by Kya Lind
Chapter 8
During the fourth watch, Traven was awakened by small hands untying his bound wrists. Surprised, he jerked and tried to sit up. The shadow of a small person appeared above him in the dark. The person pushed on his shoulder to quiet him. He glanced through the darkness to see the guard who was supposed to be watching him, slumped, sleeping against the tree opposite him, snoring softly. Traven slowly quietly sat up and rubbed the blood back into his rope-burned wrists. His eyes cut through the darkness. Nothing stirred in the camp, except the horses. The dark figure of his rescuer moved through the night toward the horses. The animals stomped their feet and shifted nervously. Traven struggled to his feet and limped quietly over to the sleeping guard. He slowly lifted his chainmail and armor and then his weapons. Praising his luck, he followed the shadow to the horses. He was surprised to find Barn and one of the other horses already saddled and ready to go. The shadow moved to the other horse and loaded something that sounded to Traven’s trained ears to be a bag of coin, and he would bet, silver jewelry into the saddlebags. The shadow waited. With a muffled groan, Traven swung himself into Barn’s saddle. The shadow followed suit.
Traven realized that his companion had thought to take only the two horses they would be riding. He clicked his tongue in irritation. Dismounting, he snatched the tether leads of the other horses and remounted. The effort left him gasping for breath. He kicked Barn gently, and the whole herd of horses moved in unison away from the camp. A minute later, Traven looked over his shoulder. The camp behind them was still silent, no alarm had been sounded. Traven had heard his guard noisily snoring when he had passed him. He looked toward the shadow of his rescuer in the dark. How had this person arranged for a trained gallan of Royal Guards to sleep through their horses leaving camp? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t sticking around to find out. Traven nudged Barn into a canter. He smirked. Let’s see if the Royal horses could keep up with Barn tonight. He turned off the pain, and rode as though his life depended on it; for he was very sure that at this point it did. He had to get back to the safety of a Kingdom guard post. The nearest one that he knew of in this region was Dunbar Keep. Traven estimated that it was well over a three day ride from here. He gritted his teeth; he planned on making it in two.
Traven allowed himself to pause for a few minutes to drink water from a stream as the sun was rising the next morning. For the first time, Traven looked at his rescuer in interest. The young boy with dirty blonde hair knelt beside the water. The kid’s shoulders drooped in exhaustion. Traven frowned; the boy was definitely eleven or twelve. How had he thought him so much younger the other night? Maybe it was a trick of the light. After filling his flask with fresh water, the boy staggered to the horse he was riding and pulled several biscuits from a folded cloth and handed Traven a handful.
The soldier hungrily shoved one into his mouth and began unsaddling Barn. He put the tack on one of the other horses, and watched amused as the kid struggled to follow his example. It took the kid three tries before he landed the heavy saddle on the big horse’s back. Traven frowned again. How had he saddled the two horses last night in the middle of a Royal guard camp? Traven shook his head. Too many things didn’t add up. He wasn’t going to figure it out now; time for that later when he was safe. Now they needed to keep moving. Traven struggled to mount the horse. Grabbing the other horses’ tethers, he nudged the big horse into a canter. The kid followed behind.
Throughout the day, the kid shared more dried meat and biscuits from his bag. They rode silently together most of the time, neither one of them talking. At different intervals, Traven would try to engage the kid in conversation, but the kid kept decidedly mute and refused to answer even one of the Captain’s inquiries.
The kid kept checking their direction based on the position of the sun. By the time they stopped to regroup at dusk, the kid had a permanent scowl on his face. Traven pushed them far into the night, until even the un-mounted horses were starting to stumble in the dark from exhaustion.
Late the following night, Traven called a halt near a much traveled crossroads; He stopped the group, and told the kid to hold the horses where they were. He then backed each horse up, one at a time. Making them walk in the wagon wheel ruts, and then detoured them into a thick stand of evergreen trees off the side of the road. Traven, then meticulously, covered the tracks to the grove. He staked the horses, secured the tack so it was soundless, and wearily slumped to the ground. He noticed that the boy sat facing him with a furious scowl on his face. The last thing he had thought before he slid into a troubled sleep was ‘what is that kid’s problem?’
