A Fugitive's Kiss

by Jaime Clevenger

  Darin kept to her spot, hearing another group not far behind the first. She’d hoped to have a bit of trail alone, but by the wear on it, she knew this section of the forest path was well traveled. She kept to her hiding spot until she hadn’t heard or caught the scent of any other travelers for some time.

  The path crossed the main road twice before diving deep into a wooded canyon. She washed her hands and boots in every stream she passed, an old hunting habit that she couldn’t break, and kept her nose trained to the wind. Only when she came to a large lake, clearly the favored fishing spot by the number of docks ringing it, did she slow her speed. The lake had a good view of the western mountains and the spot seemed to contain every color, deep purple flowers dotting the bright green grass at the lake’s edge, a grove of aspen trees shifting from green to yellow to orange in a dizzying array of leaves and the crystal blue stretch of water. The wind picked up triangles of white along the water’s surface, and the aspen trees made a rustling whisper. As beautiful as it was, she couldn’t stay. The sun had started its descent behind the mountains and fishermen would be back soon for the dusk catch. With a resigned sigh, she pushed on around the path’s bend and left the peace of the water.

  The path climbed steadily and the trees thickened around her. Here the scent of predators was thick; she picked out fox, owl, and even bear. Rabbits popped up on the path along with deer, each paying her little attention. She stopped for a bite of dried fruit and took off her boots to check on a blister she’d felt forming. The blistered skin bled and she ignored the sick feeling in her stomach as she swiped at the blood. If someone was tracking her, blood would carry her scent further on the wind than her sweat. She pulled out Aysha’s wool blanket and tore off a bit of the edge to fashion a bandage for her toe. With the bleeding stopped, she shoved on her boot, took a sip from her flask and trudged on.

  “Hold up there.”

  The voice caught her off guard. She spun around and caught her breath at the sight of a pale, rugged face. He had the smell of a hunter but with all the other predators in the forest, she’d missed his scent. By the look of him, tall and lean, he could easily out run her.

  “Mind sharing that flask?” he said, catching his breath.

  Darin kept her free hand on her hidden knife as she reached under her cloak for the water flask. She passed him the flask without speaking.

  “Headed to the mountains…” He took a sip from her flask and handed it back. “It’s a bit of a climb, isn’t it? I left my flask down at Miller’s Lake but couldn’t turn back. So, I’ve been sipping from every stream, but we haven’t crossed one in a bit, now have we?”

  Darin’s skin crawled with the sudden realization that this man had been on her trail for hours. If Alekander had paid him to track her down, he’d likely warned him to disguise his own scent. She saw the bear skin wrapped at his wrists and the fur scraps tied on his boots. His hands were likely smudged with bear droppings. He’d used a child’s trick to deceive her sense.

  How many others were searching for her? Alekander could have sent hunters in every direction. Her grip on the knife tightened. “How much is he paying you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll pay you more. Turn around and pretend you never saw me. I have ten gold coins in my satchel and I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden the rest.”

  “I’ll have the flask again.” The man waited for her to hand back the flask. He took a long sip this time and then leveled his gaze. “It isn’t money he’s giving me.”

  Spotting a knife strapped at his hip, Darin wondered if his knife skills were as adept as his tracking techniques. If she could get in the first thrust, she might have him. If she didn’t manage to land a deadly strike, she could at least slow him down enough that she could make an escape.

  He pocketed Darin’s flask. “I’m buying my freedom when I bring you back.”

  “Make it to the mountains and you’re a free man. Why not take my money and never go back?”

  “Wouldn’t that be easy? Have you never met Alekander?” The man laughed, a hard cough of a laugh that had nothing but anger in it. “He has my son. He had us both locked away but released me only to hunt you down. He’s promised our freedoms if I bring you back on a leash. Alive or dead. But now that I’ve had a chance to get a good look at you, I’d rather not drag your body. You’re too tall. Must be from the Alds?”

