by Laura R Cole
CHAPTER 17
Layna and Gryffon waved good-bye to Megan and Carolyn as they disappeared into the swarm of ladies that had converged on them the moment they stepped into the Golden Girl's lobby for their happy home-coming.
The two had barely stepped back onto the street, when suddenly a group of men separated themselves from the crowd, intent on her and Gryffon. Layna sent a frightened look towards Gryffon and he pushed her roughly into an alley.
“Run!” he commanded. She shook her head at him, silently begging him not to ask her to leave him. “Go!” He gave her a stern look. She gave in, turning on her heel and fleeing. Tears sprung to her eyes.
Shouts rang out behind her as they came upon Gryffon. “Get him, men!” one of them yelled. “He's the one all right.” Layna stopped running and turned, horrified at the scene she saw behind her.
A man was fighting with Gryffon, who held him by the hair and was landing blow after blow on his bloodied face. Though Gryffon had the upper hand, there were too many of them. Layna raised her arm towards him in a futile attempt to stave off the blow she saw coming from behind, but her warning shout was lost amongst the din.
Gryffon fell and was roughly kicked in the side by the man who he had been punching. The man spat out a mouthful of blood onto Gryffon's now-limp form.
Before she could sprint back to his side, they had him slung over a horse. They rode off with him into the crowd, scattering people as they went.
“No, no, no,” moaned Layna as she pushed her way through the people who stood around, looking dumbly between her and the wake of the retreating horse. She glared around at them, and cried out, “Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't anybody stop them?!” People simply watched her outburst, or hurried off to avoid being caught in the scuffle.
She raced through the streets, making her way to Mila's house. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she sprinted, the cool air biting at her lungs. She came up short as she rounded a corner and saw that there were several men standing outside the house she shared with Mila.
She whipped back around the side of the building and plastered herself against it, breathing hard. Quietly she made her way around the back, and carefully climbed up the side of the house. She cracked open a window after peeking inside.
“All's clear up here,” said a voice at the top of the stairs, and heavy steps descended. Layna held her breath until the boots thudded onto the stone floor at the bottom, and then she heaved herself through the window. She tiptoed to the doorway so she could hear what was being said downstairs.
“Where is she?” demanded another voice, and Layna shuddered as she recognized it as Devon's.
Mila's calm voice answered sweetly. “Why, I don't believe I know who you're talking about.” Layna heard a loud thwack of flesh against flesh and a faint grunt.
“Oh I think you do know, Mila,” said Devon. “And I think you're going to tell me because you know what will happen if you don't.”
Layna heard Mila spit at the man and inwardly cringed for her.
Devon paused, obviously angered by the insult as he growled, “You shouldn't have done that.”
Layna heard a dull thud, a sharp intake of breath, and then a moan as something heavy hit the floor.
Devon barked an order to the rest of the men, “Burn it. Burn it to the ground.”
Footsteps banged into motion and Layna heard furniture being overturned and liquid splashing on the ground before the front door slammed shut. Layna listened carefully for any sounds that anyone was still inside, but heard only the faint crackling of a fire.
She carefully made her way to the stairs and peered down them, scanning the room for the men. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned farther out and caught sight of a foot lying sideways on the ground.
As she bounded down the stairs towards Mila's sprawled body, she broke into tears. The woman lay on her back, a puddle of blood slowly seeping out from a knife wound in her chest. Mila gasped for breath and smiled weakly at Layna.
“Well,” she wheezed, pausing as a fit of coughing overtook her. A dribble of blood started at the corner of her mouth. “That was not a very polite visit.” Layna held her hand over her mouth, blinking away tears. She reached her other hand towards Mila in an effort to do something, preparing to reach for the power despite her lack of training.
Mila saw her pain, and even in her own agony tried to soothe her. “Hush, child, it simply was my time. Please don't bother trying to heal me, unfortunately the little snake has good aim. You can't do anything. Not yet, anyway.” She smiled, a bright red stream flowing down her cheek. “Don't worry about me, I'm off to a better place...” Her voice faded out, and her head fell limply to the side as the life left her.
Layna sank to her knees in anguish beside her, oblivious to the fire which had started raging around her. She let out a long wail, weeping for the loss of a friend and an innocent person. It’s all my fault, she never would have been in danger if it hadn’t have been for me. And Gryffon…She rocked back and forth, her hands over her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Flames started to lick at her dress and her sleeve caught fire, painfully jolting her back to reality.
