by James Fuller
“He started it!” Daden muttered back, still glaring at Meath over her shoulder.
“Put yourself in his boots.” Kara said, before turning back to face Meath, who was now on his feet. “Meath, I need you to calm down - we are not here to fight.”
Meath wiped the line of blood that ran down his chin from his split lip. “You should have thought about that before taking me against my will and holding me prisoner.”
“Meath, please just let me…”
“Shut up, Kara!” Meath barked back. “Where are my friends? What happened to them?”
“That is not what we are here to talk about right now, Meath.” Kara replied nervously. “If you would just calm down I will explain…”
“Calm down?” Meath interrupted, nearly laughing at her. “Tell me where my friends are and I will consider calming down!”
Kara licked her lips timidly and looked over to Daden. This was not how she had expected this to go and he was asking questions she had hoped he would not.
“You want to know what happened to them, Meath?” Daden cut in and took a step forward.
“Daden, no! We are not to tell him anything…” Kara began, but Daden silenced her with an upheld hand.
“Your friends are dead, Meath.”
The blood drained from Meath’s face. “What... no you are lying!” He protested, his defiant posture weakening.
“Am I?” Daden took a step closer. “They died Meath… on the banks of Drake River…after I took you down.”
“Daden, stop it!” Kara cried out, her eyes rimmed with tears.
“No, Kara, he wanted to know, and he needs to hear it. He has every right to know what happened.” Daden snapped back. “We did not mean for this to happen, Meath, this was not part of the plan. They were not meant to die, they should not have even been out there in the first place.”
“They were… they were coming to… to save me…” Meath whispered, his eyes locking on Daden’s, “from you!”
“We tried to help them, but it was already too late.” Daden finished. “For what it is worth, I am sorry.”
“I could have helped them…” Meath mumbled, his eyes burning with tears. “I could have saved them!” He screamed. “They would still be alive if not for you two!” Meath charged, but Daden was ready and took no chances this time as both hands came up and a large gust of air ruptured from his outstretched hands. Meath slammed back into the side wall, his head cracking off the wood. He slumped to the stone floor.
“Daden, what have you done?”
“What needed to be done, Kara.”
Kara went to Meath’s limp form and checked his head. Aside from a large forming bruise and likely a horrible headache when he awoke, he would be fine. “We were to tell him nothing of his friends. Why did you tell him all that?”
“Because now that he has nothing to go back to, he might listen and do as needed.” Daden went to Meath, picked him up and carried him back to the bed.
“But it was all a lie, they are not dead.”
“He does not know that.”
“If he ever finds out…” Kara countered, pulling the covers over Meath.
Daden set the tray of food and water down by the bed. “How could he? They might very well be dead by now, for all we know.”
They left the room and the door vanished behind them.
“It is for the best, Kara.” Daden told her. “If he believes his friends are dead he will not fight us at every turn, or try to escape. He will learn to accept his fate and it will be a lot easier for us all.” He sighed, seeing the discomfort in his friend. “Who knows, when this is all over, maybe he will find them again.”
“I understand your reasoning, but Lady Zada is not going to be pleased by this turn out of events.”
Daden sighed at the reminder. “No, likely not, but what is done is done. I will go inform her of what happened. You go get some rest, Kara.”
*****
Nicolette stood lifelessly still against the gnarled trunk of an overgrown tree, almost completely camouflaged in mud, dirt and moss, blending with dreary swamp surroundings. She watched as the band of men that had been hunting them through the jungle for the week trudged by her, only a few arm-lengths away. The slightest movement would give her away and would surely result in her capture…or worse.
Since their last fight at the riverbed days before - where they had been saved by a sudden magical assault from across the river by an unknown source - they had been on an almost a constant run for their lives, with very little reprieve. On more than one occasion, they had been sure they would be caught. Luck had blessed them time and time again, but it was only a matter of time before that luck would inevitably run out.
Fear coursed through her as she fought her body’s natural urge to tremble and hyperventilate. Her sword rested beside her, buried deep in the thick mud and her fingertips could just touch the top of the hilt, bringing her only minimum comfort. She could easily snatch it up if she had to, but she was not looking for a fight that she could not win. The only thing keeping her calm was that she kept her eyes on her friends, who were already on the other side of the bog. Zehava motioned for her to keep her eyes locked with his and she did. Soon though, they drifted back to the men that trudged passed her.
“I have not seen any more blood, I wonder if that one finally died.” One of the brutes in the middle of the line said, swatting at the insects biting at his neck.
“Would not surprise me - gut wounds are vicious and if not treated are killers in places like this,” another replied.
“Bastards are smart to use the bog to cover their tracks.” One of the men mumbled to the others as he fought through the knee-deep mud.
“I cannot wait to get my hands on them!” The first man barked again angrily. “I am going do some serious damage!”
“Calm yourself, Conner, we will catch them.” The man in front said over his shoulder. “We do not want them to be too damaged after this, remember?”
“Never have we had this much of a problem bring a group down, Lance,” The one at the end of the line complained. “Maybe it is not even worth it anymore. Maybe we should just go back to camp and cut our losses.”
