Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

“You’ve got it.” She smiled, then stopped and frowned.

  Ben walked ahead before realizing she had stopped. He turned to wait. “Amelie, even if they can’t track us, we really should keep moving.”

  She’d gone pale and was barely breathing.

  “Amelie, are you okay?” asked Ben.

  “Ben,” she whispered, “Mistress Eldred had my blood.”

  “Your blood!” he exclaimed.

  “For our training on healing, we extracted some of our blood. The mages preserved it. We studied the different properties individuals had and how to screen for disease. Mistress Eldred kept samples for further training. It’s preserved. It’s fresh…” Amelie trailed off.

  The somber pair kept moving and quickly covered ground over the rocky terrain. They didn’t know if Mistress Eldred even survived the confrontation in the Sanctuary. If she did survive, did she know how to use that blood to track them? Amelie had never heard of it being done, but if someone at the Sanctuary did have the skill, it would be Eldred.

  Her role at the Sanctuary was the head of the laboratory, which was the half glass building Ben and Amelie fled through on the night of the escape. The laboratory was where many of the early initiate classes were held, but also where advanced research took place. Knowledge was critical to performing magic, so the initiates went to the lab to learn the fundamentals of science. Experienced mages ran experiments there to uncover new ways of manipulating the physical world. Mistress Eldred, as head of the facility, was familiar with all of the experiments. If someone developed a way to use blood to track a person, she would know of it.

  “Do you think she survived?” asked Ben. “What was that stuff you hit her with anyway? It looked like her face was melting or something.” He cringed at the memory.

  Amelie shrugged. “I don’t know what it was. I just saw the beaker and thought it looked heavy enough to do some damage. Whatever was in there though, I’m glad it didn’t get on me.”

  “Shouldn’t they store that kind of thing somewhere safe?”

  Amelie laughed. “Apparently they didn’t imagine anyone would want to break in. The whole building is full of stuff like that. They spend almost the entire first week telling us how we could get killed in the lab or the other training buildings.”

  “Mages are crazy,” sputtered Ben.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” quipped Amelie.

  That evening, they stopped early. Traveling hard to gain distance made sense, but if someone could track them, there was no sense pushing to their limits. If they could be tracked, they needed to be alert and prepared to fight.

  They began sword practice again but avoided sparring. They only had real blades and didn’t trust that they wouldn’t injure each other. Instead, they focused on footing, grips, and some basic forms. Amelie’s rapier had a guarded hilt, which was different from the practice swords she used in the City. It was awkward at first, but she quickly realized the benefit of the new weapon over the saber she was carrying. The rapier was light and fast, ideal for her natural speed. She became determined to adjust.

  Ben also showed her some thrusting attacks she had not learned yet. The rapier would be next to worthless as a slashing weapon. Many of the forms she learned with Saala would have to be discarded.

  After two bells, they settled down and laid out what remaining food they had on top of their packs. It wasn’t much.

  “We should hunt and forage again,” proposed Ben.

  “I think we have enough for another two days if we’re careful,” replied Amelie. “Maybe we should go a little longer before stopping. You’re right, we can’t risk running out of food, but I’d be more comfortable if we get a little further from where we were attacked.”

  “Fair enough,” agreed Ben. He picked up a few items from the food pile. “How does tough jerky and hard biscuit sound for dinner? It’s highly recommended. At least, compared to the dry beans and rice. Without a fire to boil water and cook them, I’d prefer to save those for later.”

  Amelie rolled her eyes at him. “The food on this trip isn’t nearly the quality I’ve come to expect on the road,” she joked.

  Ben uncorked his water skin and took a drink to wash down a dry bite of biscuit. He eyed the water skin. “One thing I miss is all of the drinks Rhys brought along. I like water as much as the next guy, but right now, I’d kill for an ale or skin of wine.”