She stood unsteadily and took hold of Mila's arms gently, trying to drag her outside, out of the fire, but she could not. Even if she could get her outside somehow, what would she do with her?
Layna stood amongst the roaring flames in indecision, not wanting Mila to bear the injustice of having the burning house crumble around her. The table caught on fire as flames licked the oil that had been poured there, and Layna was reminded of a funeral pyre. She gathered her wits about her and gave Mila a parting kiss on the cheek before struggling to lift her body from the floor to the burning tabletop.
Once Mila's body was up on the table, Layna carefully arranged it, folding her arms on her chest. Taking a deep breath, Layna opened herself to the power. They had not had time to get very far in training her talent, but she knew enough that she could manipulate the fire. She very carefully imagined dipping her fingertips into the stream of power, and siphoned off a tiny amount. She used this to focus the flames on the table to incinerate Mila's body in a proper cremation. Tears flowed freely as she watched her friend and mentor slowly burn until all that was left was a pile of ashes on the table. Layna gathered these up in a jar that had so far escaped damage, and vowed to spread them somewhere that Mila would have liked.
Her panicked mind took over then, and she bolted upstairs, banging open drawers to hastily put together what few possessions she had. She flung open the window she had come in through, and glanced outside to make sure no one was watching. Once it was clear, she threw the bags down and then climbed down herself. She raced to the stables and thanked the Three that Axe and Fly were still there. Carolyn and Megan had wanted to walk this morning. She readied the horses in record time, putting their bags on Axe before hopping up onto Fly herself, and leading both out the back.
She paused just outside the gate and stood there for a long moment, watching as the flames engulfed the house that Layna had begun to think of as her home. Poor Mila. Layna's vision blurred as fresh tears welled up and her throat closed. She choked back the whimper that threatened to escape, and clung tightly to the jar of ashes. Smoke was pouring out of the windows, and the sounds of shattering glass filled the air. Thunderous crashes sounded as the roof rafters starting giving way. A black cloud of smoke rose to the cloudy sky above, a dark mar on the white horizon.
Layna watched in agony as the flames engulfed the house, and then jumped as suddenly a bright flash surprised her, causing her to step back involuntarily. A wisp of light came through with the smoke, rising slowly towards the heavens. Layna watched the light ascend and felt a calm spread over her, allowing her paralyzed mind to slowly creak back into motion. She realized with a panic that the streets were beginning to fill with shouting people as news of the fire spread. Layna
took a step, and hesitated, indecision halting her once more. A voice seemed to whisper in the wind, Go, and Layna burst into motion.
She didn't know what else to do, so she led Fly towards the outskirts of the city, slowing to go through the side gates. She held her breath, praying for the gate guard not to stop her. He simply nodded at her crossing, however, and she nodded back tensely. She led the horses slowly for a good distance, forcing the appearance of calm, before allowing her terror to overtake her, and she gave them the reins.
They galloped off into the wilderness as Layna cried hysterically, dropping the reins altogether and allowing Fly to take her where he pleased. She was lost in a flurry of wild thoughts as panic totally overcame reason, the cold wind biting at her neck as it whipped her hair wildly around her in Fly’s swift flight.
In a short while, the horses slowed to a trot, and then a walk. Fly lowered his head as he sniffed around on the ground, pawing through the snow to try and find some food to forage. Axe had followed them as well, being battle trained as he was, and Layna sighed in relief at that small piece of good fortune.
Her breathing slowly became more even, and she forced her mind to pull herself together and think rationally. She had just let the horses go where they pleased, and now she was out in the middle of the woods on her own. The sun was getting lower and the temperature, though heading towards spring, was still dangerously cold at night. Layna prodded her thoughts in the direction of making a shelter and a fire and nothing else.
She hopped off Fly and tethered him loosely where he had been grazing, and then went to find wood. Luckily, the snow in the forest was thinner because of the trees and Layna was able to gather together an adequate pile of relatively dry wood. She put her hand over the pile and whispered the word that Mila had taught her, staving off a tear that threatened to form in her eye at the memory, and carefully reached for the power. A tiny flame burst into being within the pile, and soon her small fire was solidly burning. A far cry from the first time she had tried to make a fire she thought proudly.
