Midnight Quest

by Honor Raconteur

  Chapter Three

  Rialt was having an absolutely fabulous time.

  Granted, it was no as much fun as dodging Daath patrols, seeing as how you were killed if caught, and this did no have the same hard edge of excitement. Still, he would take this as a good substitute. He had been rather crabbity when Elahandra had come and shaken him awake to harry off to the rescue. The Ramath had a long and unhappy history with the capitol and their policies, which made Rialt very reluctant to offer a hand to anyone here. Seeing as how Elahandra had given him a beautiful opportunity to tweak their noses like this, however, he felt his irritation with herself ease. A night giving these people the runaround was enough compensation for him to rescue a pathetic girl.

  The entire castle guard screamed for his blood, working in groups to try to block or cage him. He could see them becoming more desperate with each failed attempt, their ideas becoming wilder and less workable.

  His body felt good and warm after all of this exercise. The guards following after him were wheezing for breath, soaked in sweat, and worn down to a desperate scrabbling pace. They had only followed him from the ground, up one set of stairs to the battlement, all around the perimeter edge, down to the secondary level’s battlements, around again, and to the main courtyard. That amount was barely good for a warm-up, by Ramathan standards. What were their pathetic officers doing, to let their men get this out of shape?

  Rialt was far enough ahead of the crowd that he took a moment to open all of the cell doors, just for the sheer evil pleasure of it. The men imprisoned there were no his allies, but they were certainly no friends of the guards, and they cheered him on as he broke open the locks. Just to add more mayhem to the madness, they tumbled out of the cells and started running around.

  The already panicked guards were nearly beside themselves as they were forced to divert a good portion of their men to dealing with the escaped prisoners.

  Rialt laughed boisterously as he went up the stairs again. He would take another lap around, just to keep them busy, maybe throw in an obvious attempt to get out of the castle in a few minutes just to keep them on their toes.

  What a fine night this was turning out to be!

  ~*~*~*~

  They weren’t very far down the rock face at the back of the castle when Jewel realized that leading a castle full of guards on a merry chase might very well be the easier task.

  She did not need to see the sheer drop that they were navigating to understand just how difficult and dangerous it was. The slight wind that she felt on her skin as they rappelled out of the window was harsher down here among the rocks, and it whined as it skimmed its way in and out of crags. This was no gentle slope, but a harsh incline with sharp angles to it. A scent not unlike metal, with a chalky aftertaste to it, invaded her mouth and nose and told her that they were completely surrounded by rocks. There was no smell of earth or vegetation to soften it. Each movement on Sarvell’s part, as his hands and feet brushed against rock, made a soft scraping sound that echoed oddly. She knew without being told that if he slipped there would be nothing but sharp boulders to halt their descent.

  More than these reports her senses were making, she could feel the strain in Sarvell’s body. Each time he moved his arms his shoulders would press into hers, and she could feel the slight tremor in his muscles as he struggled to maneuver with her added weight on his back. His breath came in harsh, short intervals as well, and the skin in front of her face nearly steamed with heat. He was a strong man, she could feel that clearly, but even the strongest of men could only demand so much from their bodies before they would start to feel the strain.

  They could not stop and rest, not even for a moment. They couldn’t afford to stay in the castle’s shadow as they were. Even though Jewel knew that, she wished she could somehow help this man who was trying so hard for her sake.

  Not knowing what else to do, she released her gripped hands so that she could raise one sleeve to his temples and wipe off the sweat beading there.

  “Thank you,” he gasped, grunting slightly as he shifted and lowered them to another level. “The sweat is stinging my eyes.”

  This was something she could do to help, then. She waited a few moments before lifting her hand again, wiping at his temples.

  “I’m glad you’re small,” he said in short pants. “This would be impossible…otherwise.”

  “Are we nearing the bottom?” she asked hopefully.

  “No,” he denied wryly. “About a third of the way.”

