He left his pursuers far behind in the minutes that followed, for he had passed through this area many times before and knew where all of the small, discreet pathways were that made it easier for him to pass through the dense underbrush that characterized much of the local forestry.
By the time he arrived at the cave, he could no longer sense his pursuers. Unfortunately, the artificial mound of hollowed-out rock was in plain view by the time he arrived at its threshold, meaning that Aglain must have dispelled the enchantment that had mysteriously kept it removed from the world.
I need to hurry.
A few auras appeared on the peripherals of his perceptions, quickly followed by several more. Sensing this, Alistar rushed into the cave only to find it abandoned. Where Aglain had stood at the time of his betrayal lay a large pile of black ashes that vaguely gave off the man’s aura.
Heart pounding, the first thing Alistar snatched up was his mother’s locket, quickly followed by his ancient crystal and the little gem that Mr. Herst had given him some time ago. Once the minerals were safely stored within the locket, he draped it over his neck and then hurriedly gathered up everything that he could carry. This included a cloak that he had gifted to Aglain that the man had never worn, the packet of parchment that his uncle had given him early that morning, the weathered journal that Aglain had praised in the past as being an object of significant importance, as well as the old sword and its scarred scabbard.
He also snatched up the trousers that Aglain had been wearing, dipped them within the barrel of water he’d brought for the tormented hero a while back and then used up what little energy he’d regained to rotate the water in a rapid swirl. When his pursuers were only a few hundred paces away, he removed all the moisture from the soft brown fabric before putting on the partially laundered trousers and rushing away from the cave.
Familiar as he was with this area of the forest, Alistar was able to increase the distance between him and the bishop’s men by about six hundred more paces over the next minute and a half, at which point he stumbled upon an unexpected scene.
A girl sat slumped against a tree while panting heavily from both pain and fatigue. Her hair was long and frayed, filthy with grease, dirt and debris as she cradled the burnt body of a younger boy in her arms. Exhausted as she was, she belatedly looked up as Alistar ran by the tree that she was leaning on, revealing bright emerald eyes on a black background.
He didn’t recognize her in particular, but her eyes and hair immediately made him think of the other children that had been subjected to that terrible ritual at the hands of Bishop Maels, and he couldn't help but feel sympathy toward her.
She’s a Ket, he realized, recalling the many lessons he’d had with Mr. Herst behind closed doors.
When the limiter on her arm flared up with sudden ferocity, he immediately held out a hand to placate her. In Drunish, he said, “I’m not your enemy. The church is after me.”
Whether she understood the language or not, he couldn’t tell, for her eyes rolled backward and she abruptly lost consciousness. Even now, she stooped over the younger boy in a protective manner, despite the fact that he was clearly dead.
Alistar cursed. If he left her here then his pursuers would surely stumble upon her while she was unconscious. Considering that she was a Drunaeda, her fate could only be imagined.
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Placing his belongings down for a moment, he tried to remove the boy’s body from her arms, but her grip was like that of an iron clamp. Normally he would have been immensely saddened by the scene, but he’d just lost so many of his loved ones that he was currently incapable of feeling sadness, thus was the extent of such sentiments within him. This, along with the fact that he could now hear the approach of his pursuers as they cut their way through bushes and brambles, prevented him from succumbing to his emotions in this moment.
He decisively looped the belt of the scabbard through the rings along his trousers’ waistline to free up space in his hands before he pried the boy from her grip and quickly rested his charred form against the trunk of a nearby tree. Conscious of the painful-looking burns that covered the right side of her body, he threw the girl over his left shoulder and continued off into the forest. The burns should have been caused by the residual heat of whatever spell had erased the other children from existence, as was clearly the case with her brother who had likely been closer to the flames than she had.
There was a heavy presence of smoke in the area, likely from the fire that Alistar had failed to extinguish earlier in the afternoon.
It wasn’t long before he stumbled out onto the Winding Road, panting heavily from carrying the girl through thickets and thorns while juggling the old notebook and his uncle’s letter in his other hand. Her arm and shoulder were raw and oozing liquid, with many cuts having opened up along their lengths from the hazardous underbrush that he had been forced to fight his way through.
Although he was more familiar with the area than those behind him, at least a few of his pursuers were experienced outdoorsmen. Three of the men had pulled far ahead of their companions and were now just a hundred or so paces away from him.
“Over there, by that big tree!” one of them called out, more voices rising up to relay the message to those that lagged behind.
Controlling his swordsman’s aura as carefully as possible, Alistar ran southward down the Winding Road at an impressive pace, dark cloak trailing behind him as he kept his eyes focused up ahead.
Part of him wanted to stop in place, turn around and rely on his ancient crystal to dispose of his followers, but he had never siphoned energy from such a potent magic crystal before let alone used one to power his combative spells. Since he didn’t know whether relying on such a unique catalyst would have a negative effect on his spellwork or not, he didn’t want to risk a crucial mistake when every second was precious.
He eventually arrived at a fork in the road, one leading to another town within the kingdom and the other branching off toward the Baldor Empire, specifically Melsian County where Crystellum was located. He knew that he wouldn’t arrive at the mines if he went in this direction, for Crystellum was connected to the Winding Road by a smaller pathway, the very same one that he and his uncle Raidon had fled from after receiving the warning letter that Servan had cunningly placed within their bag of provisions.
Knowing that there was no longer a place for him within the Holy Lucian Empire, Alistar chose to head in the direction of the area where Alder had first found him.
Over the hours that followed, he maintained a satisfactory lead ahead of the bishop’s men, though his heart suddenly froze when he heard the distinct sound of galloping hooves at his back. He’d been expecting this, since his original pursuers had chased him for over an hour before they’d had the sense to order someone back to send for some horsemen.
I can’t keep this up for much longer.
No matter what, he couldn’t allow himself to be captured, not after he’d heard of the dismal fates that had befallen other victims of the curse of immortality. Above all else, he didn’t want to be chained to a rock and thrown into the sea.
Alistar didn’t hesitate to break away to the right, heading westward into the forest where the oncoming horsemen would have no choice but to either abandon their steeds or drastically slow their pace. Having made it this far, he could only thank Tramon for having trained him so well. Most swordsmen would have long since run out of stamina, as had been the case for the ones that had initially followed him over the county’s southern wall.
“Let go…” came a weak, anguished voice.
The girl on his shoulder had just woken up and was beginning to struggle with the scant amount of strength left to her. Evidently, she spoke the Common Tongue.