Traven’s ribs were killing him. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled to sit up straight. There was a tight band around his chest. Pain seeped out of every muscle. He was going to die. He couldn’t move. He was lying on a giant block of ice. All alone, no one could hear him. No one cared; he was going to freeze to death and no one was even going to miss him. He sucked a painful breath in through clenched teeth.
A knock sounded on the door, distracting Traven from his death-is-near monologue. He frowned. “Who is making that insistent racket?” he demanded.
The knocking came again.
“Come in,” he shouted.
The door opened, and light flooded the dark area. The beautiful lady, the image from the previous night appeared in the doorway. Traven sat up; his pain, momentarily, forgotten.
The vision moved toward him. He had never seen anything to match her beauty. This is the kind of Lady that sonnets were written about, that wars were fought over, that made life worth living, he thought. He smiled up at her. She moved toward him with grace, the silver of her bracelets tinkling like music as she walked. The world was perfect. . . . and then his eyes moved from her figure to her face.
She was glaring at him. Fury rolled off of her in waves. She pointed a slender finger at him in accusation and demanded. “Where are you taking the boy?”
Traven recoiled in surprise. “We are going to Dunbar Keep, we will be safe there,” he explained disoriented.
“You said you would take him north,” she accused, “You vowed you would take him north if he set you free.”
“Yes, I did say that, but you are just a dream, a figment of my imagination. I agreed because you are just a dream,” Traven said again in confusion. He had promised that, and the boy had set him free. But she was only a dream. . . right?
The beautiful Lady fell on the ground next to him in defeat. Her head was bowed in despair.
Then she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I can understand you agreeing before you knew the full importance of your commitment, but I had such high hopes that you would be a knight in my darkest hour. Now, I can see that I expected too much.” She fluttered her hands in defeat, and continued bravely. “We must not burden you further. . . . the boy will take one horse and be on his way.” She stood up and squared her shoulders; she smiled at him weakly and turned to go.
“Stop,” Traven almost shouted. “I told you I would take him, and I will,” he solemnly promised. The Lady gave him another weak smile and walked through the doorway. The door shut and disappeared. Traven blinked. What had he just agreed too? He knew it was something that he would regret. Hell, he already regretted it.
As the sun touched the top of the horizon and its watery light filtered through the thick cover of the concealing evergreens, Traven drug his aching body into the saddle, leaving the boy huddled in a heap sleeping. The boy lay in a fetal position with a horse blanket over his head. The only thing Traven could see of him was a dirty worn boot. Traven rode out of camp. He scouted the area, checking the tracks to see if fast moving horses had been through the crossroads while he
had slept. He checked to see if horses had backtracked or circled where the two roads met. He couldn’t find any evidence their pursuers were in front of them. That did not mean they were far behind though. That distance was hard to judge. The best plan was to be as far ahead of them as possible.
; Traven returned to camp to find the kid in the exact position he had been when Traven had left camp, snoozing with his head under a horse blanket. Traven half smiled. How did he sleep under that dirty smelly blanket?
Traven kicked him on the sole of the boy’s boot. “Up,” he commanded.
The blanket moved and a muffled groan came from under the heavy weight. The bag of silver sailed out from under the blanket to land at Traven’s feet. The blanket shifted and was flung back. The kid sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight. Staggering to his feet, the boy made for the woods. Traven left him to take care of business while he saddled another horse and stored the supplies they had used last night. Traven retrieved the bag of silver and tied it to the horn of his saddle.
The kid returned and climbed determinedly up the side of the horse into the saddle. Pain crossed the youngster’s face as his form fitted to the seat. Traven knew the same feeling was reflected on his own face. After six days of hard riding, his rump was wearing thin.
