Gilles and Valentin led Marigold up the street towards the gate. Their detour, not yet taking an hour, saw Ortus resting in a midmorning position. The fog and mist of the early morning slowly burned away to grace the town with the gift of sight.
With that increased visibility, Valentin could see the massive wall separating the two realms. The gray stone walls, carved from the behemoth that sloped into it, appeared no more than a unique pattern in the mountainside. A surprisingly small portcullis sat in the center of the structure, restricting the amount that could pass through at any given time.
The barracks were extensions of the towering wall. Soldiers milled about aimlessly beneath the shaded immensity of the fortification that they were tasked to protect. Some napped in piles of straw, some played dice, and many more drank ale and slumped against the defensive stonework of the fort. Only a handful seemed to be acting with any decorum befitting the position. Innumerable cycles of peace had rotted the group of guards that likely viewed this post as a form of exile.
Two large blue tapestries embroidered with gold-winged sky spirits flanked the checkpoint to Cortel. The human-like faces of the spirits seemed to look down upon the people that had queued to cross the border. They silently cast their own judgment on the travelers that wished to gain purchase to the other side. Any that displeased them would have to meet their talons.
There appeared to be a commotion at the portcullis itself. The people crossing between the lands were accosting the guards on duty at the gate front. Valentin could not make out the nature of the shouts from where he stood but he could tell that his uncle had tensed next to him by the way he gripped onto the reins.
“Shit,” Gilles muttered under his breath. Valentin found himself lifted in the air. “Get on Marigold, Valentin, I have a sinking feeling that we’ve been overtaken.”
“Overtaken? How?” The boy was surprised that their days of effort could be overturned so quickly.
His uncle shushed him, “Our pursuers could ride their horses harder than we could. If they used the Rilleon seal then they could get fresh horses from any outpost. I knew that they were going to eventually try to seal the gates, but we should have had at least a day’s advantage before they were willing to spread out so far.”
“Did the seer you mentioned predict this as well?” Valentin wondered aloud.
“If they did, then our escape will have to become far more aggressive.”
Valentin slumped his shoulders. If he could have just managed his hunger for a while longer, then this would not have happened. His selfishness put the both of them at risk.
“I’m sorry,” Valentin said somberly.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Gilles replied immediately, trying to wave away his nephew’s guilt. “I am the one who is responsible for seeing us through safely. There is no purpose in thinking about those things now.”
The pair grew closer to the checkpoint and the arguments could be made out more clearly. A little over a couple dozen people were being held up by three guards. All three wore magnificent gear compared to the standard attire that the guards sported. Two of them were dressed in furs draped over polished chain mail hauberks.
The third was the true target of the crowd’s ire. A woman sporting a foul face regarded the dissidents with a soulless gaze. A blue cape embroidered with the golden spirits hung cleanly over an impenetrable fortress of lamellar plates. Her plumed helmet was pinned against her hip, allowing her close cut brown hair to be graced by Ortus’ light.
A man wearing washed linens seemed to be leading the dissident citizens and used his eloquence to craft his words in a way that the rest of the group couldn’t. He preached his frustration from the top of his parked wagon, using his elevation to assert his authority. A finger angrily pointed towards the guard’s leader, further riling up his constituents with his aggressive posturing.
“What is this farce, Cantan Perrette? We’ve passed you for cycles now to travel between towns. Why does this northern whelp keep trying to close the gate?”
The warrior sporting the sigil of Girro attempted to quell the mounting unrest but it was clear that both sides of the wall were experiencing a similar amount of rancor and unrest by the amount of shouting from the other Cortel side.
“Be patient for the time being,” Cantan Perrette commanded the group of people. “Sloane Bothair here represents the court of Rilleon and he claims that a fugitive who is attempting to escape may pass through. We are trying to come to an agreement.”
“What happens if you reach an impasse?” The well-dressed man challenged. “Are we to stand here the entire day while you bicker about politics and who has the right to what? We all have places to be.”
A cascade of agreement splashed out from his words.
