Rylen ventured into the cave far enough for the light of the candle to be kept out of the line of sight. Then, he waited.

He heard the men draw nearer, to the point that he could make out what they said. The acoustics of the hard stone of the cave walls transmitted the noise directly enough for him to understand them.

When he realized that they knew he was in the cave, he quickly ventured deeper without waiting to hear more. He’d done his share of exploration in caves; many of them had several entrances, and he had to find one fast before they cut off that one too.

His stomach rumbled. Almost a week had passed since he’d eaten anything. He’d thought about pilfering food from town stalls, but his ankle still hurt when he walked on it. He couldn’t afford being chased after.

He made his way carefully through the space. He wasn’t familiar with it, and he was worried about hitting his head or, worse, falling down a sudden drop.

He checked the walls often, looking out for other passages that might lead him astray if he tried to return. He began to consider that perhaps they would just wait for him to come out on his own. There wasn’t any need to risk losing himself in the cave system.

His stomach rumbled again, and he realized that even then he would be fighting a losing battle. This was like a siege. He was in a highly defensible position, but they had all the food. He had none. Not to mention that his candle was already burned halfway down.

What would happen to him if he didn’t have any light? What about water? Water would be even more important. He only had what was on him and no more than that.

He stopped and found himself a level spot on the floor to rest on. Once settled, he hesitated, then pinched out the candle. A deep darkness enveloped him.

He waited for what felt like hours. No one came. He couldn’t hear the telltale scuffling of feet on stone that would give away his hunters.

His eyelids drooped, and his thoughts became his dreams.

***

It was the day after Rylen had ventured into the cave that Hyrestl snuck along the streets in the early morning dark toward Jak’s smithy. He’d spent the last evening exploring the fairgrounds with Pahanna. They’d seen a dancing bear, a tamed lion, even a small dragon no bigger than a cat. Musicians were everywhere, and their sounds filled the air along with the tantalizing aromas of exotic foods and incense. The loud murmur of people was constantly around them. Colors brighter than Hyrestl could have thought possible were everywhere. It was dazzling to the eyes and senses.

Torches and crystal lamps burned brightly. Though it was night, everything was lit as bright as day. Fires for warmth burned in many places where the heat of the crowds wasn’t enough to keep the chill at bay.

He remembered some of the food he had tasted with Pahanna, and his mouth watered anew. It was like a surreal dream.

Now, he was walking along barren, stone-paved streets before the dawn. Colorful banners and pennants hung from every building, but they did little to cover the drab grays and browns of the walls and roofs beneath.

He circumvented the inn by two blocks before walking down Jak’s street. His boy, Yusuf, was tending to the forge’s fire, getting it ready for the day. He looked up at Hyrestl’s approach, and the man pulled back his hood, revealing his face in the light of the torch nearby.

Just then, he discerned the sound of hooves clattering far off beyond the limits of the town. Yusuf wordlessly retreated into the house and called his father, who came out as the hooves were getting louder.

“Any word?” the innkeeper asked. Jak shook his head and shrugged.

“None of the scribes have returned with anything. Before Kassim and Adilah went on their trip, I talked with them at length. No one for half a day’s walk had seen him. There aren’t many places he can go or stay. He won’t be missing forever.”

The sound of hooves entered the town. Its noise echoed off houses and seemed to come from above them. Hyrestl nodded.

“I’ll be around. I’ll keep checking in three times a day, so don’t worry about finding me.”

Jak frowned as his friend stepped off the road. Suddenly, Hyrestl instinctively knew the rider would pass this way.

Jak looked down the dimly lit street to the source of the sound. The rider came around the corner, and instead of galloping past like a military messenger would, he pulled up short in front of the smithy. The man dismounted. His hair was in disarray from the ride, and he smelled of sweat. Jak stepped closer to the man.

“Jarrah! What news do you have?”

“Sir, I met up with Rylen but was unable to convince him to return. He was well on his way down the valley when I found him. He was going slowly, though, and limping. But I don’t doubt he’ll be in the capital or on his way to the Tarawa Pass by the time we catch up to him.”

Jak cursed under his breath. “Round up the others, and have them all meet here ready to go,” he told the scribe.

The man nodded and mounted his horse again.

As he set off, Jak nodded to Hyrestl. “The waiting is over. It’s our turn to shine now.” He placed a hand on the barman’s shoulder. “I’m not going to hold you to the original plan, though I’d like to have you along to help us out. It wouldn’t do for you to make an enemy of a prince, no matter how the king rewards you.”

Hyrestl pursed his lips. He needed to find Rylen. He couldn’t afford not to go. He shook his head.

