Part Two
Sunflower
“No!” Thomas yelled, knowing that his friend was seconds away from death. But there was nothing that he could do, not when he was so far away, not when he didn’t have any weapons on him, not when he hadn’t the faintest clue on how to help. But, out of nowhere, a man appeared, stepping forward to stand between Hunter and the soldier, stabbing a knife into the arm of the soldier trying to kill Hunter. The soldier cried out, dropping his knife and grabbing at his hurt arm.
“Are you alright?” the man asked, holding his knife with a tight hand and staring at the soldier in front of them. Not knowing if the stranger was talking to him or Hunter, Thomas stayed silent. The man turned around, his worried face latching onto Hunter, revealing that he had been talking to his friend. “Are you okay?”
Hunter nodded. “I’m fine,” he reassured, though his pale face spoke of the opposite.
“And you?” The man’s gray eyes locked on Thomas’ eyes, the intensity of his look startling the boy. With adrenaline still pumping through him, Thomas could only nod, feeling unable to speak. With his answer, the man sagged in relief, closing his eyes. Feeling that the threat had passed, Thomas sighed, looking away from both Hunter and the man and at the wound in his shoulder. He had taken the arrow out, though that had hurt immensely, feeling as if it would be an impediment for him. Now, looking at the blood running down from the wound, he wondered if that had been the smartest move on his part. Thomas frowned, try--
“Michael!” Hunter screamed out suddenly. Thomas quickly looked up, just in time to watch the soldier plunge his knife into the stomach of Hunter’s savoir--Michael, if Hunter’s yell was anything to go off on, which Thomas knew was the name of Hunter’s mentor. Michael’s gasp of pain coincided with Thomas’ gasp of surprise and shock, and he fell to the ground with a hard thud. Thomas sprang up, running to the man’s side as fast as he could, not paying attention as Hunter launched himself at the soldier, taking care of the person that had stabbed his mentor.
Michael’s hands were over his wound, but that did little to prevent Thomas from noticing the blood pouring out of it, pooling quickly in a puddle beneath him. The sight and irony smell of the blood made Thomas want to vomit, but he swallowed hard, trying to control his quickening breath and rapid heartbeat. Though he knew next to nothing about wounds nor how to treat them, he knew that Michael’s injury was life-threatening, meaning that he and Hunter needed to find help--and fast.
“Oh my God,” a voice breathed out. Wrenching his gaze away from Michael’s stomach, Thomas looked up to find Hunter crouched next to him, his face slack and pale. His eyes were fixated on the blood pouring from Michael’s wound and he seemed to not know what to do next, making Thomas even more fearful.
“Hunter,” Michael gasped. Hearing how weak his voice was, Thomas realized just how close to death the man laying in front of him was. “Listen to me.”
For the first time since crouching down on the ground, Hunter looked away from Michael’s stomach, instead staring at his mentor. “How are you here?”
“When you left, I knew exactly where you were going.” Michael closed his eyes, pausing before continuing to speak. “Liam went on ahead towards Eskil, but I knew I had to follow you here.”
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying his hardest to prevent tears from slipping down his face. “I shouldn’t have left.”
Thomas frowned, trying to figure out why Hunter would feel the need to apologize. As far as he knew, Michael had known that his apprentice was heading for Ridgecrest to tell Thomas about his parents. Then, Thomas realized that Hunter had never said anything about Michael, only that he didn’t want Thomas to know about Matheson. If that was true, it was possible that Michael had told Hunter to not say a word to Thomas.
Michael opened his eyes, staring intently at his apprentice. “You have nothing to apologize for. You were right; Thomas deserves to know who his family is. Forgive me instead for my inability to stand up for the right things. I’ve stayed silent for far too long.” Then, Michael looked over at Thomas, taking him in for the first time. “You look exactly like your father.”
Thomas started, realizing that Michael’s sentence was the first time he had ever heard any description of his father. “I do?”
Michael nodded. “You do.” He paused before adding, “It’s nice to finally meet you again, Thomas.”
Thomas felt his forehead crease in confusion. “Again?” He was sure he had never met Hunter’s mentor before.
Michael nodded once. “I was close with your mother when you were a toddler. The la--”
“Wait, you know my mom?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunter look away quickly, but he still managed to catch a guilty expression on his friend’s face. Before he could ask what was wrong, Michael answered his question, bringing his focus back on understanding more about his family.