  ***

  Two days later, they started downhill and into the forest around the base of the mountain range. They were looking for a suitable spot to stop and forage for food. Ben hoped they would find a nice stream to fish and find trails where animals came to drink. They were far enough away from where the hunter attacked that he was willing to risk a campfire if he had something to cook over it.

  As they moved deeper into the woods, dappled light played on the floor of the forest. High above them, the leaves rustled in a light breeze. Ben noted that amongst the bright green were splashes of yellow and orange. The season was changing. Soon, these woods would be a riot of color.

  He steered them into a hollow between two ridgelines. He hoped to find a stream trickling its way down from the mountain heights. In addition to food, they needed fresh water.

  Just as he suspected, at the base of a shallow ravine was a small stream, maybe three strides across—not large enough for fish, but a sufficient source of drinking water. Hopefully the local rabbits and deer used it as well.

  “How are you going to take down a deer?” asked Amelie skeptically. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you are a master huntsman, in addition to being a master brewer, but you don’t exactly have the right tools for the job.”

  “I’ll make a spear,” answered Ben more confidently than he felt. “If we find a fresh game trail, I can make a spear out of a straight, solid branch. I’ll hide close to the water until the deer gets near. If it’s close enough, I can spear it. Back in Farview, people talked about it all of the time.”

  He didn’t mention that talk was always at the Buckhorn Tavern and after a few pints of ale.

  Amelie bent down to the stream and dunked her water skin beneath the surface. “If you say so.”

  Ben also moved to fill his skin then stopped and stood.

  “Do you smell that?” he asked.

  She also stood and looked around. “I didn’t until you mentioned it. Is that smoke?”

  They both peered around the creek bed but there was nothing to see.

  Ben stooped back down and filled his skin, thinking.

  “It is smoke,” he affirmed. “This ravine could be acting as a chimney and is pulling it up. We may be nowhere near the source.”

  “So, should we keep moving?” asked Amelie.

  “I don’t think so,” reflected Ben. “That smoke may be someone after us or it may have nothing to do with us at all. If it’s someone after us, we need to find out who they are and understand how we can avoid them. If it has nothing to do with us, then it won’t hurt to find out for sure. Either way, we benefit from knowing who else is out here.”

  Amelie hesitated. “What if it is someone who is after us and they catch us?”

  Ben shrugged. “Let’s not get caught.”

  They stalked quietly through the forest and Ben was grateful it was not yet autumn. There were few leaves on the ground to crunch and give them away. They followed the stream down the ravine, working on Ben’s theory that it was acting as a chimney and the source of the smoke would be somewhere below.

  The further downhill they got, the stronger the smell.

  “It makes sense they would camp near the water,” he whispered to Amelie.

  She nodded in response.

  Ben had spent years hunting game around Farview with his friend Serrot, so he was comfortable moving silently, but Amelie was not. She tried to follow in Ben’s footsteps and winced every time she stepped on a fallen branch or inadvertently brushed against low-hanging foliage.

  Ben glanced back at her and smiled encouragement. He ho
ped the trickle of water over rocks in the stream would mask any sounds they made.

  Near the bottom of the ravine, the ridgeline tapered off, and the smoke smell grew stronger. Ben frowned. They were not smelling a temporary campsite. This was a serious encampment, or possibly a small village.

  Again, he looked back at Amelie and saw her raise her eyebrows questioningly. She was no outdoorswoman, but even she could tell there were likely more people ahead than they wanted to fight.

  “A little further,” whispered Ben.

  Together, they moved past the end of the ridgeline and saw another narrow creek meeting the one they had been following. They walked until they were on the end of the spit of land between the two creeks. They looked downstream but could see nothing.

  Thick trees and undergrowth around the water obscured anything further than thirty paces away. Ben was certain the source of the smoke was nearby. Like he had speculated, it seemed to be located near the stream.

  A distant clang of metal on metal jolted both of them. It continued at a regular interval.

  “Men at arms training?” whispered Amelie nervously.