“What?” Lance barked, stopping in the deep mud. “How can you say that, Mitch? This is what we do; the other four cleared a path.”
“I am just saying, Lance, we have already lost a lot of good men because of these bastards,” Mitch told him, trying hard to stand his ground.
“They knew what they were getting into, they were just hired goons anyways - hired goons that we do not have to pay now!” Lance argued back. “These four are going to make us some good…” Lance stopped in mid-sentence and cupped his ears, straining to hear.
“What is it?” Conner asked, scanning the area for movement - Nicolette was almost sure he had heard her breathing.
“I heard something over there, let us go!” Lance ordered, continuing their quest to the far side of the bog with haste.
Nicolette waited for what felt like a lifetime before she even considered moving. She could still hear the men far off in the distance, but knew they were making too much noise of their own and were too far away to be able to hear or see her now. Slowly, she made her way through the thick muck and overgrowth to where the others waited. They helped pull her out of the bog and back onto firmer ground.
“That was too close.” Zehava muttered, not taking his eyes off where he had seen the brutes vanish - they could not afford another confrontation.
“Are you all right?” Shania asked, resting a reassuring hand on Nicolette’s shoulder.
“I will be all right now.” She replied as she wiped some of the mud from her face.
Dahak groaned sickly. “I do not think I can go on much further.” He whispered through dried, ashen lips.
“Do not say that, Dahak, you are gonna be all right.” Zehava told him as he kneeled beside his friend. “I promise… you are going to make it through this.”
D
ahak looked up; his eyes were dull and sunken in his pale, stricken face. “You are a horrible liar, Zehava.”
“He not lying,” Shania said, checking the deep wound in his abdomen. It was bad and they all knew it. It was a miracle he was still alive. If he did not get proper attention soon, he would die. “You are strong of spirit, or else you would have given up by now.”
Dahak smiled weakly at her and whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. “I have something worth fighting for.”
She smiled back at him. He had been the worst off in the fight by the river and had taken a serious wound, which needed attention as soon as possible. They had only been able to stop for a few hours after they had first escaped the riverbed. There, Shania had done her best to clean and dress the gut wound. But the constant running and movement was keeping the wound from closing, and all the sweat and dirt which was getting into it was only making it fester. With no food and water, he was slowly getting weaker - if the wound kept oozing blood, he would die of either blood loss or infection.
“Well I hate to do this to you, but we need to keep moving.” Zehava replied, clasping his friend’s hand and helped him up. He supported his weight around his shoulder while Shania took the other side. “We need to find somewhere safe so Dahak can get some real rest and attention for his wound.” Zehava said, scanning the area for the easiest way of travel, but it was all the same - deep dense growth.
Nicolette wiped the muck from her blade and began leading the way through the entanglement of vines and twisted branches. Every hundred paces of ground they covered, they stopped and listened for several heartbeats to ensure Lance and the others had not heard them.
They traveled as hard as they could force Dahak to move and had made it roughly three miles from the bog before they finally collapsed and could go no further. They were all exhausted - their muscles screamed in agony and their hunger pains could be heard by all. If they were caught now, surrender was their only option.
They had not come across any clean, usable water for drinking or for the cleaning of festering wounds, but the grumble of thunder in the distance promised fresh rain, as well as a cold, wet night as the rainy season would soon be upon them.
Zehava and Nicolette worked quickly, building a makeshift shelter that would last for the night and would keep them from getting drenched. They used a fallen tree as a wall and lay long branches down the side of it, covering the top of it with as many large leaves, branches and long strips of bark as they could find and cut off. Soon, all four of them were huddled underneath the rough construction and out of the main flood of rain that made its way through the thick canopy above them.
Shania used Dahak's shirt to soak up water from outside to clean his filthy, oozing wound. Lucky for Dahak, the cream Shania had used the first time had kept it from getting badly infected. She inspected the dagger wound closer this time and did not see any internal bleeding which gave her hope that nothing vital had been hit.
“I need you to bite down on this, Dahak.” Shania told him, putting a familiar, thick piece of leather into his mouth and motioned for Zehava and Nicolette to hold him steady.
Dahak began panting involuntarily, knowing what was to come again. He knew he had torn several of the stitches and they would need to be redone… he just wished it was not him that had to go through it again. He bit down hard into the leather, fighting back the tears that welled up in his eyes as Shania went to work with the needle-thin thread. He did his best to not jolt and tremble as the needle dug into his tender, bruised flesh and the gaping wound was closed up.
Shania twisted several leaves together into a poorly constructed bowl, left it outside their shelter, and let it fill with rain water. Once the bowl was full, she tipped it to Dahak’s dry, pale lips and he drank deeply until he could hold no more.
“Rest now, my friend, we are safe for a time.” Zehava told him, helping to lay him down so that he could sleep more comfortably.
“Do not let me sleep for long,” Dahak whispered. “We should not stay in one spot for…” Before he could finish, he was fast asleep.