  Only a third? Considering how tired he already was, Jewel couldn’t imagine how he would make it to the bottom. Even if he did, he would surely collapse, which they couldn’t afford to do. The bottom of this thrice-cursed cliff didn’t equate freedom. Once they were on level ground again, they would have to quickly flee the area. He had to have the energy necessary to keep traveling for the rest of the night.

  At this rate, he’d never make it.

  In the course of her eighteen years, whenever Jewel came to a point where she needed help or advice, Elahandra was the one she prayed to. Under circumstances this dire, Jewel didn’t hesitate to bow her head and offer a silent prayer to her goddess. Elahandra, this amazing man you sent to me is doing everything he can, but I worry for him. I’m afraid he’s nearing exhaustion. Can you help him?

  The soft, gentle voice that answered her sounded as if it were within her own mind. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask.”

  Jewel sensed the power that washed over them both, there and gone again in the blink of an eye. Sarvell froze on the spot. “Priestess, what did you just do?”

  “I prayed,” she answered, feeling like a heavy stone had been lifted from her, “and Elahandra blessed you with the strength you’ll need to last the night.”

  She could not see it, but the smile was clear in his voice. “Thank you. And thank the goddess for her generosity. Now I’m confident I can get you down.”

  Her frantic grip on his shoulders eased as he started down again, maneuvering with more speed and dexterity. She laid her head on his back, listening to his steady heartbeat and breathing.

  “You’re not cold, are you? That coat is helping to protect you from the wind?”

  She smiled against his back. “I’m fine.”

  ~*~*~*~

  The rest of the night passed in something of a blur for Jewel. When they’d reached the bottom of the rocks—for which both of them said a prayer of thanks as well as the fervent wish they’d never do something similar again—Sarvell had led her straight to a hiding spot on the outskirts of town. It had three horses, already saddled and loaded with supplies. Jewel had only the impression that it was some sort of shed or small barn, judging from the musty smells and air of disuse, but she had no time to gather firmer impressions. Sarvell tossed her onto the back of a horse, climbed up behind her, and quickly put them on the road.

  She asked her companion no questions as they rode. It was clear to her that he was trying to think and do about three things at once. In no way did she want to distract him at this juncture.

  They rode in silence for some time at a steady lope. Time passed without any real meaning until the sun started to rise, giving off pale warmth that danced along her skin. Jewel turned her face toward the sun, smiling as the rays became stronger. After four days of complete isolation, she enjoyed the sensations of the outside world.

  “Priestess, we need to get off of this road before anyone sees us,” Sarvell said without warning. “We’re too conspicuous. People are going to remember us.”

  A blind girl in an Order dress, wearing a guard’s jacket, with a man that was obviously not of Thornock? Yes, that would certainly be memorable. “What do you suggest?”

  “I think we need to get off this main road and to one of the back trails. The way is going to be rougher, and I won’t be able to hold you in front like this. If you ride behind me, can you hang on tight for an hour or so? I might need to guide us quickly off the path without warning, and I don’t w
ant you falling off.”

  Her arms were already aching from hanging on as he climbed down from the castle. Did she have the strength to do so? “I can.”

  “Good. Let’s change roads, and then we’ll stop long enough to put you behind me.”

  The horse’s gait shifted as it turned, and the sharp sound of hooves hitting stone changed to a duller thud of hooves against dirt. They rode like this, at a slower pace, for several moments before the sound changed again from loose dirt to packed and hardened soil.

  They slowed to a stop. “Here is good. Priestess, if you’ll hang onto my arm like this—yes, just so—and now swing your leg up high and around.”

  A little nervous about doing this (Jewel had rarely been on horseback in her life) she took a deep breath, gripped Sarvell’s arm as tightly as she could, and threw herself in the direction he wanted. She felt her clothes twist as she slid roughly against him, and the smooth feel of the horse’s hide against her bared legs. Sarvell’s hold abruptly checked her from moving, catching her from going too far over and sliding off the other side. She came to a somewhat abrupt halt with her legs on either side of the horse’s rump. A minor sense of victory washed through her. “Phew, that worked.”

