Lyolis assumed they'd be alone, riding into Sundown City, just her, Zoar, their mounts, and the wind. Free at last from their duties. And free from the confinement of the estates, but she was sadly mistaken. Zoar's fear for Mitch wouldn't leave that simply.
They decided not to take the carriage, instead riding down the hill, winding like a snake, on the barebacks of their horses. The pioneers used their saddles and stirrups to keep them upright, while the Cyoakian used their legs and back; one had to have strong legs and a sturdy back to ride this way, and only Cyoakians had mastered it. Since young, Lyolis remembered being pulled up and down the mountain on a donkey, at first, only until she was strong and tall enough to mount a proper pony.
Lyolis rode close to Zoar while the two large, tan men, mounted on blacks, with builds thick as boulders and hair like black serpents, rode behind them. Their eyes ever watchful. Armed with tomahawks and bows while wearing their most protective, blunt faces.
Though she knew the answer Lyolis asked, "Why must we have company? The mounts and the night will protect us." She spoke lightly, not wanting to ruin the night.
"Droom and Brylax will keep their distance … You know they look to you like you are their own blood." He smiled. "And my mind will be at ease with them by your side."
"I have you by my side … the general of the Cyoakian armies. Are you not enough?" She joked.
Zoar sat tall, looking off towards the shadows that cloaked the road. "If only I were..." He mumbled. "That's why we need each other if we are to survive." He stroked his brown and white spotted mount. One he'd ridden into battle and had since he could ride. His closest friend, he once told her. "Though I've thought many a times of taken Moliek and riding off to a land far from eyes and distant from tales."
Lyolis tilted left, slightly kicking the horse, guiding her around the next bend. "And why have you stayed?"
Zoar sooke soft, "for you..."
Lyolis smiled warmly. Out of all the things he could've said, these were the words she expected least. And they brought beauty into her heart and love into her soul. A man willing to confess his love, and would die to protect his partner was a rare wonder, she knew. How have I grown so lucky? A thought she often wondered.
"Why do you mock me?" Lyolis teased. "You know I do not take kindly to flattery."
"Though your cheeks say otherwise." Zoar pointed out. "They blossomed like roses."
Lyolis giggled, kicking her horse into a light sprint. One she could manage around the turns without giving too much guidance and effort. Zoar pursued as she hoped he would, along with the two boulder-sized men, which she had prayed they wouldn't.
"Why must you ride so fast?" He asked. "You're not even sure of our destination."
Lyolis yelled above the wind, "our destination is the path we make for ourselves … we must carve our own, and not be bound by gates and borders."
Zoar bit his lip. His horse kept pace with his heart. "Then our own path we shall take!" He yanked Moliek towards the right, and they took to an trail swallowed in trees and grass. An unmarked trail, with many uncertain paths. Lyolis smirked and then pursued.
The pair had ridden together many times in the back woods behind totem, through trails beat down by horses; and when her people walked the woods to borrow from the forest, never taking too much, but only enough to provide for their Kingdom. Those trails she knew like the ones that marked her palms: the trail to the base of the falls that provided drink to her people; the trail to the springs that cleansed them near the mountain's peaks; there was even the sacred trail where the dead were buried and the forbidden trail where the witch doctors would go and ask what was needed from their ancestors. All trails she'd explored, even at the dismay of her parents.
But this new trail was as unknown as the City that kept it's secrets. Full of quick zigzags and branches that could dismount one if not focused. Zoar didn't ride to her comfort neither, whipping around the turns with ferocity, like he and Maliek were being chased by fire.
It took an hour for Lyolis to feel comfortable upon her new mare. She was used to the larger horses in Totem, but once she positioned herself low, holding tightly to the hairs that formed the horse crown, the two felt connected, moving as one around each bed, ducking beneath branches and hoping over logs that broke the trial.
Dirt kicked up behind the horses hooves, gliding right around a bend until the tail of Maliek whipped only a foot in front of her. I caught him! She thought, more determined than ever.
For a good thirty minutes she had rode alone through the woods, trying to get a handle on her horse while Zoar left her in his wake. But the mare was faster than Moliek, Lyolis only needed to gain her trust, which was quicker than she ever thought possible. Together they slowly gained ground while becoming one spirit, ready to take back the lead.
"You better rider faster than that!" She yelled though her words my have fallen lost to the wind.
The trees and woods around them had the lilac glow that cloaked the sky, while the wind brought a calm, soft fragrance. One she was all too familiar with though couldn't place where she'd smelt it.
They whipped around a final turn and the path widened, a stretch of open road to the finish. "Come, my friend," Lyolis said, "let's show them how wild at heart we are!" With that, the mares pace quickened, legs moving in a blur, driving alongside Maliek and Lyolis love rider.
Zoar looked at her determined not to give her an easy win. A competitor true to the end. The pair rode neck and neck, faster and faster the mounts took them. The lilac woods a painted blur on both sides of them, while the trail glowed like a velvet carpet.
The horse's panted. Lyolis leaned low, her chest nearly pressed against the beasts back. Her thick legs now screaming, squeezing tight while her crotch ached and lower back throbbed. Behind her, the wind yanked at her hair, pulling it towards the lilac sky, waving it fiercely.
"Now!" Lyolis yelled, "Nows our chance!"
Suddenly the mare gave one last burst of energy, leaving Zoar and Maliek chasing their tail until they reached the end of the trail. Lyolis and Zoar brought their mounts to a halt, in a vast valley full of purplish-blue flowers that produced the soft, calming fragrance. The two giggled, their horses trotting around one another beneath the lilac cloak.