  Darin didn’t answer his question. “Alive or dead” spun round in her head. She’d planned on dying, but she’d wanted to wound Alekander in the process. Dying at the hands of a mercenary would be meaningless. The longer she stared at the man, the more hollow she felt. Resignation argued with fear; she could hardly swallow, let alone move. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “And what makes you think he will release your son, or you, when you return? Do you trust Alekander that much?”

  The man sneered. “What is trust with Alekander?”

  “Alekander’s east, heading to the ocean. He’ll wait for me there. Why not go back now and take your son? You could both escape while he’s away.”

  “He has men planted everywhere. Waiting for you—and me if I come back empty-handed. I was tipped off by someone who followed you from the Glenlands. There’s no escaping Alekander. You should know that.”

  Darin lashed out with her knife, slicing the man’s neck. He slapped one palm against the cut, which was spurting blood, and grabbed his knife with his other hand. Blood sprayed in an arc with his every movement. She parried his first strike, but his second grazed her cheek. She had to end it. At his next sweep, she aimed for his chest. Her knife lodged between his ribs, and he cried out with the sound of a stricken animal. Yanking her knife out, she kicked at his knee. He lunged for her as he fell, encircling her right leg with his hands. She stomped down hard on his wrist, and he rolled on the ground, his mouth gaping soundlessly.

  Darin stepped back, shaking. The stranger at her feet hadn’t wanted to kill her. It was only a job he’d been sent on and he had no choice. She felt nauseous, wishing he’d taken her offer for gold. He coughed and blood frothed at his mouth. When his body began to twitch like that of a rabbit in a snare, she took off at a dead run, leaving the path far behind.

  She felt more than saw her route through the dense forest, her feet stumbling over exposed roots and ankle-deep drifts of pine needles, and it was some time before her nerves had quieted enough to let her slow her pace. Finally she stopped at a stream. She looked back at the trees she’d weaved through and realized she had no idea how to get back to the path.

  Crouching down to the water, she rinsed her wounds and took a long drink. She cursed herself for bolting. The man had kept her flask. And not knowing if she’d given him a release from this world would torture her sleep. From his twitching, death had been near, but she’d not waited around to see his last breath. As a hunter, she’d always shown mercy to every kill. But gone was any allegiance she’d once had to the rules of a hunt. She was alive because she hadn’t followed the rules. Her knife was supposed to be visible in a sheath, either at the hip or the calf. The hunter had kept his eye on the knife strapped at her calf. He hadn’t seen the other one tucked under her belt strap and concealed by her cloak. Only criminals hid their weapons. But she had no reputation to uphold now.

  Her thoughts swirled round. Images of the hunter coughing up blood alternated with images of Alekander and then of her grandmother. She hadn’t thought of her in months. She still longed for her understanding even though she was long gone.

  But she knew her grandmother wouldn’t understand. By the rules of the elite, what she had done was murder. In every hunt she’d gone on, she’d always kept to the rules. Now with one stab, she’d given up her status as an elite.

  The distinction of being an elite had never meant much to her before, but it had meant the world to her grandmother. Elites, those individuals who displayed or carried, and therefore might pass on, heightened senses, were small in number. Their high status brought favors from
the king and the queen as well as from commoners. And their right to this wasn’t questioned—so long as they followed the rules. But if they broke one of the rules, they were considered the worst of the criminal class.

  She’d been born to the elite world. All of her family had been elites—her mother in service to the queen and her father in service to the king. Their parents were elites as well. And as far back as she knew, no one had ever dropped to the criminal class. But it was too late to worry about anyone’s judgment.

  She wouldn’t miss being an elite, she decided. A fugitive criminal was no worse than a fugitive elite, she reasoned. Without a king or queen, what difference did the terminology make? There were no privileges here.

  Her grandmother had considered it a great gift that Darin had such heightened senses, well beyond the usual strong sense that was passed from mother to child and well beyond hers even. Darin closed her eyes, pushing away her grandmother’s disapproving face, and tried to gather her thoughts. She hadn’t recognized the man she’d stabbed. That had made it easier to strike first. She shivered and rubbed at a painful cramp in her shoulder, trying to work the fear out of her exhausted body.

