Hunger

Part II - Chapter 32 - Absconded - Part 2

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A horse plunged recklessly through the underbrush, heedless of braches that viciously slapped at both rider and mount.  The hasty flight blazed a trail obvious enough for a blind man to find, yet all were sightless on a night such as this.  Both moons were obscured by ominous clouds, and a thick choking mist obfuscated any perception of direction.  It billowed up as if a wet fire smoldered beneath the surface of the earth, distorting and muffling the sounds of the night.

Jakim glanced over his shoulder squinting to see through the fog, searching for the patrol of soldiers he knew were back there, somewhere.  He attempted to suppress a shiver as droplets of the fog condensed on his cheeks and ran down his neck.  The effort made the world swim as the pain of the laceration in his side flashed with white-hot agony.  Jakim reined up, and his piebald tossed his head, eager to get the bit in his mouth and flee the unseen danger.  Jakim nearly lost his grip on the reigns as his mount shoved his head down and forward, tensing to make an attempt at unseating him.  Jakim beat back the waves of anguish that threatened his consciousness as he jerked savagely on the reigns, forcing the horse’s head up and thwarting his mount’s momentum.   

Jakim tried to slow his pounding heart and ignore the sticky warm sensation of blood oozing down his side and across his lap as he listened.  Nothing.  Nothing except for the faint drip…drip…drip of his blood splashing on the ground.  Jakim heaved a minute sigh of relief and winced.  He searched in vain as he tried to get his bearings. How long had he been on the run?  Time passed strangely when adrenaline flowed.  What was hardly a quarter turn of the glass could easily seem to be eight times that when one’s life was on the line.  He cursed savagely under his breath—there was no time for him to be lost!  Let alone for Gethin and Heika to be wandering around with soldiers hot on their trail.  They were his responsibility!  And now circumstance had forced him to choose between the right thing to do, and the necessary thing to do. 

Jakim beat his fist against the pommel of his saddle in frustration, wincing again as his mount shied and the motion jarred his wound.  Of all the inns, in all of the townships and cities—in all of the vast reaches of Qyra, no less—a band of the Chancellor’s army had decided to afflict their presence upon the very same in which he had selected to spend the night.

Things had gone according to plan.  The trio entered Sinnoch inconspicuously on the heels of a party of farmers hauling in the last of their harvest, and secured rooms in an out of the way inn—or so Jakim had thought.  Due to the early onset of winter, or so the scuttlebutt went, in some portions of Qyra, their goods were eagerly accepted and Jakim was well pleased with the results—except for the revelation that winter was setting in far earlier than he had imagined.   It meant he had even less time than he thought to safely traverse the pass that guarded and sequestered Inna, and made him want to forgo the plan and rush back to the remaining Gentlemen and pound a trail toward Inna as if his hair were on fire. 

This thought was heavy on his mind as he regrouped with Gethin and Heika in the common room of the tavern for the evening meal.  At a small, worn yet sturdy table in the corner, Heika and Gethin related similarly successful trades.  A shy serving maid set steaming bowls of a thick gruel all around, and hovered just a bit longer than necessary, trying to draw Jakim’s eye.  Her mousy brown hair was tucked up under a plain cap, yet delicate curls had escaped and framed her face.  She was not unbecoming, yet the blush that blossomed upon her cheeks as she set the bowl in front of Jakim, transformed her features like a blossoming flower.

Jakim was tempted to flash her a wolfish grin and see if that blush would deepen.  Instead, he murmured his thanks and ignored the girl’s lingering presence.

It was just then, the door burst open.  The room fell silent as an ominous figure darkened the threshold, and Jakim’s instincts had his blade half way out of its sheath.  He was nearly to his feet before Gethin’s grip on his forearm stilled him.