"You've improved. And the mare ran so fast, for a moment I thought she had wings."
Lyolis giggled, running her hand against the beasts crown. "She is a special breed. And together we make a marvelous team."
The horse's halted their dance, and Lyolis looked upon a field of vibrant purple, making the lilac sky nearly appear black. It was beautiful. Not even a dream or her imagination could pastel the floral-based canvas. The spirited tones enhancing the golden speckles in her eyes.
Zoar lowered himself to the ground then walked to her steed. He held out his arms, and she hesitated before giving in, sliding off the beasts bareback and into his warm embrace. Lyolis trusted Zoar, so valiant and vigorous, swinging her around while the violet fields and lilac sky smeared into colors of a bitter wine and a sweet jam.
Her moccasins found the ground, legs surrounded by the lavender that blossomed from the earth, filling the air with a soft, sweet fragrance that, for a moment, made her forget where they were. Zoar's eyes turned down upon her. They'd found that gentle kindness in the field, sparkling like violet moons. His hand stroked her cheek, drawing his spirit and warmth into her, while they slowly leaned in.
Lyolis couldn't form a thought. She was already visualizing the kiss that drew near; their lips pressed together, warm and wet, while the wind spun around them, lavender petals twirling, drawing them closer while their hearts beat gently in her chest. That is what she imagined, and when their lips drew inches apart, her dream did not match her reality.
"Get as many as you can!" A harsh, violent voice tore into the magic. "The Mayor needs acres, you hear … acres!"
Lyolis and Zoar's heads bobbed, eyes opening. Where the noise came from was a mystery. The man who produced it hidden behind the sea of purple petals. Lyolis shook her head, trying to find the door that led back into her dream, but it had vanished.
"I know who that voice belongs to …" Zoar said, grabbing the reins to the horses and leading them to the trees where they were tethered down and out of sight. He crouched, moving towards her like a nervous cub. When he reached her, the blackness in his eyes had returned. And with a pull of her hand, drew her to the ground. "It is him … we must stay out of sight."
Lyolis legs screamed, the flesh torn by the once beautiful flowers while her knees reddened due to the roots bulging from the ground. She found the trail where they'd come, hoping her guardians, Droom and Brylax, would appear like Knights from the old pioneers tales she read.
"Follow me," Zoar demanded, "I must know what vile plans they're conjuring next." Positioned on his hands and toes, he crawled like a prowling panther, ready for the kill, disappearing into the violet posies.
Lyolis reached after him and whispered, "don't leave me!" Her fear of being alone drove her to follow, crawling like the days when her mother scolded her as a child. You're not a bear, my youngling. You're a princess, and as princess must stand strong, her mother said. Though she didn't feel strong. Only afraid of what lurks beyond the violet cloak.
The voices drew louder as they drew closer, violent chops and riled heckles hid their steps. At twenty paces away Zoar stopped, staying down, using the flowers as his shield and shadows. She followed him, able to see beyond the posies into a once flourishing valley, just beyond a hill, now a waste of black soil and veiny roots.
"I can't take this smell much longer … are we done?" Butch asked, derooting mounds of flowers and dumping them into a basket on his back. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers, with arms the size of logs. "The Mayor is a queer man."
A wild eyed man and pocked-faced woman raked pitchforks full of flowers into a wagon. The pile nearly spilling over.
One laughed feverishly, "I think it's about good…"
A younger boy, with a black hat and shirt, stood next to the scarred-faced man. Both with their own fields of black hairs planted across their bodies. Almost resembling apes. "Shut up and do as you're told," Mason said.
There's no doubt about it, they're kin. Lyolis thought. And the boy's as nasty as his father.
Butch ripped another patch, "Why does he need all of this shit anyway?"
Mitch said, "Isn't it obvious? To hide the wretched smell of the sick … If the townsfolk caught wind of what we're doing they wouldn't take too kindly to the Mayor, and it would foil his tournament."
"I knew it!" Zoar tried to stand but Lyolis held him tot. He glared at her hands. "Release me … This town is sick and we need to stop it from spreading."
Lyolis fear made her sound like her mother, "we are not certain what that means—"
Zoar yanked a stoned blade from his hip with free arm. "I must do now what I couldn't before."
"No," Lyolis said, tugging on his arm. "They will shoot you and do worse to me…"
Mitch waved a hand. "That is about enough," then climbed into the wagon, grabbing his rifle. Mason sat beside him grabbing the reins. "Hop in the back and let's get."
The others piled in, weighing down the flowers while the wagon shook and squealed and shriked beneath their weight.
Zoar pulled again, "I must go—"
Lyolis didn't know what came over her, all she knew is what she felt; her skin hot and beast blood boiling. She grabbed Zoar's cheeks, yanking his head with all her might then forced their lips to greet. It was not the wet and warm kiss she dreamed a moment ago. But a dry, rough-lipped smooch applied by two wild dogs.
Lyolis held firm against Zoar's tugs until he ripped his head away, shoving her back. Lyolis flopped into the flowers, twigs marking the flesh on her arms and legs. She cried out while Zoar stood, watching the wagon fade down the road. He glared down upon her, no longer the gentle prince she'd ridden in with, but a man drowned in the gloom of his anger.
He shouted, "Look what you did, you bitch!" Breathing heavy as a hog. "I'll just have to go at it alone …" He then looked beyond the fields, and stormed off, snapping posies beneath his moccasins.