  Not far from the stream, she found a spot to spread Aysha’s blanket. She hunched down, still shaking, and forced a bit of bread into her mouth. When blood welled from the wound on her cheek when she tried to chew and she had trouble swallowing, she gave up on eating and tried to rest.

  The blanket was thick with Aysha’s scent. The man she’d killed hadn’t tracked her alone—and as he’d said, Alekander had men planted everywhere looking for her. Someone could be searching Aysha’s barn now and if her trail was discovered, Alekander would know about it soon enough. She had to find the other hunters. She couldn’t think of what Alekander would do to Aysha if he realized she’d helped her.

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t take long in Glen Briar to gather the items Aysha had requested. When Jenner begged for a draught of ale at one of his favorite taverns, Ranik agreed, despite his uneasiness at a delay in returning to Aysha. He followed Jenner through the main section of town, hoping this one last stop wouldn’t take long.

  Glen Briar was a constant throng of men, women, and wheelbarrows. The noise of all the bustling activity was overwhelming. The roads were cobbled and nicer than Glen Ore’s but smelt of human urine and animal excrement. Ranik had had his coin pouch thieved on his last visit so he kept his hand on his belt and an eye on all who passed. He let Jenner press him into a tavern with a red door and sank down on the stool where Jenner directed him.

  Jenner ordered their drinks and a basket of salted nuts. He tasted one and murmured his approval. “Glen Briar has anything a man might want, I think.”

  Ranik shook his head.

  “Why so disagreeable today, Ranik? Why not enjoy the outing?” He handed him a nut and popped another in his mouth. “You’ve been moody all morning. What is it?”

  “How did you know about the woman in the barn?” Ranik had been wrestling with this question for their entire ride and couldn’t hold it in any longer. He knew that there was something important that Jenner wasn’t sharing. “Is she someone you know?”

  “What woman?”

  “Darin, the fugitive.”

  Jenner smiled. “My good friend Ranik would never hide a fugitive in his barn. I remember nothing.”

  Ranik felt his jaw muscles tighten. He wanted to throw the basket of nuts at him to make him realize this was no joke. “Tell me, Jenner. I’m tired of the secrets.”

  “And I’m tired of questions I can’t answer.” Jenner’s voice had a knife’s sharpness. The kindness that always seemed to sparkle in his eyes was gone.

  Ranik struggled to explain his frustration, but his words fell on deaf ears. After a long bit of silence, they finished their ale over a conversation about fishing, a subject that neither cared very much about. As they were leaving the tavern, Jenner asked Ranik to ride with him to the river. Ranik knew this meant Jenner was saying an early goodbye. True, it would be simpler for him to head back to his boat now that he’d ridden nearly all the way to it. Otherwise he’d have to make his way there on foot the next day.

  Ranik wanted one last night with him. He knew, though, that things had somehow changed irreparably in the tavern.

  When they reached the river, Jenner hopped off Prince and handed his reins to Ranik. “You could stay the night. We could find a stable for the horses.”

  “Aysha needs the willow bark,” Ranik said. It wasn’t only this. Jenner’s secrets had come between them.

  “Then I won’t see you until Winter Solstice?”

  The empty distance of that plan left Ranik fighting back tears. “You know where to find me.”

  Jenner clasped Ranik’s hand and then held out a silver chain on which dangled a black pearl. “Tell me that you don’t want to see me on Solstice and I won’t bother you again.” Tears welled in Jenner’s eyes.

  Ranik took the chain. “Solstice.” He watched Jenner’s back until he’d disappeared in the maze of moored boats and fishermen.

  Chapter Nine

  Aysha managed to get Shawn through the first few hours of the fever with no seizure, but her draught of willow tea was running thin. She felt Shawn’s forehead and knew the fever was worsening. A rash had spread across Shawn’s chest and down the insides of both her arms. Her body shook with tremors that came in sudden spasms and left her too weak to swallow.

  By midday, the tremors were winning and Aysha began to lose hope. She cried when Helm brought over a small leather sack filled with a dozen dark mushrooms. He hugged her and left quickly, promising that Ranik was en route to Glen Briar for the willow bark. Aysha bade him to scrub his boots before he entered his house, lest he carry the fever home, and then dried her eyes. She had no time for tears.