Traven pondered the visit from his vision last night. The Lady and the kid seemed to think that it was a life and death matter that the kid be taken north. Traven frowned. What was north of here? Not much except the Shadow Mountains. Well, whatever the reason, this kid was nothing but walking trouble. He had a bag of coin and silver jewelry, and a troop of Royal Soldiers after him. The kid had ridden hard for a fortnight at least and was still determined to keep moving; that kind of dedication usually only came from knowing that if you stopped you were dead.
Traven gritted his teeth and moved the train of horses that he had strung one right after another in a line so that the horses walked in one straight track away from the campsite and away from the main roads. He moved the whole group at an angle to the road but in the direction they had come last night.
Now he had to figure out how to circle around behind their pursuer’s backs before starting north. This whole thing was stupid. Why should he care about this young pup, or his dream Lady? She wasn’t real. Even if she was she surely didn’t look like the vision he had seen in his head. Why was he letting some Dreamweaver turn his head? He was smarter than that. He hadn’t fallen off the turnip wagon yesterday. He recognized the signs of magic. That dream lady was most likely an old fat man with smelly breath. And he knew good and well that Nobles abhorred Magics. That girl, if she was female, was no Noble’s daughter. Someone must be persuading him against his will he reasoned. Why else would he be keeping a promise made to a figment of his imagination? Why else would he desert his plan to find a safe haven to save his own life? He must be persuaded. A memory of the Lady formed and held in his mind’s eye, her eyes begging him to save her. Traven growled in frustration. He must be persuaded. He wouldn’t willingly be this stupid, would he? For a Magic? Or was he? He remembered her dance of joy the first time he had said yes. What if this kid or whoever he was working with had actually killed a Noble or something insane? And here he was helping a fugitive get away. He thought about the silver and the coin, as well as the fact that the kid had stolen his horse, and was riding hell-bent to leather to get away. Why did the kid come back for Traven? He could have simply taken another horse and kept heading north. The Royals thought they had their man. The kid would have been long gone by the time they discovered otherwise. Why had the kid risked everything to free Traven? For that matter, why was he arrested in the first place? Traven felt like he was the missing piece of the puzzle, but he couldn’t see the whole picture. Why did the Royal guardsmen think they needed him? No matter what the reason, the boy needed to get to the north, Traven had now vowed to take him there. Well, he had promised. Traven shrugged. If he decided to back out now, he would have to pick a different Kingdom post to run too. He knew that the troop of Royals was fast approaching, and the lead that he had ridden all night to secure was dwindling with each step the horses took.
He needed a plan, new supplies, and to dump the extra war horses somewhere they wouldn’t be found. He needed sleep and bath, and some pain medicine--not necessarily in that order. The best place to find all those things would be in a larger settlement. Traven searched his mind for the nearest large village. Wins Crossing was the nearest, but it was a half-day’s ride south. Traven nodded to himself. That would have to do. He could get what he needed, and a good night’s sleep and give the Royal’s time to get lost.
Traven nudged the horses into a canter, and quickly found the road south to Wins Crossing. He figured it would take the Royals most of the day to find his trail. He would be gone by the time they spent all day tomorrow searching the large settlement for someone who could identify him.
Seeing his intended course, the kid scowled at him, but continued to remain silent. Traven thought that the kid might turn his horse around and head off alone. The Kingdom guard shrugged his shoulders. Well, if the kid chose to do that then Traven wouldn’t be responsible for him anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep his promise to the Dream Lady. Traven noted with surprise and disgust that the kid didn’t leave, but continued to follow the herd south, glaring daggers at Traven’s back all the way.
Late that afternoon Traven led them off the road into a sheltered group of trees near a stream. The kid slumped to the ground and rested his head in his hands. Traven wondered if he was sleeping. A short time later, after the horses had drunk their fill, the two mounted and continued away from the road.