“Sir Bothair,” Perrette continued in her conversation with the newcomer. “I have told you repeatedly that you lack the orders required to close the checkpoint. Both I and Cantan Ruhe of the Cortel garrison have agreed that we cannot lower the portcullis without the proper orders. We have never been permitted to disrupt the operation of this passage without an agreed upon statement from both High Tiarna d’Gauval and High Tiarna Cortel; something that you clearly do not possess.”
“But we have orders directly from the Storm Sovereign,” interjected Sloane Bothair.
“You do not have the correct orders,” Perrette rebuked, placing extra emphasis on the word ‘correct.’ “You come bearing just a seal from the court. Do not use your position to enforce tyranny on my gate. You will not bar any citizens from traveling between towns.”
“However, I am free to check passing individuals by invoking an emergency,” Bothair responded. “We are here to apprehend a fugitive, non-violently if possible. For that we need cooperation.” His last sentence seemed pointed directly at the dissatisfied crowd that had formed before him.
“Do you have a way to determine who this fugitive is? A description that you can provide to me that I can pass around to my troops?” Perrette inquired.
“Cantan Perrette, I have a guaranteed way to determine the fugitive. You see, they have kidnapped an extremely powerful child and we are looking to return them to our custody. Their parents, I imagine, have grown quite ill from worry,” Bothair explained. The warrior revealed a needle and a tiny crystal. “Anyone that wishes to cross with a child or young adult must allow me to conduct this test before they cross. Only the one that is powerful enough to cause this stone to react with just a drop of blood will be stopped.”
“Do you even know who the fugitive is?” A shout came from the crowd. The citizens were still dissatisfied with the ordeal and protested any form of inconvenience. “Perrette, this is outrageous.”
“Enough,” barked the Cantan and the crowd was subjugated into silence. “While I have some doubts, Sir Bothair’s methods are quick and simple enough that it will not cause lasting issues. Besides, you will not need to check a child twice, correct?”
Bothair nodded. “Indeed, my comrade here will take note of your name and you will no longer need to be held up by my search.”
The answer seemed to have quelled the last bit of open rebellion against the intrusion. However, resentment had yet to leave the faces of the townsfolk. The ones that had children with them lined up in front of the warrior while the others moved through unimpeded. Once the people passed through, the shouting from the Cortel side ceased and people began to cross through to the d’Gauval side.
Sloane Bothair reached for the hand of the first child and readied his needle. At the same time, Gilles mounted Marigold, settling behind Valentin. He pulled Valentin’s hood over his head, obstructing the boy’s view of what was happening in front of him. The horse moved forwards towards the checkpoint.
“I’m sorry, my sweet girl, but you are going to suffer.”
The horse lurched into a full sprint. Valentin quickly reached for thrown to not be suddenly thrown off the beast. The people waiting in line jumped out of the way and guards moved into action much too late. Valentin briefly made eye contact with the bewildered Bothair who kneeled in front of a child.
“That’s the fugitive!” Sloane Bothair shouted to his comrade as he scrambled to his feet.
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The pair burst through to the Cortel side of the wall before any orders could be relayed to stop them. Unsuspecting people leapt out of the way of the charging horse. Guards called for the travelers to stop but the man driving the horse forwards had no intention of obeying. Marigold plowed through any unfortunate townsfolk that hadn’t moved fast enough. Her flat teeth gnashed wildly at any that lingered in her path for too long. Any that had fallen in her way were stomped on indiscriminately. The fleshy cushion may have been of some relief to the animal compared to the stone.
The screams of pain that echoed from those that had been hit was enough to almost fully part the rest of the crowd that had been waiting to pass through to d’Gauval. However, the path through was still not wide enough for Marigold to go at full speed. Gilles kicked out his feet at those that were not moving quickly enough. A man that angrily reached for the horse received an empowered stomp to the face from its rider. A limp corpse collapsed to the ground, his neck forced at an unnatural angle.
By the time they had successfully gotten through the crowd, the pair of pursuers had appeared on horseback. They benefited from Gilles’ forceful entry and passed through relatively unimpeded.
The three horses dashed through the town’s singular road at speed, forcing everyone to leap for cover or to have their bones broken. Pots shattered. People tumbled to the ground. Their screams of frustration and pain assailed the riders, chasing them as they left the town’s outskirts.