“No, you said it yourself. We can’t worry about these things. We have a job to do, after all. I’m responsible to Ara-Era and, to that end, the king as well. I’d rather anger a prince and have the favor of two rulers.”

Jak grinned. “You might be better off than me when this ends.”

Hyrestl walked into the smithy with Jak and began the preparations to retrieve Rylen.

***

It was a quick trip for Hyrestl to walk back to the forest where he and Pahanna had set up camp. He didn’t find him there and felt a little guilty about leaving on such short notice. He drew his cloak tighter about him as a stiff breeze made him shiver. It was looking like it would be a cloudy day. The chill of morning wouldn’t be dispelled, especially if the wind shifted to come from the north.

He made out a note and tucked it in the small bag the boy had retrieved from his home. The man wasn’t well acquainted with his home life. He knew the family was poor: that was about it.

He shook the thoughts away and walked back to Jak’s. By this time, the town was waking up. Workers and tradesmen were going about their business. Again, Hyrestl was careful to avoid the patrols of guardsmen.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He made it back to the smithy without incident. Within an hour the royal guardsmen who had been living covertly in the town of Edge for nearly fifteen years were ready to depart. Jak was the captain and the first smithy to the town. He’d served in the king’s personal guard in the war against Ara-Era. The other nine guards had been hand-selected by the ruler, and each had a special set of skills that had helped Edge grow. One had been a herdsman before becoming a guard, another a tanner; there was also a surgeon, a tailor, a stonemason, a merchant, and the last three were farmers.

All of these men had brought their families with them. Their expertise was largely unknown in these far parts of the valleys. Trade quickly flourished, and people who had been displaced by the Ara-Eran invasion flocked around the solid core that the guardsmen created with their skills.

As for Kassim and Adilah, they cultivated Edge as a spiritual destination and soon attracted lower nobles seeking to please the king. With the nobles came some of their wealth into the temple’s treasury. The priest and priestess then distributed part of these gifts back to the public in the forms of gifts, furthering the prosperity of Edge’s people.

Now, each guard was prosperous beyond their wildest dreams. Even those who had been farmers were now in positions of leadership in the town. These were all men who had sought to be soldiers and had triumphed. They had all worked alongside the king himself in one way or another. For some, being sent to the high valleys was like a demotion.

Today was the beginning of their test of loyalty. If they succeeded in this task, they would gain the favor of the king, which even the princes had been seeking. It was written on their faces, a resolution to protect what they had gained and what they had yet to gain.

Each had a chain-mail shirt and breastplate along with leather bracers. It wasn’t much protection, but they were more in need of mobility. According to their exact plan, each was wearing the festival robes over their armor, which would make them difficult to distinguish in a crowd. Each also had a sword strapped to their thigh. The tanner was proficient with the bow, so he also carried that as well as a sword.

Jak gave a concise briefing. Their mission was simple: find Rylen and drag him back kicking if necessary. He’d been found making slow progress on his way to the central valleys. Any searching of the branching side valleys could be ignored.

If he was found to be locked up or in trouble, as was highly likely if he hadn’t kept a low profile, it was their duty to protect him at all costs. Jak finished and looked around at the men. It wasn’t a lot of information to go on, but they couldn’t afford to wait for anything more.

Jak made his goodbyes to his teary-eyed family, promising he would return soon, then he led the group out of the smithy. Together they walked to one of the stables the herdsman ran and mounted the horses waiting there.

They kept the horses at a fast trot in town so it would be harder to make out their faces. Once out of town, they slowed the horses to a walk.

They traveled like this until midday, taking regular breaks, when another horse came trotting from the opposite direction. As he passed, he glanced at their faces, and they at his.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the horseman cried. He was one of the temple scribes. He turned his horse around as they slowed.

Jak and Hyrestl directed their horses off the road a ways, and the man followed.

“What’s the news?” Jak demanded.

“Rylen’s been cornered in a cave by some villagers since yesterday. It’s a place down past the lake. I don’t know why, but he’s backtracked.”

“King have mercy!” Jak motioned the rest of the men over and explained the situation. In no time, they were on their way again with the scribe leading, this time at a quick trot.

Hyrestl’s mouth was set in a grim line. A part of him chastened himself for thinking it, but he wondered if he’d be free from his curse if someone else killed Rylen.

***

Rylen felt his way through the cave, keeping ahead of the villager search parties. Every once in while he would stop and listen. The moment he heard the slightest sounds of their following, he would continue on.