  “No,” answered Ben, listening closely. He smiled. “That’s a blacksmith.”

  Once he identified it, it was clear. Ben could almost picture the blacksmith’s hammer coming down over and over again.

  “What do we do?” she asked in a low tone. “If it’s a blacksmith with a forge, it can’t be anything related to us.”

  Ben nodded. “I think you’re right. Let’s head back up the other creek and find a place to cross. We can keep going north. Whoever is down there, they are not interested in us.”

  One hundred paces upstream, they saw a small foot bridge connecting the two banks.

  They looked at each other then back at the bridge.

  “Let’s cross,” Ben suggested. “That’s easier than finding a shallow point somewhere else, right?”

  On close inspection, the bridge was solidly built but with crude tools. The walkway was made of split logs instead of milled planks and the handrails were affixed with wooden pegs instead of nails. Despite that, it didn’t shake or even move when Ben stepped onto it.

  Amelie followed quickly behind. She tried to shake the handrail but it didn’t budge. Next, she hopped up and down, causing thumping sounds through the pleasantly solid logs. She grinned at Ben then they started walking across.

  “Myland!” called a firm voice. “Is that you?”

  Ben and Amelie froze. They were paused halfway across the bridge, trying to determine which way the voice came from.

  “Aye,” answered a call from behind. “Come help me. I’ve got your dinner!”

  Panicked eyes met. Ben and Amelie started forward but stopped short at the foot of the bridge when a man stepped into view. He appeared almost as shocked as they did.

  “Ho now,” he blurted. “You don’t look like Myland.”

  The man stood a good hand taller than Ben. He was dressed in a rough tunic and britches and carried a huge longbow. He had a hunting knife on his belt and a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder. He was otherwise unarmed.

  “I’m, uh, I’m not Myland,” replied Ben.

  “I think he knows that.” A man behind them laughed.

  Myland, as the newcomer must be, was a shorter, stouter version of the first man. He was a hand shorter than Ben but made up for it with a bulky frame. It wasn’t fat though, as evidenced by the deer slung over his shoulder. He balanced it with one hand and clutched a longbow similar to the first man’s.

  The newcomer continued, “Since we’ve established that your name is not, in fact, Myland, would you be so kind as to share it?”

  “Ben.” Ben cursed himself for not thinking to give a fake name. “And this is my friend Meghan.”

  “Well, pleased to meet you, Ben and Meghan. Now, if you’d care to take a step off the bridge, I’d like to keep moving. This deer weighs at least five stone and I’m ready to put the damn thing down.”

  Ben and Amelie sheepishly stepped off the bridge and Myland strode confidently across with the deer hanging over his shoulder.

  “You folks are obviously not from around here,” stated the woodsman. “You in a hurry or do you have time to stop over for the night? My friends and I don’t get to hear a lot of news from the rest of the world. We’re always willing to share a bite to eat and a few drinks for an update on what is happening.”

  Ben and Amelie looked at each other nervously.

  The man sighed. “We don’t much care what you’re running from. Most of us in Free State, we’ve been on the run before, too. As long as you don’t have a dispute with one of us, which I highly doubt you do, then you are welcome around our fire.”

  The man started off again then turned back to them. “You look like you need a rest. Come on!”

  Free State turned out to be a humble village with about forty log and mud structures. It was set on the bank of the stream they’d been following and it was filled with people moving about their daily tasks.

  A gaggle of small, yelling children came running up when the party walked into the village. The children swarmed around them, which drew a smile from Amelie, but Myland shooed them off.

  He glanced apologetically at Ben and Amelie and explained, “They don’t see outsiders very often.”

  He turned to his companion and instructed, “Athor, tell everyone we’ll have a gathering at the common house this evening. I’m sure they’ll all want to hear any news.”

  The man nodded and headed to one of the low buildings where a woman poked her head out to see what the commotion was.

