Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 29 - OUT OF THE VALLEY

  "Wake up you dangerous criminal," Ezrael's voice cooed beside the bars of Hal's cage, much too singsongy and chipper for the older man's liking. He cracked his eyes open to see the strange young nobleman standing just outside the bars, crouched over with his head tilted sideways to place it level with Hal's face. He sat up and back quickly, feeling Ezrael's face was entirely too close to his own.

  "Oh good, you're back," he said sourly, "I was hoping you would stay gone after you left me alone yesterday." He leaned his head back against the cold bars of the cage away from his guest, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

  "You don't deserve that large of a wish to come true for you," Ezrael smiled broadly, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable he was making Hal. "The resistance marches to war today. You and I are about to be joined at the hip for the entirety of this journey."

  "You are a sick man," Hal grumbled. "I thought you were odd yet friendly, but you enjoy torturing me. You are getting a real kick from this aren't you?"

  "Are you not the infamous Halvor Heartwick? I thought there was nothing in the world that would bother you," Ezrael taunted, grinning at Hal's accusation.

"No one calls me Halvor except for my sainted mother, and she has not been on this mortal plane for many years now," Hal said ignoring the jibe. He decided it was much better when people were too scared around him to speak in coherent sentences. What was wrong with this young man? He sighed to himself, it would be on him to bring professionalism to this conversation, it was not becoming to argue with Ezrael like children. He calmed his voice to its usual bored droll. "Where is the resistance off to? What is our first strike?"

"We are making our way to Shaleport," Ezrael said, there was no point in keeping the destination from him now that the two of them would be together for the entire trip. There would be no way for Hal to contact any of his outside sources in secret. "The front of our ranks have already begun marching. As you can imagine they would prefer as little of the men to see you as possible so you will be joining the rear with the dukes." He pulled a thick key from his pocket, unlocking the door to the cage with a heavy clank of metal before pulling the door open with its old hinges squeaking and groaning in protest. Hal stood from his bed, stretching his legs exaggeratedly before breathing deeply and loudly.

"Smells like freedom," He said as he strode out of his prison and passed Ezrael, patting him heartily on the shoulder.

Ezrael rolled his eyes at his charge's theatrics, "You have been allowed out of your cell before now, it is not like you have been down here the whole time."

"But this time I get to leave this horrible manor," Hal said, pausing for Ezrael to open the door that led out of the dungeon. Taking long strides he swiftly made his way through the hallway of cells, pulling the door on the opposite side of the room open and taking the stairs two at a time.

"This 'horrible manor' belongs to my uncle," Ezrael protested, hurrying after Hal so that the master criminal could not get too far ahead. "Slow down, you have to stay within my sight."

Hal froze in place, turning to face his assigned guardian, "You are entirely suffocating you know that?" he asked looking visibly frustrated, but he waited as he was told. Ezrael pushed past him, leading the way up the stairs to an almost entirely abandoned bottom floor of the manor. Only the day before it had been a bustling hive of activity as soldiers and servants ran from room to room carrying all manner of orders, maps, food, weapons, and supplies. Now only a skeleton staff remained, just enough to keep the building prepared for the Benjamin family to return at any moment.

  Two large, beautiful horses stood waiting for them outside the front doors, hitched at the bottom of the wide marble stairs. Ezrael helped Hal climb atop a pure, black steed, balancing the master criminal so he would not fall, his hands, remaining bound at the wrist, making it difficult to mount the horse on his own. Hal reached forward carefully, petting the onyx horse's neck as he wrapped the reigns between his fingers so he would not drop them.