by Hal Emerson
Chapter Thirteen: The Most Loyal Friend
The next few days found the three companions riding south at a breakneck speed, the Prince on Trudger, the name of the packhorse, and Tomaz and Leah doubled up on the black charger Malial. After they had gone far and long and still seen no sign of pursuit, Tomaz began to circle behind to check their back trail, and it became clear that they were far ahead of any chasing force. When it rained again the day after, hard and long, they were all confident that they were temporarily safe, all the more so because the Prince had reached through the Raven Talisman and confirmed that they were very much alone in the wilderness. They were far from the Roarke Road, and therefore far from any common travelers. After that, they slowed their pace, and the Prince lost track of time.
In space, they were traveling through the heavily forested lands south of Banelyn and west of Formaux, moving farther south toward Lake Chartain, the largest inland body of water in the Empire of Lucia. He knew, vaguely, how long it would take to make that journey via the main roads, but they weren’t taking the main roads because those were sure to be patrolled by soldiers of the Empire. So the usual number of weeks was bound to double or even triple, stretching into months. The Prince knew that there were small towns up and down the roads, some large enough to hold as many as twenty or thirty families. Each town this size had a garrison of Defenders, the common foot soldiers of the Empire known throughout Lucia for their zealotry, and it was the responsibility of each garrison to patrol the roads a full day’s ride in all directions. And, as both the Exiles and the Prince were aware, there were enough towns between Banelyn and Roarke that this meant, generally speaking, there would be a patrol every few miles, and after their escape from Banelyn they had little doubt that all such garrisons were looking for them.
Ironically, as Leah pointed out to him with a smirk, it was the Prince’s fault they couldn’t travel the main roads. Two exiles being hunted was not an uncommon thing, and they were trained in and accustomed to passing unnoticed and had many times before. But the Prince of Ravens was much easier to recognize, even if the specific details of his identity hadn’t been relayed, and so they were forced to stay as far from civilization as possible.
“I doubt the Empress would want everyone to know that one of the Children is being hunted,” Tomaz had said as they discussed the topic.
“Agreed,” Leah said. “I think it’s most likely that they are calling him a renegade Bloodmage. It’s easy to mistake the marks on his back that way, and no doubt it would be taken very seriously. What do you think?”
After a long span of silence, the Prince, currently walking beside Trudger, looked up over the horse’s back and saw the girl looking at him expectantly.
“Oh,” he said. “I think they’d see right through that.”
He said it so bluntly, that for a moment they both stared at him. And then Tomaz threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“Be quiet!” Leah told him, cheeks burning. “What if someone hears you?”
The big man continued to laugh, but he did quiet down. Well, as much as the huge bear of a man could quiet down considering that the sounds he was making still seemed to vibrate the Prince from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
“I’m sorry,” the Prince said, the words still foreign to him, but persistently giving them a try. “I didn’t mean to be so frank - I didn’t realize you were speaking to me.”
“It’s fine,” the Exile girl said hotly, “what do you think they’ll say?”
The Prince considered for a moment, and as he did, Tomaz’s laughter died out and they found themselves once more in the silence of the forest.
“I think they’ll keep as much of the truth as possible,” he said. “I should think they will describe me as … an Exile. One who had impersonated a member of the Most High – perhaps even I will be described as a renegade house player who has committed treason. Such things are taken very seriously – a reward would be attached that would inspire all Most High houses to pursue me arduously in the hopes that I end up being a son of an enemy house that they could...”
The Prince looked back at Leah and Tomaz and saw them both watching him. He cleared his throat and carried on.
“In any case, both of your descriptions will no doubt be circulated, as will mine.”
“None of them got a good enough look at us to describe us perfectly,” Leah protested, “besides, we were in those Seeker robes….”
She trailed off as she saw the Prince shaking his head.
“We ran into the Lord Seeker,” he said. When he saw they didn’t understand, he realized that he sometimes gave them too much credit - they seemed to know so much about the inner workings of the Empire that when they didn’t know something that seemed like an obvious piece of information, it took him by surprise.
“Full Seekers of Truth are trained to have perfect recall,” the Prince explained. “They’re trained to remember everything they see and hear, as their job is such that they need to be able to remember every little detail. And the Lord Seeker saw us.”
The Prince had to give the Exiles some credit - as they absorbed this piece of information they remained admirably stoic. Anyone else who had just heard that one of the leaders of the most feared organization in the entire Empire would know them on sight as rebel outlaws would probably have reacted in a different way. The Prince assumed screaming and cowering in fear would be the most common, though begging and pleading things such as “say it isn’t so!” were no doubt close behind.