Traven found what he was looking for, a large barn set apart from the main house. They waited until the farm family had finished their evening chores and had gone back to the main house for dinner. The Kingdom guard led the string of horses into the large structure, being sure to enter on the side hidden from the house’s view. Traven opened the big barn door and guided the horses into the cool, dark depths. Once inside, Traven set to work. He found a shoeing mantle and a nail craw and immediately proceeded to take the shoes off all of the Royal horses. The kid watched him intently in the near dark. His head tilted to one side, considering the guard's actions. After the last shoe was removed, Traven gathered them all up and marched outside to the well where he quickly dropped the lot into the water. Returning, he fed each horse grain from the barn’s stores and bedded them down for the night.
Traven mounted Barn, loaded with all the supplies, and swung the boy up behind him in the saddle. The kid sat stiffly not touching the guard’s back. Traven suggested he hold on as he nudged Barn out of the farm structure and away through the night toward the city of Wins Crossing. Traven smiled to himself. That farmer was going to be in for a big surprise in the morning. Traven knew the farmer had two options. The first—keep his mouth shut about the windfall of five warhorses—seemed most likely. If he were honest or afraid, he would try to get a message to the nearest Royal guard post, three days away. Either way Traven would have the time he needed to escape.
Traven had worked in this area several years before. His gallan had been in charge of finding and eliminating a group of local bandits who were stealing horses and cattle from the surrounding farms. The thieves had been smart, and it had taken Traven several weeks to find their trail and eliminate the problem. He had traveled all over this area, and remembered it well.
Traven steered Barn into a shallow creek that followed the general direction he wanted to go. Barn picked his way steadily along the creek bed, making good time. Within two hours, they were at the outskirts of Wins Crossing. The big warhorse joined the late evening traffic that passed under the city's gates and flowed toward the center of town. Traven followed his nose to a respectable looking inn located on the rise leading to the Grand Manor. They rode Barn to the stables in the rear of the establishment and handed him over to the stable hands. Traven checked the quality of the horses and tack already bedded down for the night. No guards of any kind. Traven sighed in relief. The only guards he had seen so far were the regular city guards, nothing to worry about.
Traven strolled with purpose through the back door of the inn. He commanded a room facing the front of the hotel, a bath d
elivered immediately, and a large dinner served in the room. The inn proprietor jumped into action. They were shown to their room, dinner was served promptly. They ate hungrily off heaping plates. A large tub was brought in. The tub was slowly filled by servants bearing buckets of steaming water. Traven paid with coins from the bag. The kid’s scowl deepened.
After his stomach was stuffed, and the servants had departed, Traven moved to the tub, and began stripping out of his dirt and sweat covered clothes. He could not lift his left arm above his head, and called from the folds of the shirt for the kid to come help him. The boy stubbornly shook his head no, and only relenting after Traven threatened to tan his backside. The kid moved cautiously closer and attempted to help without touching the shirt or Traven’s chest more than necessary. Once Traven was free of the shirt, the kid quickly scooted to the other side of the room and refused to look in Traven’s direction. Traven chuckled at the young boy’s embarrassment as he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and settled into the hot water. The heat felt like heaven on his bruised ribs. He sighed in contentment and settled back against the slanted rim. Within minutes, Traven’s eyes started drooping. If he didn’t get up now, he would likely sleep in the tub.
“Hey, kid, get me a towel,” Traven ordered.
Traven saw the boy’s back stiffen in indignation at his command, but the boy looked left and right. The kid located a towel without turning to face the man in the tub. He threw the towel over his shoulder. If Traven had not caught it, it would have landed in the tub with him. Traven shook his head at the silly boy’s actions. He stood up and wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped, dripping, out of the tub. Traven rummaged through the pack and came up with a clean pair of Royal trousers. He pulled them on.
“Your turn,” Traven said as he gently laid his body across the bed, utterly exhausted. Traven laughed at the shocked expression on the boy’s face. It was the last thing he remembered before he slid into much needed slumber.