Zehava rested against the fallen tree within their shelter - he was exhausted and was terrified for all of them. “Is he going to…?” He asked Shania, almost afraid to meet her eyes.
Nicolette gasped slightly, fear welling up in her features at the possibility. “Do not say that!”
“I… I do not know.” Shania admitted, her tone matching that of Zehava’s. “Only time will tell.” She grabbed the leaf bowl from the rain and drank deep before handing it to Nicolette. It was not food, but it would help take the pains from their bellies for a while.
Zehava leaned back again and sighed loudly. “Always with the waiting…how I hate waiting.” The statement drew a small laugh from Nicolette as she handed him what was left of the water. “What?” He asked, taking a drink.
“You are starting to sound like Meath.”
Zehava smiled. “I think I wait a lot better than him. We should get some sleep. We should be safe tonight with the rain. I doubt we will need anyone to stand watch. Our pursuers will have likely found shelter, much as we have.”
It was mid-morning before Shania finally stirred awake, feeling the warmth upon her cheek as a thick ray of sunlight speared through the canopy above. She sat up and looked over to see everyone was still asleep, underneath their crude shelter. She checked on Dahak, and was relieved to find he was still breathing and some of his colour was returning.
“Keeper’s balls, we overslept!” Zehava cursed, pushing himself up.
Nicolette rolled over, a dagger gripped in her hand tightly. “What is it? What is the matter?”
“It is mid-morning.” Zehava told her. “We need to get moving again. How is he doing?” He asked, seeing Shania inspecting Dahak.
“The wound is swollen badly, but the infection is going down.” Shania replied, though her eyes stayed on Dahak’s face.
“What is it?”
“He is not waking up.” She lightly slapped Dahak’s face but he did not stir.
“What do you mean he is not waking up?” Nicolette cried out. “Why is he not waking up? What is a matter with him?” her tone urgent and worried.
“I have seen this before from some of our warriors after a battle. They get badly wounded and their minds shut down while their bodies try to recover.”
“But he will recover, right?” Nicolette asked, her eyes betraying her fears.
“Some do…” Was all Shania said.
Zehava slumped down to his knees, his eyes staring down at the damp, flattened earth where they had slept, his face emotionless, yet his mind swarmed with them. This was not how it was supposed to be, this was not how he had pictured it. He knew there would be trouble, even danger, but not like this. Not like this at all. How could he have been so foolish as to think it would have been so simple to find Meath and rescue him; worse yet, how could he have been so imprudent to allow the only heir to the Kingdom to go on such a reckless exploit.
His face paled - this was treason! He was trained to fight for his country and the protection of his King or Queen, not endanger their life on a near impossible rescue mission. This was treason - if they survived this, he would likely hang or spend the rest of his life in a dungeon.
No, Nicolette was Queen now; she would not allow that to happen… she was Queen now. The words cut through him like an enemy’s blade. How could he have helped put the Queen of Draco so far into mortal danger? She should have stayed behind - he, Shania, and Dahak should have come alone. “Are you all right?” He heard Nicolette ask him.
Zehava’s eyes drifted back up to see Nicolette and Shania looking at him with growing concern. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. I am okay.” He lied.
“What we do?” Shania asked. “Dahak needs rest and right foods and herbs.”
“But what about Meath? We are so close; that was him on the riverbank that saved our lives!” Nicolette blurted out, but after the words had left her mouth, guilt
struck her hard. Dahak might die if he did not receive help. “I… I am sorry, I did not mean it to sound like that.”
“What do you mean it was Meath at river?” Shania asked, perplexed. “How do you know?”
“I just know it was,” Nicolette replied. “I can feel it…it was him.”
“Then why he not with us now?”
“I do not know - maybe he was captured again, maybe he was attacked and had to lead them away,” Nicolette stuttered out, nearly too fast to make sense. “I do not know; I just know it was him.”
Shania shrugged and looked back to Zehava. “What should we do?” She looked back at Dahak’s unconscious form.
Zehava wanted to scream aloud. Why were they asking him? Why did they assume he knew the right answers and could make the right decisions? How did he become the leader? He stiffened himself; pride would not let him show weakness, not now, not when they needed him the most. Their lives were in his hands, he would not let them down.
“Dahak needs somewhere safe to recover, even if it is just for a while.” He sighed. “I believe you are right. I, too, felt something familiar that morning on the riverbed - it was Meath, which means he is still alive and he knows we are trying to find him.” He sighed again. “He would understand and would want us to get Dahak to safety.”
“Where are we going to go? We have no idea where a town or village even is,” Nicolette replied, knowing the decision was the right one, yet her heart hurt with the thought of stopping the search for Meath when she was certain they were close.
“If we go back to river, maybe our supplies are there.” Shania said as she stroked Dahak’s sweat-slicked hair from his face. “I have herbs that will help him.”
“I highly doubt our supplies would even still be there, surely those men chasing us would have taken them.” Zehava countered.
“Maybe not,” Nicolette replied. “I did not see any of our packs with them in the swamp when they walked by me. It could be possible they did not stop long enough to grab our things before giving chase.”