impossible to traverse, with little in the way of resources and even less in the way of settlement. Few knew of the pass’s very existence, as it was so treacherous it was only traveled by the most desperate of people. The most desperate, or the most foolish. The only reason he even knew of its existence was because of his military experience, his station as a commander in the Durinum royal army having given him access to the most detailed and up to date of maps. It was a wild, unconquered reach of the mountains, with even harsher weather than Durinum suffered. And with winter fast approaching, it would be a nigh on suicidal journey.

Of course, death was equally as sure should he turn south, or remain in Durinum lands. At least if he turned north, he had the smallest glimmering of a hope. And with hope, Methaniel would push himself stubbornly beyond any obstacle. The mountains would prove treacherous and difficult for him, and for Lanion, and truly any ordinary horse would never have been able to navigate the uneven, sloping, rocky paths and passages of the mountains. But then, Lanion was far from ordinary, in any respects.

And what of Ahma? He glanced down at her, his eyes playing over her pale face. Could she possibly make such a journey? And would she even want to? No, he thought to himself. He couldn’t possibly endanger her so, especially after all she had already been through.

“Ahma?” he spoke.

“Yes, Master?” she said through chattering teeth. He pulled his arms closer around her.

“I will leave this land. But I cannot do this without the proper supplies. I…I do not think that I can show my face in Durinum without being recognized or watched.”

“Okay?” Ahma said hesitantly.

Methaniel swallowed. “I know that what I ask will put you into great danger…and if you are not willing to do this, I understand; this is a request, not an order. Would you go into the city tomorrow and buy a list of supplies for me if I provide you with the coin?”

Ahma didn’t speak for a moment, thinking it through. He was right, it would be dangerous. There was a risk someone might recognize her as a servant, or worse, believe her a slave, and apprehend her. There were precious few free Winglings in Durinum these days. But it would be far safer for her than it would be for Master Methaniel. The searching attackers would likely recognize him immediately. She had a far greater chance of slipping in unnoticed.

“I will do it,” she nodded.

Methaniel let out a soft sigh and shut his eyes once more. “Thank you. As soon as we get the supplies, I will try to find some way to get you to a village where you can start a new life. I will do this before I leave the land, I promise.”

“Leave the land?” Ahma asked softly.

“Yes,” Methaniel nodded. “It is as I said, I do not think I can stay here without these men who pursue me noticing my presence. The best thing I can do is to slip off the mountain and out of their grip. I will decide what to do beyond this when I can breath a little easier.”

Ahma nodded, resting her head against his chest. She felt numb inside. He was leaving her? She did not want that. She did not want to serve another Master, in another estate. Master Methaniel’s land had been her home.

“Do you think you can find a house that will take me? I know many places do not encourage Wingling servants.”

“Servant?” Methaniel repeated, then smiled softly. “No, Ahma. I won’t be taking you to serve in another house. I will provide you with enough money to live off of. You will be free to do as you like.”

“Master?” she said softly as she turned her gaze up to him.

“This is something we should worry about later. For now, we need to rest,” Methaniel said quietly.

“Very well, Master,” Ahma murmured, and laid her head back on his chest.

She would be free? What did she know about freedom? She had been working as a servant for years…it was almost all that she knew how to do. And she did not want to leave Master Methaniel…

It was all a bad dream, or so she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps, in sleeping, it would all go away, and she would find herself waking to the world she knew and understand. She told herself this repeatedly in her head as she drifted into a cold, restless blackness.

End Ch. 5

This took awhile for me to get to, but I think it turned out pretty well. More excitement and adventure to come, so stay tuned, and please let me know what you all think!