“Yes, I know her. Her name is Kathleen Fields. She lives in Northfield, with her husband, Henry, and her son, Petrus.” Thomas blinked away the tears coming to his eyes. Not only was his father alive, but his mother was as well. And he knew her name, knew where she lived. Beyond that, he had discovered that he had a half-brother named Petrus and a step-father named Henry. Both of their names were added to his list of family members, a list that was quickly filling up with names. “She runs a bakery.”
Thomas’ eyes widened with Michael’s last sentence. It explained why the smell of fresh-baked bread always coincided with his image of his mother. “A bakery?”
“Yes. It’s been in the Hayes family for three generations now. It’s called the Snow Goose Bakery.”
As fast as he could, Thomas pulled out his medallion from under his shirt and bandana, holding up the bird on it for Michael to see. “A snow goose like this?”
Michael stared at the medallion, appearing to be shocked at its appearance. “Exactly like that,” he breathed out. “The snow goose is your family’s crest. Kathy gave that to you, when you were three. In fact, it was right before I took you here.”
“You were the one who brought me here?”
Michael nodded. “Your mother begged me to.”
Thomas frowned, confused as to the reasons behind his mother’s plea for him to be raised in an orphanage, away from her. “Why?”
Michael shook his head, making Thomas’ excitement over learning about his family evaporate. “Like I said, I can’t explain everything. Your mother should be the one to discuss this with you, not me.” Michael looked away. “I’m sorry, Thomas, for not telling you sooner. You should’ve known about Kathleen long ago.” He looked at Hunter. “You made me realize that, Hunter. You made me realize that Thomas should meet Kathleen. But not Matheson.” Michael looked back at Thomas, his eyes looking him in the eye. “Under no circumstances are you to meet your father. Your father is a bad man, Thomas, and I have seen the dark side of him. Stay away from him, for your own good.” Thomas’ eyes widened, shocked at what Michael was telling him. Before he could ask the man why he thought so negatively about his father, Michael turned to Hunter. “And don’t you dare take him.”
Hunter flushed. “Mich--”
“Promise me.”
Thomas held his breath, staring at his friend to see what he would say. Michael was begging Hunter to not let Thomas meet his father on his deathbed. It would be cruel for him to refuse that--especially considering how close Michael was to dying--but Thomas still urged him to do so. He had always wanted to meet his parents--both of his parents--regardless of what they were like. He had run away from the Enlistment Act, had even fought against two Aspayan soldiers, to do so. He couldn’t turn away now, not when he was in this far. He had to see this through to the end, had to meet Matheson--and Kathleen, now that he knew about her. But he needed Hunter. He couldn’t do it without his friend’s knowledge, without his help.
But Hunter couldn’t travel with him if he promised to fulfill Michael’s last wish on this Earth. He couldn’t help Thomas get to Tascela if he gave into Michael’s last words.
Hunter looked to be just as torn as Thomas was about what he should do and, watching Hunter struggle to decide whether or not to promise Michael to not take him to his father, Thomas looked away, looking down at Michael.
Only to find that Michael’s eyes were staring up at nothing, their glassy appearance scaring Thomas to death. His chest wasn’t moving up nor down, making Thomas realize that he had stopped breathing. Hunter reached a hand out, placing it on top of Michael’s chest, right above his heart. Seeing his face pale and watching as his friend blinked away tears, Thomas asked a question he was loath to utter.
“Is he dead?”
Hunter simply nodded, bringing his hand back into his lap. He stared at Michael’s body, at the body of his mentor, at the body of the man who Thomas knew had meant the world to him. “Adios,” he whispered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Thomas blinked in surprise at the Malin word, not knowing that his friend knew the old language of Malin, from back before the Empire had taken over. Before Thomas could ask him about it, a voice rang out.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“There!” Thomas looked up to find a large group of soldiers running towards them. In front of the charge was the first soldier that Hunter had dealt with, the one that Hunter had stabbed in the leg. Both Hunter and Thomas scrambled up, the former of whom with a knife held tightly in his left hand. Spotting his knife on the ground, he picked it up, trying to copy Hunter’s hold on it. Thomas looked over at his friend’s face, trying to figure out what he was planning, trying to figure out how Hunter planned on evading the group of ten soldiers running straight at them.