The Exiles, however, just seemed annoyed.
“So he knows exactly what we look like - and you think he’s - what - made sketches and sent them to the garrisons of Defenders?”
“Yes, actually,” the Prince said.
“Oh. Well. Okay.”
“Though I think the most important part is that there will no doubt be a bounty attached to our heads,” he continued, watching them carefully for their reactions. “I agree with Tomaz in that the specific details of my identity will be kept a secret, but I think that it will be alluded to heavily that I’m an Exile spy, a treasonous member of the High Blood who passed along important information. That will certainly get the Defenders riled up. As for the bounties, I assume mine will be significant, because, as the Seeker mentioned, I’m now wanted alive. For you two, the price will be high as well no doubt, but likely they are only seeking you to find me.”
“Unless that Seeker can connect us with our former lives,” Tomaz mused idly. “I suppose the price would be higher then.”
The Prince was astounded - the big man hadn’t spoken with any bit of fear at all. Only a thoughtful kind of speculation.
“Yes,” the Prince said, unsure what else to say.
“Shadows and fire,” Leah cursed suddenly, and the Prince looked at her, somehow feeling more comfortable that she at least was showing fear about this whole situation.
“That means we probably won’t be able to get any supplies, will we?”
The Prince found himself utterly flabbergasted. She was worried about supplies?
“We’ll have to go the long way around too,” Tomaz said, looking terribly glum. “Swamps … gaaah I hate swamps. Pesky little bugs all over the place … fuegh … ”
“Don’t you two understand?”
Both Exiles looked at him in surprise. The Prince cleared his throat and looked down, trying to contain a further outburst.
“I apologize,” the word caught in his throat again, but he persevered, “but don’t you understand that this is one of the deadliest men in the entire Empire? That now he has a personal vendetta against the two of you? He will no doubt have sketches made and circulated, not just to garrisons along the Roarke Road, but to other Seeker cells throughout the Empire. Bounty hunters and even common Defenders will have your images branded into their minds by the amount of money that is being offered for the three of us taken together. There will be no place for you to go to ground. No matter where you go, n
o matter what town, what city, you will be recognized, and likely killed in your sleep! This is not a matter to be taken lightly!”
Tomaz and Leah exchanged a look, as if asking “do you want to take this, or shall I?” The Prince felt his ire rise - here he was, trying to be helpful and concerned for their well-being, and all they did was treat him like a child who was scared of the bogeyman!
But before he could speak and vent his spleen at them, Tomaz held up a hand and the Prince held his tongue.
“Before you start having a fit, let me explain. Twenty years ago, I was a member of the Guardians. A Blade Master.”
Leah looked at him, alarmed, but he forestalled her.
“No no, it’s okay, I told him when we were camped outside Banelyn.”
She relaxed about half an inch, still watching the Prince and Tomaz intensely, but Tomaz paid it no mind and continued speaking.
“I’m nearly eight feet tall,” he said with bluff candor. “I think in these boots I might actually be that and a little more. In any case, I’m not easy to miss. There have been pictures of me in every town, village, city, and hamlet, for nearly two decades. Hell, there’s even a legend about me up in the Port of Valour. It’s a good one too. Someday we’ll have to go, just so you can hear it from one of the fisherfolk yourself.”
He was grinning from ear to ear, but then he looked at Leah, who was very seriously frowning back at him, and he gruffly cleared his throat and rumbled on.
“The point is all of the Exiled Kindred who serve as Rogues or Rangers have bounties on their heads and sketches made of them to be put on garrison walls. This may be Leah’s first, but I doubt it. She made a bit of a name for herself up north when we were in Tyne last year.”
He smiled wickedly at her, and for some reason she blushed furiously.
“What do you mean?” the Prince asked curiously.
“Well, it involved a very fashionable dress and two or three young men –”
“Well, that’s enough talk,” the girl said, “let’s get moving.”
And with that, she jumped up on the stallion’s back and spurred Malial on ahead, and, though he seemed rather annoyed to have anyone but Tomaz giving him orders, the warhorse obliged and she was soon lost in the trees.
The next few weeks passed just like that. They would talk from time to time, about this or that, and the Exiles continued to dismiss the Prince’s fears as irrelevant, and as time passed and they saw not a single soul, the Prince fell silent and let it rest.