Marigold’s efforts, while valiant, were not enough to keep them safe. The gap had not closed between Marigold and the pursuers. Valentin constantly watched them over his shoulder. The fogbank that had persisted throughout the morning had almost fully burnt off, leaving only small clumps of condensation to float aimlessly. Their pursuers would disappear inside the sparse clouds that the chase galloped through before appearing on the other side.
They descended rapidly down the mountain path. Fog still hung heavily inside the forest that now surrounded the three riders, turning them all into shadows. Valentin could see their spectral silhouettes and hear the pounding of their hooves chasing them ferociously.
The road forked and Marigold was led on the right fork that went back uphill. Both pursuers followed, their looming figures still near at hand.
A javelin shot past Valentin’s head and into the ether in front of them. It clattered against the rocks in front of them and was crushed under hoof. He could hear his uncle curse under his breath while shouts echoed from the fog.
Valentin braced for the potential of another shot, but it never came. They had climbed high enough to be once again above the fogbank. As they moved inland, the cover had already burnt away and there would be no further opportunities to hide. Valentin could see a wide expanse of trees of the Jerv Forests that seemed to endlessly stretch out into the faraway horizon.
The path that rounded the mountain had grown narrower and there was no direction of escape but forwards. Back down the steep cliffside they ran. Along the left side of the path, Valentin could only see green at the bottom of a sheer drop.
Oddly enough, the linear nature that the chase had taken had calmed down the situation. Both the pursuers and the pursued seemed to be focusing more on the condition of their horses than on one another. Valentin could hear Gilles' pained voice urge the horse on.
The two chasing warriors appeared to be at odds with each other. Valentin wasn’t sure who threw the javelin, but they had not prepared another. This would have been an opportune time to do so as there was nowhere to evade and nowhere to take cover. However, the two warriors held steadfastly behind the escaping pair. He wondered if they intended to take him and his uncle alive. Was there a misunderstanding?
The path descended sharply downwards into the forests below. It terminated at a small village at the base of the mountain. Villagers watched with detached confusion as the chase scorched through their village. Hovels ended and a large lake began. Thunderous hooves passed people washing their clothes on the lakeshore and small children wading through the shallows.
Gilles kept Marigold along the soft ground of the lakeshore to increase the horse’s speed and keep her away from any of the treacherous terrain of the undergrowth. The lakeshore rounded to the north and the chase proceeded towards Gilles’ destination.
Once the horses had cleared the villagers and the terrain opened up to a short clearing, one of the mounted warriors threw another javelin. The projectile landed to the left of Marigold and stuck into the ground. The next was dangerously close to piercing the horse. More shouting between the two and the short barrage stopped.
Shortly after, the clearing ended and the chase entered a directionless forest. Deeper and deeper into the underbrush the riders went. Branches and roots reached out from above and below to obstruct the passage of all.
The chase slowed down significantly as the trio attempted to navigate the uneven precarious ground. Gilles weaved Marigold between the trees to ensure that there were always something that covered them from another brief volley of javelins.
“Stop now and surrender peacefully!” The voice Valentin recognized as Sloane Bothair attempted to diplomatically end the chase.
“You can’t fool me about your intentions with the boy!” Gilles called back to his pursuers. “What heartless cowards you are to hunt a child!”
As there was nothing but silence in response, negotiations died as soon as they began; leaving the pursuit to proceed silently.
The half speed chase dragged further into the forests. Morning rains in the region had yet to evaporate from the mulch of the undergrowth under the high cover of the trees. The horses stomped through the muck and slowed considerably more.
Marigold was in poor health. Her breathing was ragged and her steps unwilling. She still moved faster than they could on foot but it was clear that no amount of coaxing and pleading and affection provided by Gilles would help the horse continue much further. The high speed chase over the stone bearing the weight of two had severely damaged her hooves. The trot turned to a walk which turned to a limp.
The two pursuing horsemen circled in on the struggling animal. Gilles, recognizing the running could no longer continue, pulled the reins.
Marigold was led towards the trunk of a tree before being given permission to stop. The horse wheezed and drooled. Gilles dismounted and reached for his sword hilt. He positioned himself between the rump of the horse and the encroaching warriors.
