*
Jane heard the rumbling sound of hoofs beating just soon enough for her and Lord Lodge to get off the road. Within seconds they had crossed a ditch and taken refuge behind a fallen tree. With extreme caution they peered over the trunk and through the broken branches. A pair of black clad riders galloped past, both intent upon the road before them and nothing else.
“I thought it would take them longer to react,” admitted Lodge to his companion. “Luckily you have impeccable senses.”
“I don’t suppose we can risk taking the road anymore?” Jane asked with fleeting hope as she turned to look at the wilderness behind them.
“I’m afraid it’s too risky. They’ll be watching the roads now, so we’re better off travelling cross-country.”
Their escape from the plush prison of the Crow’s Nest had progressed exactly as Lord Lodge had predicted. Phillip and the other groundskeeper had come to gather the two boxes presumably filled with chairs for Loch Dhu Island. After loading them on the wagon, he had caught sight of ropes lashed to a parapet by the cliff’s edge. Immediately suspicious, he completed a cursory search of the lodge and found the two guests missing. Without delay he tracked down one of Lord Cleavers men stationed outside the gate and informed him of the escape down the cliffside. His duty done, Phillip promptly returned to the wagon and quickly drove it past the gate and across the bridge, not wanting to incur further wrath from Lord Cleaver for having delayed delivery.
Lodge and Jane meanwhile had witnessed all of this from a window in the coach house. After waiting for a half hour, they had emerged from their perch to find a deserted courtyard, bridge, and gatehouse. Taking a large brass key from his pocket, Lord Lodge walked to the gate and squeezed his hand through the bars. With only a minor amount of effort a click from the lock rang out and he pushed the gate open. The gate on the other side of the bridge yielded to him just as easily, and with a slight flourish he prompted Jane to lead them out into freedom.
Sitting behind the fallen tree, Jane felt all of the exhilaration of the morning evaporate from within her. The full weight of their future prospects was now facing her. As far as she knew, there was no immediate plan of action. A direct return to the Manor was not possible, since Cleaver’s Black Pack would easily scoop them up before they could alert anyone. That being said, she had the feeling that there was a plan, but Lodge had still not taken her into his full confidence.
“We’re better to be off the road anyway,” said Lodge as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, Jane could see crisscrossing lines, various symbols, and small writing. A map. Lodge smiled as he sensed Jane staring at what he had just pulled out. “You didn’t think I’d spend so much time planning an escape to be lost once I emerged?”
“No, but I’ve never seen such an illegible map as that,” countered Jane peering at the mess of scribbles.
“I can’t risk our pursuers finding a decipherable map, or anyone we meet along the route relaying information to them from it.”
“You don’t even trust me?” she inquired, slightly hurt after the all the trials they had shared.
“My dear,” he said calmly, but with ice cold calculating eyes, “I don’t trust anyone. Shall we go?”
He motioned towards the rising ground of the forest beyond and began walking despite Jane’s hesitation. Knowing she would never make it alone, she quickly followed his path as they started climbing up the mountainside.
The pair headed east, trudging along deer paths that criss-crossed the wooded hills. Although the ground rose gently, Jane knew they had to be climbing a significant mountain. The Crow’s Nest itself was perched on a very high cliff, and they had only climbed upward since escaping. However the dense forest of enormous trees prevented her from gaining a proper look below or above.
Well after the sun reached its apex and began its slow descent, the escapees slowly found the trees surrounding them thinning. Their climb upward had led them out of the forests and onto a stretch of mountain pastureland above the tree line. With the trees finally gone Jane motioned for Lodge to stop so she could take full advantage of the vista surrounding her.
Turning to look back at the route they had travelled, Jane was stunned to see the elevation they had reached. The forest below seemed so steep; she momentarily doubted they had traversed it, as their journey had not been too onerous. But upon closer inspection she could just pick out the glittering roof of the Crows Nest below and the vast dark sea beyond. With a greater sense of accomplishment, Jane then shifted her gaze back upwards at the path ahead.
A small collection of mountain goats were grazing on wild flowers on a swathe of pastureland that cut its way between two peaks rising skyward. The pair of peaks stood like icy sentinels guarding the lush verdant pass with a cold faceless menace. Eager for their journey through the pass to be as quick as possible she nodded to Lodge to continue.
“This is the Janus Pass,” explained Lord Lodge as the path they were following led them under the shadows of the mountain. “It’s the safest way to cross the mountains for many miles. There’s an old stone hut up ahead that shepherds used to use. We’ll stop and rest there.”
After roughly thirty minutes of hiking, Jane noticed that Lord Lodge had stopped on a small rise ahead of her. Not seeing the aforementioned hut she began to ask the reason for the halt, but she was silenced as she came up beside him. She had spent the better part of a day trudging up a mountain with her eyes peeled to the ground for wood and stone obstacles. But now she stood facing a wide open and near infinite expanse. She could barely see another range of mountains in the distance, their peaks a faint line on the horizon. In between these two stone spines, an enormous patchwork of colours filled a wide valley below.
Jane had lived the majority of her life between her birth place of Rooks Bay and her place of employment at Ravenwood Manor. So in the past days she had seen more of the countryside than she had in all the weeks’ preceding it. Jane was shocked to discover the emotional response she felt as the land continued to reveal itself to her. The Crow’s Nest, with its dark stone cliffs and stormy sea view, had lent itself to a sense of desolation and despair. But as she looked out on the wide open land of forests, fields, lakes, and rivers, Jane suddenly felt the rising sense of freedom and possibility.
“I’ve lived on this island my entire life,” began Jane in quiet awe. “But I never really knew this place existed.”
“That’s not surprising,” offered Lodge, looking out over the valley himself. “It used to be used exclusively by the Hunt and the Manor. Out of bounds for anyone with sense.”
“Why?”
“This is where the hunt used to take place. It was not uncommon for people to disappear after entering the valley. That’s why all the older towns and villages are either on the coast or in the hills.”
“But it’s safe for us?” she asked calmly despite a rising sense of trepidation.
“Oh yes,” Lodge replied without hesitation. “The valley hasn’t been used as a hunting ground for decades. See those brown and yellow patches down there?”
Jane nodded after following Lodge’s outstretched finger pointing an area below.
“Those are farms, and if you follow that blue ribbon of a river you’ll see it leads to a small grey area. That’s a little village that sprung up some years ago. The entire valley is spotted with farms and small villages now.”
They began their descent and soon came upon the old shepherd’s hut, a squat stone shack wedged into a ledge of the mountain. Initially they refrained from lighting a fire, simply eating some of the rations they had taken from the lodge kitchen. However night began to fall quickly and both decided some warmth would be needed if they were to spend the night. The glow of the fire, a full stomach and an exhausting trek had Jane fighting off sleep once the sky darkened and the stars emerged. The last image she saw was of a motionless Lord Lodge sitting on a stone, staring out into the night with only the small puffs of smoke from his
pipe signally his consciousness.
A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Page 64