During the journey he began to learn small details about them, things that prior to captivity he never would have cared about. Such as that Tomaz liked lavender. They had passed a clump of it on the journey, and the big man had let out such a bellow that both Leah and the Prince had turned around and unsheathed their daggers, ready for battle, when they saw the big man jump off Malial and lumber over to the purple blooms. Leah had found this hilarious, and actually began to roll about on the ground with laughter. The Prince began to chuckle as well … and then he was laughing full out with her, and so was Tomaz, who had taken some of the plant and stuck it behind his ears, holding double handfuls to his nose and inhaling deeply.
It felt good to travel with the two Exiles, the Prince had to admit to himself. True, the fare was nothing grand, mostly what Leah and Tomaz caught and harvested along the way to supplement the supply of cheese and herbs they’d restocked in Banelyn, but there was a strange, peaceful quality to the woods that caught the Prince by surprise. It was a kind of isolation, a serenity that he had never before encountered. The summer was fading slowly into autumn, and as it did the mornings got chiller and fog would roll in at night to cover even the tallest of the tall trees - redwoods, like Tomaz had shown him in the Elmist Mountains - leaving them wrapped in a cocoon of silence.
The cold was too much for the Prince the first few days, as they built no fire so as to risk not even the slightest chance of pursuit, and even with the extra blanket he could only curl into a ball and shiver through the night. But after they were sure they’d lost any pursuit, they’d begun to make small fires, and the nights had been easier to bear. Additionally, the first deer Tomaz had seen was quickly brought down, gutted, skinned, and over a few days transformed by a mysterious process the Prince could neither explain nor fully comprehend: the hide was stretched, scraped, painted with some foul smelling stew made of various rendered animal parts, and left to dry attached to the back of Malial’s saddle, extending out past his rump like a strange sail. When it was done, Tomaz presented it to the Prince, and told him it was a coat, if he could make it into one.
“I did the prep work, since I enjoy doing it,” the big man rumbled, “but the sewing is up to you. You can make it long, you can make it short, full sleeve, no sleeve, whatever you’d like. I’ve got a couple more scraps of hide in one of the packs if you need anything, and of course I have plenty of thread. So figure it out and make yourself a coat.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing how this turns out,” Leah said, and they both turned to see her bringing in wood for that night’s fire, a smirk on her face.
“Don’t listen to her,” Tomaz said to him a quiet, conspiratorial whisper, “she’s just worried your first coat will be better than hers was.”
The Prince had spent the entire rest of the night trying to figure out how he felt about this interaction, and the unexpected gift of a deer hide. For the next few days he simply kept the hide as it was, wrapping it around him as he walked or rode Trudger like a robe or a cape. But soon he started having ideas about what he could make with it … how he could add a hood to make a new cloak, or cut a pattern to make a shirt … and he almost broke down.
He didn’t know why exactly. All he knew was that something about the hide had solidified for him the realization that his life had been changed forever. Here he was, traveling through a forest with two outlaws, a hunted man, unshaven, unwashed, smelling like some dead animal, unable to return to his family, completely lost to everything and anything that had ever held meaning for him. He had no goal, no destination, he was simply moving to move, traveling with Tomaz and Leah because they were the two who had rescued him, and yes they were fine, but they weren’t anyone important, they weren’t people who could fix the situation he was in, they were just two people, two EXILES, how had he ever gotten himself into this situation, what was it that he had done - done - he needed to figure out what he had done and return to his Mother, the EMPRESS, the ruler of Lucia. He needed to return to her good favor; she was Life and Light and Salvation to all who believed in her and if only he could find a way to show her he was sorry, show her that he was still worthy; he needed to be penitent, needed to humble himself, accept his faults and go back, and if he died, if she needed him dead, then that was what was needed, because the good of the Empire was what concerned her, and if the Empire was better off with him dead, better off with someone more worthy wearing the Raven Talisman about their shoulders, better off without him – WITHOUT HIM! – then fine, he’d give up – give up and let it all end that way so he could just –
SLAP!
The Prince’s head rang like a bell, and stars exploded across his vision as Leah struck him clean across the face.
“Stop it,” she said, as calmly as if saying good morning.
Red, the deep, nauseating color of blood, clouded the Prince’s vision, and he felt rage rise up in him. It was one thing to strike him in combat, but to strike him in such a way, unprovoked – that he would not let go.
He launched himself at the girl, bearing her to the ground with him. He thought he saw a brief look of surprise cross her face, but then he didn’t care, because he was pummeling every inch of her that he could reach, with fists, knees, anything at all.