Hunter’s face was etched in anger and Thomas realized that the only thing flooding through his friend’s mind was anger for Michael’s death and a desire to avenge his mentor. Neither of those things would help them get out of this alive and Thomas knew that it was up to him to ensure their survival.
“We have to go!” he shouted. He sheathed his knife then began to pull at Hunter’s arm. Hunter tried to wrench himself out of his hold, but he quickly stopped, perhaps coming to the realization that it was better for him to live, to not give into his anger and his thirst for revenge. He put away his knife then allowed Thomas to drag him down the street, running away from the soldiers on their heels.
“Over here!” another voice called out. Looking in the direction of the unknown caller, Thomas found Braya standing at the mouth of an alleyway. Her hood was still on and she was gesturing frantically for them to follow her, glancing fearfully back at the soldiers chasing them. “Follow me!”
Hunter changed directions, running towards the alley. Not hesitating even in the slightest, Thomas followed him, staying close behind. He glanced back every few seconds, knowing that the soldiers were sure to have followed them down the alley. Eventually, they stopped at a fork, two different paths in front of them. At the fork stood three horses: Angelina, Hunter’s horse, and a light gray horse with white spots dusting its coat.
“I found them running away from the fight,” Braya explained, sounding out of breath after their sprint. “I knew two of them were yours. I don't know about the gray horse, but she followed me here, so I figured you might know her.”
“I do,” Hunter said, making Thomas blink in confusion. “Her name’s Adelina and she belongs to my mentor.” Then, his voice sounding neutral and devoid of any emotion, he added, “You can use her if you want to come with us.”
Braya whipped her head to look over at Hunter. Thomas did as well, surprised that his friend was offering for the girl to join them. “I can’t come with you!”
“Why not?’ Hunter asked.
Braya shifted her weight, appearing to not have the words to explain herself properly. “I-I--”
“They went into the alley!” someone shouted from behind them. Thomas looked over in the direction, fear flooding through him as he realized that the soldiers were closing in on them.
“They’re right behind us!” he shouted, looking back over at Hunter.
His friend stayed motionless, staring at Braya. “If you stay, the soldiers will catch you. Considering the fact that you helped us escape, they’re going to arrest you for helping us.” Still, the girl hesitated, looking between Hunter and the direction that they had come from. “Braya, please.”
Braya sighed. “Fine. I’ll travel with you.” Quickly, she mounted Adelina, moving in a way that led Thomas to believe that she had ridden before. Hunter got on his horse then looked expectantly at Thomas.
Thomas didn’t move, though, staring at Angelina as he remembered his last ride on her just minutes ago, about how he had fallen off.
“Are you seriously contemplating staying here?” Hunter asked. “After they just ki--”
He quickly broke off, but Thomas could easily finish his question.
After they just killed Michael?
With that reminder, Thomas mounted the golden horse, struggling to get on without help. Once he was on, Hunter went to the right, heading towards the road that Thomas knew would take them to the Tascelan border in the southwest. Braya followed and, once he figured out how to get Angelina moving in that direction, Thomas did as well. He held as tight as he could to his reins, trying to prevent himself from falling again.
“Relax,” Hunter told him. “You’re making her nervous.” Looking down, Thomas found that his friend was right. Appearing to have felt the fear that was coursing through him, Angelina had become nervous, an emotion that was apparent in her pinned ears and her uncertain steps.
“Sorry, Angelina.” Thomas loosened his grip on the reins, but he found himself unable to do much more than that.
“We’re almost to them!” a soldier from behind them called out. Thomas’ breathing picked up at the reminder of who they were running away from and why, making it next to impossible for him to stay relaxed.
“We should hurry,” Braya said, looking behind them and towards the direction of the soldiers. Her voice sounded wavery, making Thomas realize that she was just as scared of the soldiers as he was.
“I agree,” Hunter said. He sounded confident, making Thomas believe that he wasn’t nervous, but Thomas knew that wasn’t true, not when his voice sounded higher-pitched than normal. Appearing to have done so without any prompting--though Thomas knew that was impossible--Hunter’s horse increased his speed. Braya’s horse followed suit and, once Thomas figured out that by pushing his heels into Angelina’s sides, he could do the same, his horse did the same.
“You need to loosen up,” Hunter reminded Thomas. “Don’t fight Angelina’s movement; move with her.”
Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of air in an attempt to calm down. Surprisingly, he was able to relax and he found that by loosening up and moving with his horse’s movement, he was able to keep his balance more. He opened his eyes, glancing over at Hunter. “Like that?”
Hunter nodded. “Exactly like that.” He paused before explaining, “A horse can sense your tenseness, which causes them to freak out. And a freaked-out horse is not something we want.”
Thomas inhaled sharply, not needing to ask his friend why that was. He could vividly remember Angelina running off, causing him to roll to the ground. “Agreed.”
They continued down the alley in silence, eventually returning to the main road of town. Without asking Thomas about where Tascela was, Hunter turned to the left, heading directly to the southwest.
“How’s your arm?” Braya asked Thomas suddenly.
Blinking in surprise, Thomas looked at his injury. In the wake of receiving more information about his family, Michael’s death, and the subsequent haste to escape from the soldiers, he had forgotten all about it. “It’s alright, I suppose. I sorta forgot about it.”
“Where’s the bolt?” Hunter asked.
Thomas tilted his head to the side. “The what?”
Hunter sighed. “The crossbow bolt. The thing that hit you.”
“Oh.” He wondered briefly what the difference between an arrow and a bolt was, but he pushed away his confusion, instead deciding to answer Hunter’s question. “I took it out.”
“You idiot,” Hunter said, though without any true heat to his words. “How did you stop the bleeding?”
Thomas glanced at his left shoulder, discovering that there was still blood coming out of it. It reminded him of Michael’s wound, about how the blood had poured out of it and pooled beneath him. Shaking his head to clear the unwanted images playing behind his eyes, he focused on answering Hunter’s question.
“I didn’t. It’s still bleeding.”
Braya leaned over closer to Thomas, seemingly in order to look at his injury. “It’s not too deep,” she decided, sitting back in her saddle normally. “I can take care of it once we stop.” She glanced over at Hunter. “That is, if we stop soon.”
“As soon as we get rid of those soldiers, we’re stopping,” Hunter reassured.
“And how do we do that?” Thomas asked.
He watched Hunter frown, appearing to think of what to do. After a few seconds, his expression cleared and he nodded his head in the direction of the pine forest beside the town. “We can hide in there. The leaves will hide us from sight and it’s in the direction of Tascela.”
Braya looked up sharply at him. “Tascela? I thought you said you were heading towards the south.”
Hunter blinked, glancing over at the girl. Thomas was surprised that she paid that much attention to what they had said earlier. “In my defense,” Hunter said, “Tascela is to the south.”
Braya raised an eyebrow, seemingly not convinced of his words. “I think it’s more to the west than the south. I suppose your reason for traveling isn’t true, either?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I’m no--”
“We’re on the way to meet my father,” Thomas cut in. Hunter looked over at Thomas, appearing to be upset that he had revealed that to the girl. Suddenly, he realized that maybe Hunter was changing his mind about their reason for traveling upon Michael’s plea for him to promise that he wouldn’t take Thomas to Matheson. “And my mother,” he quickly added, figuring that Hunter wouldn’t have any issue with that goal and also discovering that he wanted to meet Kathleen now that he knew about her. He glanced at Hunter, trying to judge his facial expression. For the second time that day, he saw a flash of guilt pass over Hunter’s features. But his friend quickly looked away and, when he looked back at Thomas, it was gone, making him wonder if he had even seen it in the first place. “Where are you going?” he asked Braya, focusing on her instead of his and Hunter’s journey.
“I’m heading to Tascela,” she answered.
Thomas blinked, surprised to hear that she was heading in the same direction. “Really?” When she nodded, he asked, “Why?”
Braya shifted in her saddle, looking away from Thomas and at the scenery around them. They had left the town behind, instead riding through the forest Hunter was wanting to stop in. The cobblestone path had given way to simple dirt, muffling the sounds of their horses’ hoofbeats. Pine needles were on the ground everywhere and Thomas could hear the chittering of the squirrels around them and the chirping sounds of birds. The dense forest hid much of the sunlight, making it seem later than it actually was.
“Is this a good spot to stop?” Braya asked, changing the subject.
Hunter considered her question, looking around them for a couple of seconds. Then, he pointed over to where a pine tree had fallen, leaving a small clear area of land perfect for the three of them. “That’s good.” He dismounted and both Braya and Thomas followed suit. He led the way off of the path, taking them further into the forest to the area he had chosen as their campsite.