  Sarvell let out a soft chuckle that she could feel vibrate into her from where they touched. “Don’t worry, I would have hit the ground before you did. Elahandra will have my head if you’re hurt on my watch.”

  “She probably would,” Jewel agreed ruefully. Releasing her death grip on his arm, she took a moment to straighten out her clothes as much as she could. The dress she wore was not wide enough to really ride astride like this, and judging from the cool air on her skin, her ankles were bared. Oh well. It wasn’t like anyone would see, anyway.

  Sliding both arms around his waist, she locked her fingers together in front of his belt buckle. “Alright, I’m ready.”

  “Good.” With a gentle tap of his heels, Sarvell urged the horse back into motion.

  Jewel had a thousand questions she wanted to ask him, including how he’d been called to come to her rescue, but bit them back. The horse moved at a fast enough clip that they could not talk comfortably over the sound of hoof beats. Besides, Sarvell no doubt was intently scanning their surroundings, watching for any traffic that they would have to hide from.

  They dove off the road only three times, and twice Sarvell was able to issue a word of warning before they moved. She tightened her grip and didn’t disgrace herself by falling off.

  Aside from hanging onto Sarvell and gripping the horse’s sides tightly enough so that she wouldn’t bounce around, Jewel had nothing to do. Her ears automatically caught every hint of noise it could and catalogued it: faint calls of songbirds, the lower tones of cows’ bells as they jangled, the leaves rustling against each other from the slight breeze. Several times she heard men and women speaking, sometimes raised to carry over a distance. None of it told her what direction they were heading, or where they were now. That wasn’t much of a surprise, really, considering that she’d spent most of her life in Belthain.

  It wasn’t until she heard the faint gurgle and soft rush of running water that she gained any bearing. “Are we nearing the mill?” she asked, pitching her voice to carry over the hoof beats.

  “Yes,” he answered, sounding a bit startled, “how did you know?”

  “I can hear water,” she responded simply.

  “Ah. We should reach it in a few minutes.”

  It seemed he’d barely spoken the words before they left the hard dirt road for soft grass. The sound of water became clearer and louder as they drew closer to the river. She could not feel the sun here, but the sound of rustling leaves encircled them. They must be surrounded by trees, then.

  “It’s still deserted,” Sarvell noted with a tinge of relief. “We should be able to wait here without worry until Rialt arrives. Now, if you hang onto my arm again, can I lower you to the ground?”

  “Easily,” she assured him, a bit amused and humbled in turns at the care he showed her.

  “Alright, grab on then.”

  Sliding from the back of a horse was much easier than shifting around on top of it, and Jewel was rather relieved when her feet were back on firm ground. She stepped back two paces to give him room to dismount, which he did with a soft grunt.

  “Well, how about breakfast while we wait?”

  “Sounds heavenly,” she admitted. “Do we have provisions?”

  “Rialt and I made sure to buy some before we went for you. I’ve got fresh biscuits and some sunte fruit…and I would offer tea, but it’s in Rialt’s bags.” This last part sounded almost apologetic.

  “Water will do fine,” she responded in amusement. “Especially with the river so close.”

  Sarvell insisted on starting a small fire and parking her next to it before he did anything. In this cold winter morning, the heat flaring from it was very welcome. She tried to help with fetching the water, only to be gently returned to her seat. He worried about her walking around in a foreign area. Really, the worst that could happen would be for her to trip over something. She could hardly get lost, not with him being so close and making noises that she could follow. Still, after the night she’d had, sitting down was a priority. Jewel decided not to push the issue.

  Instead, she sat next to the small crackling fire and sliced the sunte fruit, chucking the slippery seeds over her shoulder as she worked. Sarvell came back bearing the two cups with water, one of which he handed directly to her. She did steal a rag from him and washed her face, hands, arms and legs as much as she could of the dungeon’s grime.

