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Tale of the last Herald
Chapter 7: Flight

Chapter 7: Flight

"Speak, woman. Before I lose my patience," the man snapped.

Ben scrambled to his feet and stood behind Ann.

"You forget your place, Councilor. It is my patience that you are testing." The Healer’s tone radiated authority. The kind that promised consequences if not obeyed. "Let us be on our way, and I’ll forgive the transgression."

The Councilor bristled. He was obviously unused to being on the receiving end of such reprimands. He paused to consider the pair for a beat, then relaxed his stance and lazily rested the ivory weapon on his shoulder. Water droplets on the pauldrons of his armor hissed at the contact. He looked away toward the ongoing battle, then casually remarked.

"You bore me. Out of my sight before you become worth the trouble."

Ann silently turned and locked arms with Ben, leading him away from the scene. He thought he glimpsed a light fading deep within the healers’ eyes. Their pace was slow at first; then, she forced the young man into a spirited jog once they reached the edge of the camp and were out of sight.

They encountered more undead during their flight. They were horrifying creatures in the skin of normal people. During the initial attack, Ben hadn’t been able to observe the creatures in detail. Seeing more of them as they made their way through the woods, he noticed that, though many of them looked like decayed corpses, many more were fresh and indistinguishable from living human beings.

They encountered less and less walking dead, the further they got from camp. He wondered what the fate of the soldiers was. He hoped Jor made it out safely. Ben was still reeling from all the emotions he felt. Shame, terror, powerlessness, disgust.

How am I supposed to defend myself against someone like that? And Ann…

He considered the short woman in front of him, whose arm was linked with his in an iron grip, pulling him helplessly through the forest in a twisting path.

She’s more than she seems to be… Shit. I mean, she saved me again but what if I’m trading one monster for another?

His impression of the ditzy, clingy Healer had changed radically since the exchange with the councilor earlier. Her presence changed from warm and caring, giving the feeling of home- a safe place, to one of frigid, oppressive authority. His headache had yet to abate, but he realized that, since waking up in the med bay, he had become sensitive to the presences or auras of people. His memories were all but gone, but he was sure that this was a recent development as the feeling felt foreign and he wasn’t able to rationalize it the same way one would with other instinctual abilities.

Ann led him tirelessly through the woods at a pace that had at some point slowed down to a determined walk. The trees seemed to have no end, and the cold light from cracks in the canopy suggested that it was midafternoon. Ben was focused on putting one foot in front of the other and didn’t have the will for anything else. Eventually, fatigue set in, and his already low energy reserves failed him. His body gave in, causing him to stumble and lose his footing. His protector’s iron grip stopped him from face-planting into the loamy forest floor. Her concerned eyes met his as he spoke through deep breaths.

"I just. Need a. Need a moment," he got out between coughs. "I can’t-"

Ann knelt next to him and put a hand on his gaunt cheek.

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"Just a bit longer, my sweet. We’re almost out of the blight woods, then we can rest."

She detached a small waterskin from her belt and handed it to Ben. He took a big swig and handed it back to the healer, who drank a small sip before placing it on her hip. She scanned the area around them, including the high branches of the looming trees and the pale, uncaring sky. After she determined that there were no immediate threats, she turned to Ben.

"We only have a few more hours to go, and I know of a place where we can rest. Until then, I ask that you find it within yourself to continue. Just a little more." Her voice was comforting and reassuring.

Ben wondered why she was so adamant about keeping him alive. He struggled to believe that she really thought of him as a figure from a vision.

What’s the con?

Chiding himself, he pushed the venomous idea to the back of his mind.

Nevertheless, her words and a throat no longer dry reinvigorated Ben. She helped him up after a moment to catch their breath, and they continued at a slow gait through the dreary forest. Their pace had slowed down significantly, and by late afternoon, the woods seemed to be changing with every labored step. The trees and evergreen pines appeared more vibrant. The sounds of birds and other forest critters caressed Ben’s ears. He hadn’t realized the extent of it before, but the blight woods were eerily silent as if life itself wasn’t welcome there.

The pair came to a clearing occupied by a rocky outcrop that appeared to have a shallow, cave-like depression. There were remnants of a campfire, almost completely washed away by rain a long time ago. Ann led him to the cave and set him down with his back against the cool stone wall. The healer was expended. Her face was glistening, and her tunic was drenched with sweat. It clung to her shapely body. She handed Ben the waterskin that was near empty.

"I passed this campsite on the way to the fringe a few months ago. I recall uncovering a modest supply stash that I believe to have been left behind by travelers or adventurers. There should be enough to keep us fed for the evening. Don’t go anywhere, darling."

Her exhausted eyes winked at Ben as she turned to leave. He saw the woman walk deliberately to a tree stump about fifteen paces away from the cave. The healer then appeared to be retracing steps she had taken in the past.

It all seemed too convenient to him. The escape. The direct path to this campsite, which just so happened to have a hidden cache of supplies. Things didn’t add up, he thought. Logically, he had no reason to distrust her. She had saved his life twice so far, and she had nurtured him back to a semblance of health. He should be grateful. He hated that these poisonous thoughts crept in and around his periphery.

He observed the woman pacing up and down the clearing. Stopping every so often to stomp the ground before retracing her steps once more. Her neat blonde braids had become loose and fluffy during their flight. Stray hairs stuck to her glistening brow, and her long, ruffled dress was stained by mud and forest debris. Her determination and her warm personality had Ben admitting that she was quite attractive.

His eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, and he realized that he was still suffering from the ordeal at the beach. It felt like it had been ages, but he remembered that he had only woken up the previous day. His body felt weak, and his scrawny, tanned arms had little to no strength. He drank a sip of water. Taking care to leave some for Ann when she returned. He closed his eyes.

Just for a minute…

He dreamt of falling toward the same grey sky. Once his form passed through dark, sinister clouds, he saw the midnight ground approaching at a rapid pace. His breaths grew shorter, and, even though he knew it was a dream, instinctively, he braced himself for impact

Ben opened his eyes to find the cave and surrounding area bathed in darkness. He lifted his hand to his face and was taken aback by the muscular, healthy forearm he made out in the dim light. The skin tone seemed to be his, albeit less tanned, but his nails were clean, and after flexing his fingers, his grip felt strong.

He was interrupted from his musing as a thick fog began to lazily roll along the forest floor towards him. It moved like an eerie, predatory tide. A pair of malicious, crimson eyes shone in the distance from where he and Ann had come from. The terrible orbs approached at a slow, haunting pace.

Ben’s legs were lead. He tried to scramble away from the promise of inevitable death, but the more he struggled, the heavier and more lethargic he became. He clenched his teeth and took short panicked breaths, steeling himself. He doubted he could survive whatever it was that had set its eyes on him.

He resigned himself to making it work for its food.