He didn’t use his candles unless he needed to. He had long since lost any sense of direction and he’d need the candles again eventually. For that matter, he’d also lost any sense of time as well. His only clue of night and day was when his pursuers no longer advanced farther into the cave.

The cave’s air was musty. He longed to be outside again, even if it was to see a cold and rainy day. A part of him wondered if he’d ever leave the cave again.

His stomach turned over painfully. He tried not to think of food, but he couldn’t help remembering the festival would be in full swing right about now. It didn’t help that the thought of a plain loaf of bread was appetizing, much less the delicacies the festival offered.

He stopped to rest and listened. There was no sound.

He took the opportunity to retrieve his waterskin. He tipped it back, and the last drops trickled into his throat.

He sat down on the uneven cave floor and searched through the dust for a flat spot. The sound of his hand brushing against the stone echoed off the walls. He found a place, and like the last time, he used what little tinder he dared to light a candle.

He waited another few long moments as he listened for his pursuers. He could only hear his own breathing. A part of him feared that he would hear them too late because of how loud each breath was.

He looked around for a place he might be able to hide himself. He could see the ceiling here, unlike some of the areas he’d been through. He was hoping to find some small hole above him that he could squeeze through and be out of sight. There wasn’t anything like that.

The light flickered, making his shadow dance on the wall, as if his breath had disturbed the flame. He frowned and held the candle farther away from him. But no, the tongue of fire leaned in the direction he’d just come from, like there was a slight breeze blowing.

Rylen looked up the passage and sniffed carefully. He couldn’t detect a change in the stale air. But it might be a little fresher, just maybe.

He felt his tired body asking him to lie down and sleep, but if there was a way out of here, it would be worth continuing forward. He brushed back his hair and instantly regretted it. It was greasy from his sweat and lack of a bath.

He continued up the passage with the candle held out in front of him. Whenever he came to an intersection, he would stop and wait to see what happened to the flame. Whichever tunnel the flame pointed away from, he took that one.

A sound tickled his ear. It was faint, but it gave him hope. The weariness receded from his limbs a little, and he walked a little quicker. Gradually, the sound grew louder. A tunnel split off to his right and angled downward, but he ignored it. He thought he could hear running water ahead of him.

The tunnel dipped down, then ended abruptly in a small hole a bit wider than him. Rylen swallowed and got down on his stomach and looked over the lip. He lowered the candle until it was the farthest he could reach down into the hole.

There, just barely visible in the dim light, he could see dry rock below.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He fetched his lantern from his pack and used the candle to light its wick. Then, he tied it back to his pack. Using a strap on the other end of his pack, he lowered it and the dangling lantern until both settled on the rock floor. Then, he followed down the hole himself.

He untied the lantern and put his pack back on. He had to crouch in this space, and as he held his lantern up, he couldn’t see any walls within sight. The floor was angled and the ceiling parallel.

He walked in the direction of the sound of water. He passed by some smoothed stone walls, likely the work of water long ago, and walked into a small cavern that was tall enough for him to stand up in.

There, running from one end to the other, was a burbling underground stream. It came up from beneath the wall and disappeared under the opposite wall. On either end, the water pooled a bit.

He approached carefully; the humidity hung in the air, and the rocks under his feet were slick. He looked closer at them and found that a sparse moss was growing.

Moss. Wouldn’t that mean there was light?

Rylen quickly inspected the edges of the space and stepped over the stream to the other side and did the same there. From everything he could see, this place was a dead end.

Puzzled and disappointed, he set down his lamp near the stream and licked his dry lips. He opened his waterskin and let it fill all the way. The water was cool to his touch. He brought the skin out of the water and gulped down two deep swallows before he gagged and spat it out. A shivering chill touched his mouth, all the way down his throat, and settled in the pit of his stomach. He frowned and capped the water container and put it aside. He hadn’t thought the water had been very cold when he’d touched it.

The chill started spreading through his chest, and he felt like he was growing stiff. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his chest to get warmer. His chest didn’t feel any different when his hands touched it, yet he felt like he should be freezing.

The icy feeling spread through his whole body until it reached his fingers and toes.

Ah, that must’ve been bad water. Now I’m poisoned, and I’m going to die.

Just as his eyelids grew heavy, something changed. The pit of his stomach tickled, and the strange sensation grew until he realized it was heat returning to him. It was strange: his hands told him he still had his body heat, but he certainly didn’t feel the same on the inside. The heat rose and suffused through his whole frame. He felt the pain of his bruises, the weariness of his muscles, and the soreness of his feet fade away. A calmness came over him, and the warmth lingered, lulling him into a deep slumber.