An enormous hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him backward, up into the air.
“That’s enough of that, I think.”
The Prince, surprised to suddenly find himself dangling several feet off the ground, shot a
murderous glare at Tomaz, and then refocused on Leah, lying on the ground with a trickle of blood coming from her lower lip.
“You slapped me! Shadows and light, I was just going along and then she slapped me, Tomaz! By the Empress, what do you want from me? She hit me! I may not be a Prince anymore, but I bloody well deserve the right to hit someone back when they hit me first!”
Tomaz looked at Leah, who was slowly getting up. The Prince saw, to mingled feelings of relief and anger, that she wasn’t much hurt. He’d been so blindingly angry that all he’d really done was knock her to the ground and give her a good amount of bruises. She winced once, and the Prince saw her grab her side, and he felt a moment of triumph. Good! That’s what she deserved!
“What did you do that for, Eshendai?” The big man sounded more resigned and exasperated than curious, but he waited for the girl to respond.
“He was going to a dark place,” the girl said. “Had to snap him out of it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the Prince retorted. “I can think whatever the bloody burning shadow-cursed hells I want!”
“A noble thought, Eshendai,” Tomaz said wryly, “but did you really have to slap him? You never take the subtle approach to anything, do you?”
“I remember you helping me in a very similar way once, Tomaz,” Leah said to the big man. “He was closing off.”
Tomaz eyed the Prince, still held by the scruff of his neck in the air, and then slowly lowered him so his feet were touching the ground again.
“Once I let you go, you will let her be. She struck you, you struck her back. You’re even. If you attempt to hurt her anymore, then I can and will tie you back to the horse. In case the two of you don’t remember,” he shot a look at Leah as well, “we’re being hunted by nearly everyone in the thrice-damned Empire. Likely they’ve recruited even their grandmothers to keep a lookout and cane us should we pass by. So let’s try and be good boys and girls who don’t fight too much between ourselves, yes?”
The Prince scowled at the big man, but when Tomaz raised an eyebrow, giving his no-nonsense expression, the Prince swallowed his anger and nodded.
Tomaz let go of him, and the Prince took a deep breath before turning to face the girl.
“Why did you strike me?”
“Because you were starting to think about going back,” she said, watching him closely, her look daring him to contradict her. “You were thinking that maybe if you just went back, and even if you let them punish you and kill you, at least you’d be going back and doing the right thing, the thing that was best for everyone, the thing that was best for the Empire. That maybe it would even be easier, because at least then you wouldn’t be hunted. Right?”
The Prince felt chills go up and down his back, and also the heat of embarrassment and shame, knowing that she had guessed his thoughts.
“How did you know?” he asked, his voice coming out a little mumbled and sullen.
“Because I went through the same thing,” she said. Her eyes clouded over for a moment, and then cleared again. “And the only thing that ever brought me out of it was when Tomaz cuffed me upside the head for almost getting him killed.”
“You hit her?” the Prince asked, a little unbelieving.
“Hit might not be the right word,” Leah said dryly. “As I remember it, he clocked me so hard I flew ten feet through the air and hit a tree.”
A rumble-chuckle came from the big man, who clearly remembered the incident. Leah took a step forward, and pointed a finger dagger-like at the Prince’s chest.
“Use your anger. Cling to it. Let all of the other emotions get burned up in it. It is the most loyal friend you will ever have. It will always take your side, and it will never leave you helpless. Hold it close. Don’t let it go. When you feel shame or guilt, or anything at all, burn it in anger. Focus in on a single point, and feed the emotions, one by one, into the flame, until your mind is clear, and you can think again.”
“Anger is not useful,” the Prince protested. “Anger clouds your mind.”
“So does shame, and guilt, and self-pity,” she said, taking another step forward, only an arms distance away now, speaking slowly and emphatically. “So use your anger to conquer those, and once you do, then you can worry about conquering the anger.”
The Prince was silent. He didn’t know how he felt about this … didn’t know if he believed such a thing could really help. The silence stretched, and finally the girl looked him up and down, seemed to decide that that was the best she could do, and walked away. The three of them began to move again, all of them on foot to save the horses’ strength for when it was needed. The girl pulled farther ahead, taking point, and the Prince found himself walking beside Tomaz, each of them leading one of the horses.
For a long time, they were both silent, and then the Prince spoke:
“What did you do, Tomaz? After you made it to the Kindred and you knew that, for a time at least, you were safe.”