  Over their simple breakfast, Jewel finally unleashed her curiosity and got answers to her questions, starting with how Sarvell was sent to her aide. He turned out to be a bit of a storyteller as he painted the picture of an angry goddess rousting him out of a comfortable bed. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or apologize at her goddess’s impatient methods.

  Before she could delve further into her questions, the unmistakable sound of hoof beats from a single rider drifted toward her ears. She paused, head cocked slightly, trying to hear better. “A rider is coming our direction.”

  “You can hear that?” Sarvell twisted where he sat, his clothes making a slight scraping sound against the ground. “I can’t even see anything.”

  She smiled slightly when the sound changed from the sharp impact against packed dirt to the softer grass. “You should soon. He just left the road. He’s heading straight for us, so I think it’s Rialt.”

  “Let’s hope so.” His metal cup clinked a bit as he sat it down on the ground, and there was the sharp ring of metal on metal as his sword left its sheath.

  They waited in taut silence for several moments as the sound of hoof beats grew louder and more distinct. She knew it was Rialt when Sarvell blew out a relieved breath and the sword sang as it slid home again.

  “So, you fared alright, I see.” The tone was amused, but Sarvell clearly felt pleased to see him.

  “Oh, I had a fine time,” Rialt assured him with a suspiciously evil chuckle. “Watching them hop and scurry about most of the night was a sight. I have no had such fun in years. You two look fit as well. How was the climb down?”

  “Long. Arduous. If the gods have any pity, we’ll never be put into such a situation again.”

  “Perhaps an offering to Corbeird is in order,” Jewel suggested. “To avoid further misfortunes.”

  “Eh, it be no a bad thought,” Rialt agreed. Leather creaked as he dismounted, and the heavy way he landed on the ground suggested that he was more fatigued than he let on.

  “Come have breakfast,” Sarvell invited.

  ~*~*~*~

  The small size of the fire was a necessity to avoid drawing attention to themselves, but it also produced very little heat. Rialt watched as the little priestess drew closer, nearly putting her hands into the flames, little shivers dancing along her skin. The wind had a nip to it, true, but it was no unseasonably cold. Apparently she w
as used to being coddled indoors. Unlike him.

  Sarvell caught one of her hands and pushed a hot cup of tea into it, which she accepted with a thankful nod and smile. He watched her with open concern, but Rialt did no think it was because of the slight chill. He probably thought the same thing Rialt did—that it was nearly impossible to be on the run with someone blind.

  “Priestess,” Sarvell asked in a low, gentle tone, “can you tell me why you were locked in the dungeon?”

  She lowered the cup after talking a healthy swallow, head turned slightly in his direction. “Elahandra did not tell you?”

  “She told us very little,” Sarvell admitted with a dry smile that she could not see. “In fact, the only thing she told me was that you were in trouble, where to find you, and that Rialt would be joining me.”

  “Ah.” She lowered her cup even further, hands clenching around it. “Several of the ministers came to me and tried to persuade me to alter the barrier to exclude the Ramath Clan. I don’t know why—I naively thought that if I ignored politics, it would ignore me in turn—but I gathered that the Ramath Clan leaders had refused to do something. They wanted me to open the barrier, exposing them to the Daath, to force them to change their minds.”

  Sarvell shot Rialt a look that he barely noticed. This was no the first time that such a threat had been leveled against his clan because of some high-handed minister’s own agenda. The surprise was no in the threat, but that she had stood against it. This small, nearly defenseless girl had withstood captivity and death threats rather than leave his clan vulnerable to attack. She had no flinched from protecting people that she had never met, which meant she likely never would.

  She could no see him. She had no idea that she spoke in front of one of the Ramath Clansmen that she had helped to protect. No one here knew that he had nearly told a goddess off rather than come to her rescue. Still, even then, the hot flush of shame heated his face.

  He stood from his crouch, moving closer to the fire, swinging off the heavy cloak he wore as he did so. Gently, he placed it around her shoulders, gathering the front to close in around her. She initially startled at the first touch of the cloth against her skin, but when she realized what it was, she reached up to catch his hand, holding him there.