The Fanged Throne

Chapter 6

Virion stood before his commander, shoulders straight and head up. The man looked displeased at Virion. "Let me understand this again, you let an unarmed 16-year-old girl get away?" The veins along his forehead pulsated. Virion held the commander's gaze. "Yes sir, I'll find her, she can't have gotten very far." The commander snorted. "You're right, you will find her and you will get rid of her. We can't have her running around letting people know the kingdom had an innocent child imprisoned." He gave Virion a hard look. "This is your mess Virion, clean it up... or you might find that the King isn't so forgiving as I am."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Elora's legs were dead tired by the time she had made it to the edge of the town. She couldn't slow down, as much as she wanted to, she had to keep moving, Virion's words echoing in her head. He had to know she was out here; it was just a matter of time. The houses behind her had gotten smaller as she followed a small dirt road through the woods. She hadn't been walking for much longer when she came upon a single wooden post. The post pointed to a small village about a day's journey ahead, the narrow mud path weaved ahead through the woods. Elora glanced around the area to make sure she wasn't followed, although she knew Virion could not be too far behind her. As she walked through the dense woods, she made sure to stay hidden, walking alongside the path, using the thick trees to conceal herself from anyone who might be looking for her.

When night had fallen her legs felt like heavyweights, dragging her down. Elora sat down heavily on the damp ground with a loud huff, the cold seeped through her thin pants. She sat huddled on the ground, her knees resting against her chest and her side had begun to hurt. Her fingers, again, had found themselves twirling the gold coin, weaving in and out of her fingers. Elora's mind had yet to process what had happened at the market that day. She had felt the snake, felt the cold scales against her hand as she had grabbed it. She could see the black eyes watching her, waiting to see what she would do. Her stomach twisted into a knot as she thought about the snake and her dream, she knew something wasn't right. But what? Her mind grew tired and eyes heavy as she lay there amongst the trees, sleep was settling in.

The next morning Elora woke with a jolt. Her knees were tucked under her chin, her arms had wrapped around her chest, huddled for warmth. A light dusting of snow had fallen that night, the branches of a tree above her had shielded her from the brunt of it. Her feet felt stiff and cold in her soaked slippers, the bottoms dark and wet with mud. Her thin woollen coat was damp and stuck to her small frame no longer keeping her warm. Ignoring her shivering, she pushed herself up and began her walk to the village, hiding amongst the trees. Her mind had begun to imagine what the village would look like, what the people would be wearing. Trying to distract herself from the biting cold, she lost herself deep within her thoughts.

It took her a few moments to notice the sharp pain that now coursed through her body and jolted her spine. What the ... Bowing her head, her eyes studied her shirt that had begun turning a deep red. Grimacing she lifted her shirt to reveal a deep angry gash from where the soldier's sword had caught her. The skin had pulled away at the wound, leaving a gaping hole, the dark blood was trickling slowly down her hips. All the running she had done yesterday had opened the wound, splitting it wider. She needed to treat it before it begins to get infected. The many hours Elora spent in the prison library had their uses. She had spent hours pouring over books on ancient herbal medicine, the aged pages were covered in black and white drawings of different plants, their names translated for her by the bookkeeper. With one hand pressed tight against her bloody side, she slowly walked, scanning the foliage for distinctive dark leaves.

It did not take long to find the plant, Wirenth was full of Bolean Pokroot, it grew well in the hard, frozen ground. The thick leaves were filled with a dark substance that stank horrifically; the leaves were often mixed with crushed flower fragrances to mask the offending smell. Having no time to look for fragrant flowers, Elora fingered the leaves, feeling the soft liquid inside, she would have to apply it straight on. Her eyes burned as she broke open the leaf, the salve was thick and brown. Taking a shaky breath, she used her fingers to smear the thick salve onto her wound, hissing as it burned upon contact. The salve sat stark against her pale flesh, smothering the throbbing angry wound. Tearing off a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt, Elora wrapped the fabric around her ribs, pressing tight against the wound. The pain had begun to subside to a dull throb, much better...

By noon the sun had started to peak through the thick snow clouds, offering a sliver of warmth in the freezing woods. Elora had begun to notice that the path had widened into a road, still wet and muddy. She had also noticed more and more people walking along the road. Their shoulders were hunched against the cold wind, their clothes ratty and torn. The men carried brown sacks over their shoulders, a man wrestled with a chicken in his arms. Farmers.

Through the trees, Elora could see the small wooden buildings dotted around the hills. She could smell the smoke; she was getting close. An old rickety wooden sign was hammered into a nearby tree alongside the road, Welcome, Sampson Hollow. Keeping her head ducked low, she joined the other stragglers on the road, pleased when not one person seemed to notice her slip from out of the trees. Unlike Wirenth, this little village had one muddy road that ran through the centre. A few depleted buildings sat haphazardly, their rooves sloped. The people in Sampson Hollow were much like their buildings, old and decrepit. As she walked further into the village, she could feel the eyes of some of the residents, watching her curiously. It wasn't often that they had people travelling through. Sampson Hollow was the last stop in the Northern realm, from then on only a few travelled. Elora still wasn't sure where she was going, all she knew fr sure was that she had to keep moving. She needed to get as far away from Wirenth and Virion as she could.

Her stomach had started to grumble loudly under her shirt, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since two nights ago. The only thing she had was water from the river that ran through the woods. Ahead she saw a large table piled high with fruits and vegetables, an old fat woman sat behind the food. Her mouth was turned downwards with a scowl on her face. Elora's mouth had started to water as she eyed the fruit on the table. Her feet slowly inched closer, fingers twitching as she imagined biting into the green apple. She stood a few feet away from the table, watching the old women. A couple of people went up and bought some produce, some paid with coin and others traded. One of the men at the table asked her something, gesturing behind her. The old woman scowled and turned around to shout something into the building behind her.

Elora's heart pounded as she watched the old woman shouting with her back turned, at the man inside the building. Shifting on her feet, she stretched her hand out, her fingertips were just inches away from the apple. "It looks like that one's bruised." She gave a startled yelp at the voice that had whispered in her ear, her hand knocked the apple, accidentally sending the whole pile tumbling down, rolling around the filthy ground. Twisting herself around she noticed the boy who stood grinning at her, his white teeth were illuminated against his dark skin. A leather satchel was slung over his shoulder, his thick cloak covered his tall frame. The old woman was angry and the people standing around the table looked at Elora accusingly, guiltily she flashed the woman a sheepish smile before dashing off down the road, yelling a quick. "sorry!" Over her shoulder at the frothing seller.

She ran until she was sure no one had followed her, before collapsing against the wall of an abandoned barn. Her chest heaved up and down as she sat there catching her breath. Her side had started to hurt again, the Bolean Pokroot had worn off. Elora sucked in a breath and lifted her shirt, pulling the fabric away to look at the wound.

"Ouch, that's not looking too good, is it?" Elora whipped her head up to see the boy again, leaning against a tree watching her. Flustered, she yanked her shirt back down, glaring at him. "You! Why are you following me?" She demanded. He grinned at her again, his eyes flashed mischievously. "Following you? Why no, I just happened to be walking through here and thought this would be a good place to rest", his grin widened, "perhaps it is you who is following me?" He crossed his arms across his chest, pensive, as if in thought. "I thought I might also make mention that the angry herd of farmers you seemed to have pissed off are making their way up the road." He said nonchalantly. With his head lowered his dark eyes studied her, not giving away any emotion. Elora scowled at him, still annoyed about earlier.

With an exaggerated groan, he pushed himself off the tree. "Well, this has been nice." He straightened his thick coat, standing up straight and looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm starving...You coming?"