“I drank. Heavily.”
The Prince looked at the big man in surprise. That was quite possibly the last thing he would have expected from the man he had come to know. Tomaz saw him looking and nodded.
“Morning, noon and night, the Kindred knew where to find me. I made a makeshift lean-to out in the woods and spent my days drunk as a daisy.”
“No matter how many times you say it, that still doesn’t make sense,” Leah called lightly from up ahead. The big man and the slight girl exchanged smiles as she looked over her shoulder. Tomaz shook his head and chuckled wearily.
“It wasn’t until General Goldwyn found me and told me the same thing I told Leah, the same thing she just told you, that I was able to find myself again. You can only blame yourself for so much, only take so much on your shoulders, before you start taking on the problems of the whole world. General Goldwyn and I didn’t agree at first.”
Here Tomaz paused briefly and smiled to himself in a decidedly dark and unpleasant fashion.
“I remember quite distinctly trying to club him to death for telling me what to do with my life. But he stuck with it, and took time each day to come to me and speak with me. Me, nothing more than an ex-Guardian. An Exile. It didn’t occur to me until later that anyone is only ever an Exile by their own choice. The title is just something given to you, a name that you learn to let go of.”
The Prince didn’t know how he felt about this, and his face must have shown his thoughts, for Tomaz held up his hands in mock defense.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to turn you,” the big man rumbled, smiling. “You asked what helped me get through it, and I’m simply telling you.”
The Prince nodded, but said nothing.
They lapsed into silence for the next few days, barely speaking more than a word to each other, each lost in their own thoughts. Every morning when the Prince woke up he reached through the Talisman and felt the surrounding forest for signs of pursuit, but no matter how far he reached, he felt nothing but the muted background of forest life.
One day when he opened his eyes and let go of the Talisman, he found the girl watching him. For a moment she just looked at him, and then she spoke:
“Anyone following us?”
The Prince hesitated before responding, trying to see if she was going to mock him, or in some way degrade him for using the Talisman. But she looked simply curious.
“No,” he responded. “There hasn’t been anyone since we left Banelyn.”
“I’m not surprised,” she responded casually. “This is the kind of area only very dedicated hunters or foresters come to. We’re lucky, in spring and early summer this forest is downright homey. But during winter and autumn, it’s miserable. Either covered entirely in snow, or else pouring buckets and buckets of rain down on your head. We caught it right on the cusp, and if we’re lucky we’ll be around Lake Chartain before the rains really get here.”
The Prince slowly realized that she was trying to have a genuine conversation with him, and was so taken aback t
hat he spoke hastily. He had heard of such things: talking about the weather was a way the Commons apparently passed time.
“Oh - you - yeah. Yeah, the weather is good. I hope it holds.”
A brief smile crossed her face, and he felt his cheeks burn. But she made no comment, only continued the conversation.
“Indeed. By the time we get to Lake Chartain we should run into a few more people. That area is more accessible, and there’re a few dirt roads that lead up to the Lake itself. I know that there are a few of the more adventurous High Blood who live around the lake, up in the mountains, for hunting. We’ll have to keep a look out for them. Though, chances are we’ll have to go around the east side of the Lake, since there’ll be no one there. Maybe a hermit or two, but no one else is crazy enough to live in that miserable stretch of bogs and swamps.”
The Prince, realizing that this might be the longest non-threatening exchange of words he’d ever had with her, was listening with rapt attention and outright fascination. And then something occurred to him - how was it that her teeth were so white? And her hair always looked combed and, if not washed, at least taken care of.
“How do you do that?” he asked suddenly. She looked up at him in confusion, and he quickly explained himself.
“Your teeth - and your hair. They look good. How do you keep them clean?”
She smiled at him; it was the first real smile he’d seen from her, and he was dazzled. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about how often lately he seemed to be unsure of his feelings.
“Here,” she said, and reached into her pack, “take this.”
She tossed a few things in his direction, and he snagged them from the air in surprise. There were two whittled things - one that had many teeth and one that had a flat bit at the end. The other items she tossed him included a small pouch, half full of some sort of liquid, and a bag with some sort of white powder in it.
“You’re lucky I have extras. The one with the teeth is a comb - you know what a comb is, yes?”
The Prince nodded at her as if such a thing was obvious, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember how the groomers in the Fortress had styled his hair. He’d never had to pay much attention to it. He supposed he’d try to go off on his own at some point and figure it out, or perhaps catch her using it and learn by imitation.