She yanked her thoughts away from the painful direction they were once again trying to pull her in, and set about to find a bunch of pine boughs to lay on to sleep. As she was searching, she found a bunch of small rocks and she gathered these as well, setting them on the edge of the fire to warm. Soon she had enough boughs to make a relatively comfortable bed and she went to Fly's saddlebag. Inside, there was a portable water bag that Gryffon had thought of to always carry with them in case they needed water but couldn't get close enough to it themselves. She unhooked it and shook it out, the oiled leather forming a large bowl shape, and she stuffed it full of snow. She sat down with it next to the fire, holding it close to melt the snow while warming her hands as well.
She stared into the fire, finding its dancing flames mesmerizing, and she numbly took stock of her present situation. So, basically, I am all alone in the middle of nowhere with only the few belongings I was able to quickly grab while my former house was burning, my mentor brutally stabbed to death, and my best friend kidnapped by probably the same murderers who were doing who knows what to him at this very moment. Well, it couldn't get any worse, right?
Layna cringed at the thought, and looked up at the sky waiting for the Three to curse her with sleet or snow or something, but the night remained calm. She sighed. She would have to try and save Gryffon - she couldn't just leave him in the hands of those people. Not when he had already saved her from the same, and she...and I just can't leave anyone in their hands, she finished the thought.
No matter how hard she thought about it though, she had no idea how she was going to help him. She couldn't just walk into Jezebel's manor, she would be caught immediately. She knew the way around, of course, but she was sure that the other servants were under strict orders to report it at once if they caught sight of her. Despite their inclinations towards her, she was unsure that they would risk their own lives for her sake. All her imagined schemes ended with death or imprisonment, and soon Layna found herself yawning uncontrollably, her earlier hysteric energy completely drained.
The snow in the water bag had all melted and she offered some to each of the horses who drank it with relish. She took off both saddles and commandeered the blankets beneath them for her bed. She rolled the sleeves of her coat over her hands and used them as mitts to pick up the now hot rocks, and put them underneath the pine boughs for added warmth. She then coaxed the horses to lie on either side of her and she cuddled between them, wrapping her coat and the blankets tightly around her.
She lay staring at the bright stars in the sky above her and named each of the Three, sending them a tiny prayer to help her. She also sent out a silent apology to Mila for so crudely burning her body, and then whispered a prayer of peace for her as well. Again, a soothing calm overtook her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
She was shivering when she woke, but no worse than when she had been back at Jezebel's. She saw that both horses had already risen, and were looking around for food. Fly noticed her movement and came over eagerly. He lipped at her hair, asking for food.
“I'm sorry, Gorgeous,” she told him regretfully, “but I only have a handful of grain or so from your bags. I don't know what we're going to do.” She fished out what she could, and they ate it greedily, looking for more. When they realized they weren't going to get anything else, they abandoned her to search for a patch of something edible on the ground. Layna looked around her, and sighed hopelessly. She had to pull herself together, but it was so overwhelming.
The quiet morning air was suddenly interrupted by the crunching of snow, and Layna spun around in alarm, searching for the source. A figure separated itself from the forest. As it became visible, Layna gave a cry of happiness and rushed forward to hug Charles. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you!” she exclaimed to him, choking on the words.
“What the blazes are you doin’ out here all by yerself?” he asked her, perplexed.
She broke down, words bubbling out of her as she recounted yesterday's events.
Charles listened silently, and lowered himself to the ground, staring straight ahead. “They killed Mila?” His voice was hardly audible.
“Yes,” whimpered Layna, “and I'm afraid they're going to kill Gryffon too. I don't know what I can do. Can't you help me please?” she pleaded.
Charles sat in silence for so long that Layna fidgeted uncomfortably. Out of desire to do something while Charles stared off into space, not answering her, she stood.
“Do you,” Layna stammered, struggling to open her saddlebag and retrieve the jar of ashes, “Do you know what Mila would have liked to have happened to her remains?”
Charles looked at her appraisingly before taking the offered jar, holding it as one would a new-born child. “Aye, I believe I rightly do,” he said softly. He carefully tucked the jar away with his own belongings and sat looking thoughtful a moment. After a time his expression hardened and he nodded shortly. “Mila would’ve wanted me to help you. No doubt we can come up with some sort of finagled plan to get ya in, but once yer there it’ll be up to you to find Gryffon and get him out while I takes care of this Devon fellow.” He paused for a moment before adding gruffly, “I hope you realize, young one, that we're gonna be right regular outlaws if we do somethin’ like this to a noble woman. Layna swallowed hard, but nodded. I am one already anyway. “Good,” said Charles, “then here's what we're gonna do...”
