The journey over the hills was torturous, with nothing but stained brown hills heaped like dungpiles for miles around. The narrow tracks they followed were treacherous, with loose stones underfoot or, at times, less than a yard wide over a drop of hundreds of feet. Piled-up snow drifts, washed-out paths, and landslips forced them to backtrack on trails that twisted maddeningly between and over the hills, so that a day's march only gained them a third of the distance as the crow flies.
All of this took time, time for the ley line to ooze in through the cracks in the barrier. Riot's body creaked with every step, and he wiggled his finger in his ear in a bid to relieve the pressure that made the world sound muffled.
A shriek bounced off of the slopes around them, and one of Moran’s white and green-uniformed toy soldiers flailed his arms like a windmill in a storm, teetering on the edge of the cliff before pitching down, his wail of terror ending in a fleshy thump.
“Watch your step, stone-eye.”
Before Riot could react, Loic was on him. He grabbed Riot around the neck, dragged him toward the edge of the drop, and held him out into the empty air, his heels scrabbling on the lip of the pathway.
“Let him go, Loic.” Quinn was behind to Loic, the blade of her short sword pressed against the northman's spine.
The leybound nearby froze, watching wide-eyed.
Stolen story; please report.
“He killed Price; he has to pay for that,” Loic hissed.
“Price is alive, you stupid bastard; the wikkan said they never found his body,” Riot croaked, forcing the words out through his restricted airways.
Loic looked to Quinn, who nodded confirmation, and he pulled Riot back from the edge and dropped him on the narrow path where he lay gasping.
There was a commotion in the line, and the men ahead of them squeezed against the rock wall as Moran pushed his way through and took in the scene. “Loic, would you be so kind as to join me at the front? My horse is skittish, and you have a way with the beast,” he said.
“Yessir,” Loic replied with a smart salute.
“Sergeant Riot, we will make camp soon, and you can enjoy all of the rest you need, but until then, I would appreciate a good example to the men. You don’t see any of them flagging, do you?”
Moran led Loic back to the head of the file, and everyone moved on slowly as Riot flopped over onto the pathway, panting, and let the rock he held tumble out of his hand. “You could have told him Price was still alive at any time,” Riot said.
“I don't work for you. I told you what you needed to do to avoid this.” Quinn nudged the rock with her foot. “If you had hit him, you would have both fallen.”
“That was the idea.” Gods his body was aching. This must be how his grandfather felt when the old man couldn’t get up the stairs any more.
“Ask Moran for help. It will help gain the respect of the leybound.”
“I don’t need their respect.”
“You think you have a boot on your head holding you down, and so you do the same to them. Why can’t you see that there is no boot and you hold yourself down?”
Quinn continued down the pathway, and Riot groaned and rolled over, hauling himself up.