  “You two can come with me to my house,” Myland offered to Ben and Amelie. “Later, everyone will want to hear all about whatever you can tell us. First, I suggest you rest.”

  Myland’s house was fashioned of rough logs and mud like the rest of the village. He dropped his deer on the ground near the back then they went inside. The low ceiling barely cleared Ben’s head.

  “Sorry about that.” The man grinned. He patted his own lower-to-the-ground head and chuckled. “Plenty of room for me.”

  “Thank you for offering to put us up,” said Ben. “Is there anything we can do for you? We don’t have much in the way of coin.”

  Myland shook his head. “It’s my pleasure.”

  The man rushed about, tidying up. After a minute, he added, “Honestly, I talk to the same folks around here every day. A man gets tired of it. It’s worth sharing this hut for a night to get some fresh conversation.”

  Ben nodded and looked around the small structure.

  It was split into a kitchen and sitting area in one room and a separate bedroom in another. Myland gestured toward the bedroom and suggested, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight if you two want to share the bed. You are together, right?”

  Amelie blushed.

  Ben started to answer but she interrupted him. “Yes, we can share the bed.”

  Ben looked at her. Her eyes darted toward the window carved in the back of the bedroom wall. The only opening in the main room was the door. If something happened and they needed to escape, that window would be a useful exit. Ben nodded to her in understanding.

  They deposited their packs in the bedroom while Myland filled a pair of large buckets from the stream. He dumped one of them into a washbasin.

  “You look like you’ve been traveling hard,” he remarked. “Feel free to wash up and change. If you need any medicine or first aid, we have some people who could make do.” Myland glanced at Ben’s bound arm and torn shirt but didn’t comment further.

  “I’ve got to go settle a dispute. It’s about a goat.” Myland sighed. Shaking his head, he continued, “Some people… Anyway, I should be back in half a bell. We’ll head to the gathering at twilight, if you’re still up for it.”

  Ben smiled at him and the man left.

  “Do you think we can trust them?” asked Amelie before walking over to the washbasin.

  “Maybe,” replied
Ben. “They’re too far away from any roads or real towns to be bandits, and we don’t have anything worth stealing anyway. I doubt they have ties to the Sanctuary. Could be they would turn us in for a bounty, but we’re going to have to take that risk sooner or later. When we get to Kirksbane, it will be a bigger problem than here I think.”

  Amelie agreed. “You’re probably right.”

  She then paused before the washbasin and looked back at Ben coyly. “Don’t get any ideas just because we’re sharing a bed tonight, Master Ashwood, and whether in the woods or her manor house, a lady prefers to bathe privately.”

  He blushed and stepped outside of the small hut.

  Life in the village was going on just like it was before they arrived. It was rougher, but it reminded him of Farview. Aside from a few long, curious glances at him, men and women went about the same domestic tasks they did back home. Children played amongst the buildings and a few chickens pecked fruitlessly nearby.

  A young man with a nasty scar across the left half of his face and one missing eye stopped by Ben. “Stranger, you’ll be at the gathering tonight?” he inquired.

  Ben nodded.

  The man walked on, calling behind him, “The name is Bartholomew. I’ll see you there.”

  The man had the light gait and wariness of someone used to combat, but Ben didn’t sense any threat from him.

  On further observation of the village, Ben decided they could trust these people. He saw plenty of curiosity in the faces around him, but no one seemed to be hiding anything.

  Before long, Amelie poked her head out of the door and told him he could wash and change now.

  Ben ducked inside and saw she’d laid out a change of clothes for him, his only one.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I had to go through both packs to find everything I needed. I figured you would want to change too.” She was wearing a different outfit and looked like she had been bathed and dressed by her handmaids. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders and her cheeks had a rosy glow.

  He looked down at the washbasin then back at her.

  “Um, are you going to give me some privacy?” he asked.

  “I’m not going to go wandering around outside by myself, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” she responded curtly. “You say we can trust these people but we don’t really know.”