“You will have to kill me before you can take him.” He drew his blade and brandished it in front of him. He lowered his stance and slowed his breathing.
The two warriors hopped off their exhausted mounts and drew their longswords. Both approached at the same measured, deliberate speed from opposite angles to try to prevent Gilles from being able to respond to both at once. They held their blades and prepared their strike.
The attackers waited. They watched Gilles' eyes dart back and forth, his body constantly tensed to react to any strike. They inched forward, the ground under their feet squishing.
There was no rush, their blades possessed greater reach. Their numbers made it difficult for them to both be felled. Gilles would be out of range for a strike with his loaned sword from the guardsman, but the two longswords were poised for any strike. Their faces were emotionless, guarding their intentions and timing.
Gilles turned abruptly and slapped the horse. With the last vestiges of strength it had, Marigold jolted forwards. Valentin flung himself towards the saddle, nearly thrown from the back. Bothair leapt forwards towards Valentin, his empowered footsteps sparking and failing to ignite the wet leaves below. His arm jolted out and his fingers reached for the boy’s cloak to tear him off the horse.
With a flash of color, Valentin saw Gilles strike at Bothair. He quickly shifted to block Gilles’ attack, forfeiting his opportunity to grab his true target.
Valentin tightly gripped onto the horse with his eyes sealed shut, the sounds of metal clanging on metal ringing out. The desperate fight fell into silence as he quickly bounded further into the forests.
Marigold sprinted with the reckless abandon of an animal fleeing a predator. She cared little for any of the obstacles in front of her and Valentin was forced to brave the tree branches that reached down towards him. Their bony wooden fingers clawed at his face and he felt droplets of blood trickle from the thin gashes on his exposed skin. He winced from the pain but held on steadfastly. He did not look in front or behind him. The boy devoted all of his focus and all of his energy to remaining on the horse at all cost.
This single minded dedication to his goal helped to purge any lingering worries of his uncle outside of his head. Instead, all that remained was the sound of hooves and the struggling breath of the beast below.
And suddenly, that all gave way.
Marigold’s legs gave out, causing the horse to careen into the dirt. Valentin was thrown from the horse and tumbled forwards before skidding to a stop. He stood on uneven footing, his mind in a daze. Marigold collapsed on her side before him, her breaths shuddering and pained.
He ran over to the horse and looked into her distressed eyes, without understanding of what had occurred. She tried to desperately kick herself forwards before returning limp. She lifted her head weakly and whinnied in panic, incapable of accepting her condition. Her head collapsed down into the mud. Blood trickled from countless cuts along her sides.
Tears streamed down Valentin’s face as he looked at the animal that gave everything to get him away; his uncle’s favorite horse that he did not manage to keep alive for even a day. It did not matter if she did not know that was her purpose, she had done so resolutely and without complaint. The boy brushed his hand along her neck and whispered to her before the horse fell into a calm silence, foam bubbled out of the corners of her mouth. A faint breathing still persisted.
Valentin searched the area for the bags of rations. As much as he wished to fall to his knees and bemoan his situation, he could not afford waste sacrifices to starve. He quickly found the bag of steaming pies not far from him, but the rest had scattered from a ripped sack. He frantically searched the area but could find only a portion of his provisions as well as a fish and a slightly muddy loaf of bread that lied on the damp ground. The remaining bags were ripped or crushed in the tumble, lost forever.
The longer he spent scouring the ground for food, the more dread collected within his heart. His breath was shallow and his chest pounding with worry. Each heartbeat brought them closer to him. Each breath not spent fleeing was wasted.
Knowing that he had no more time to spend in search of additional supplies, the boy ran off in the direction that Marigold had been heading, leaving the last piece of his home behind. He could not bear to look behind at the horse but he knew that she looked at him with scared, pleading eyes that demanded to know why she was being left behind. Valentin hoped that she did not feel pain in those final moments.
A small warmth that radiated from the bag turned his attention towards the pies that he forced Gilles to stop for. A wave of hunger nearly dropped him to his knees. He rummaged around and pulled out one of the pies. It was slightly crushed in the tumble, filling oozing out. He took a large bite from it before slipping it back into the bag and making a bitter face.
It tasted terrible.