  Soaked in apple vinegar, the mushrooms softened, and Aysha managed to slip some down Shawn’s throat, followed with a sip of bitters. Shawn was hardly conscious through most of the afternoon and sputtered nonsense about mice whenever she roused enough to speak. Aysha kept herself busy mopping Shawn’s sweaty brow with a rag soaked in cool lavender water and worrying about Ranik’s return. She would soon be desperate for the willow bark.

  At sunset, Shawn had her first seizure. She quieted within a few minutes, but a second one came on the heels of the first and was violent and painful to watch. After this, she settled in to a fitful sleep. It was dark before Aysha heard Ranik’s voice outside of Callan’s cottage.

  Callan brought in three large strips of bark, more than enough for several patients, and three small leather pouches, filled with the rest of the items she’d requested. Callan set a small dinner plate on the table. “I have strict orders from Tillie to see that you swallow some of this.”

  “As long as I know that you didn’t have a hand in the cooking.”

  “You know I wouldn’t dare.” Callan had lived alone since his own father had passed of the Red Fever last winter, and he was notorious for showing up at neighbors’ doors at dinnertime. He sat down on Aysha’s stool when she got up to prepare the willow bark and kept his eyes on Shawn. She was asleep, at the moment, but her breathing was too rapid to believe that she was at rest.

  “How is she?”

  Aysha debated telling him the truth. Shawn was as bad as she had seen anyone get, and yet she wasn’t dead. The seizures had been awful, Shawn shaking with such force and frothing at the mouth like a crazed dog. She went taut for a minute during this and Aysha was certain she was about to witness her last breath, but then strangely she had recovered. The next hour passed without another seizure. “She’s sleeping now. That’s some comfort. Why don’t you set up a sleeping mat in the corner here and rest too?”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “It’s your home, Callan.” She tore a few small strips off of the smallest of the bark pieces, tossed these into the pot of boiling water and then set the lid on the pot. Using Callan’s iron rod, she pushed the pot away from the
fire and then tossed in a few of her other herbs to steep with the willow.

  “I better not. I want you to tend to her undisturbed. I can sleep outside,” Callan offered.

  “If she wakes, she’ll want to know you’re here with her.”

  After a few minutes, he rose and went to his father’s room. He came back with a bed mat and a blanket and laid this on the floor near Shawn’s feet. Aysha knew he’d had no sleep the night before. His eyes were rimmed with dark shadows.

  “Rest, Callan. I’ll wake you if she asks for you.”

  “I don’t think I can. If she passes as my father did…it was the middle of the night, and I had fallen asleep. When I woke, he was dead. I wish you’d been here then.” His eyes welled with tears, but he rubbed them away before they could fall. “I’ll never forgive myself if I’m not holding her hand when she goes.”

  “If she goes,” Aysha said. She knelt on his blanket and held his hand. How different he was as a grown man, she thought, from the boisterous and rowdy childhood friend of Ranik’s. “You shouldn’t have held back your grieving for this long. Your father ought to be cried for.”

  Once he had permission, Callan’s body shook with the sobs. She held him as he cried for his father, perhaps for the mother he had lost as a child and perhaps for the wife he had hoped Shawn would become. When the worst had subsided, Aysha eased him down on the blankets. “Close your eyes. I promise I’ll wake you.”

  He was sound asleep in minutes and Aysha fell back to tending Shawn. She had begun writhing on the bed sheets and seemed close to the start of another seizure. Aysha waited out the tremors and by midnight, Shawn was still.

  As the hours wore on, Aysha’s thoughts turned to Darin. She caught herself comparing the two women and finding only contrasts. Darin was tall and angular while Shawn was shorter than Aysha and soft with gentle curves. Darin was older than Aysha by several years, she guessed, while Shawn was a few years younger. She and Shawn had known each other their entire lives while she had known Darin only a few days. And yet she’d been more herself with Darin. And more present.