“The flat piece is a brush. You squeeze some of the cream from the pouch onto it, shake out some of the powder - it’s called baking soda, and it’ll feel strange at first, but soon you’ll get used to it - and scrape your teeth with the wood piece. There’s a small combed bit at the other end you can use to get in between the gums. Careful not to go too hard though, or you might start bleeding and then I’ll have to hold you down while Tomaz sews you back together, and really the whole thing will be no fun for anyone.”
She paused and smiled at him again.
“Just ‘cause your chest is black from that Talisman, doesn’t mean your teeth need to be after all.”
“Right,” the Prince. “At least I can do something about my teeth, though. The Talisman … it’s right that it’s black. There’s nothing good about it … no light can come from such a thing. This is a curse, that’s all,” he said, fingering the deeply etched lines on his upper chest. They had never felt more like bonds then they did now - holding him to a life he no longer wanted and making him a target for the entire Empire.
“Nothing is inherently cursed, princeling,” Leah said. The Prince was struck again by how strangely talkative she was, and realized that she had seemed generally happier as time went by, as if this solitude suited her, and the more time she spent traveling through the forest the more energy she absorbed from the silence.
“This is,” he replied, trying to smile but failing halfway through.
“Then choose to do something about it,” the girl said, slightly exasperated, but still trying to be reasonable. She looked out into the forest, picking her words carefully as she continued. “Look, I don’t understand how the Talisman works, I don’t understand what it feels like to use it. But if you’re convinced there is no good that it can be put to, then stop using it. Just remember this, it’s something my father always told me when he was teaching me how to fight: a sword isn’t bad because it’s pointy, and a shield isn’t good because it’s blunt. Both can be used for offense, and both can be used for defense. What matters is always, always the person who wields it. You were born into this, I know, and you’ve been made a weapon of the Empire, one that they’ve decided is no longer of any use to them, so now you are your own weapon. You have a choice now. You have power, you have a sword so to speak, a sword unlike anyone else has. What matters is what you use it for.”
She turned to look at him, and the Prince found himself drawn into her green eyes. Green like the sun through the forest canopy.
“What matters is who you are,” she said.
The Prince, thinking this over and trying to find a flaw in her logic, trying to see how she was deceiving him like the Children and the Empress always said the Exiled did, didn’t respond, and that was the last they spoke for the rest of the day. But as he went to sleep that night, wrapped in his deerskin, warm and well fed on the meat and roots the Exiles had gathered, next to a cunningly built fire that was both strong and somehow nearly smokeless, the Prince could only admit that what she said made sense.
And as he admitted this to himself, he felt guilt and shame begin to boil up to the surface of his mind. If any of the other Children could see him now, here, taking the charity of the Exiled and agreeing with them … this was a slippery slope. Soon he would be planning the destruction of the lives of everyone in the Empire. He’d be trying to wreak havoc on the lives of the Commons, who were only protected by the grace of the Empress.
And then something else occurred to him, what the girl and Tomaz had said about anger being his best, most loyal friend. And on a whim he reached out to his anger, and found it waiting, like a well-trained dog, and suddenly his head filled with all the terrible things that had been done to him, all of the injuries he’d suffered, both before and after his kidnapping, at the hands of his brothers and sisters … and his Mother.
He was angry, and in his anger the guilt and shame of not doing what they wanted or thought was right burned up and disappeared. And he found that he was tired, and what he wanted to do was to go to sleep. And so, peacefully, he did.
And the next day, when he woke, he did not reach out through the Talisman to feel the forest around him. He made a silent promise to himself that he would not use the Raven again, though a part of him, a very small part in the back of his mind, told him that Leah had spoken sense about this as well. But for now, in his anger, he decided to forego using it altogether.
Soon, as the days passed, it was as though a shadow that had lain on his heart ever since he could remember had been lifted, and he was just a young man, traveling through the forest with his two companions. He began to speak more freely with the two Exiles, sharing memories with them. At first, he was reluctant, because he thought they might ask for important information about the Empire, that they might be doing this all along so that they could get information out of him. And in the end, he knew they did want that. He knew that they would take any information he would give them, and store it in the back of their minds. And he knew too that if he finished the journey with them, that he would find their leaders, and would be made to talk.
But for now, here in this seemingly endless forest, he let those thoughts and worries go, and found he truly did enjoy the company of these two Exiles … these two people. His brightening mood, coupled with Leah’s newfound smiles, made for an infectious aura of laughter. Leah continued to needle him, teasing him about this or that, but for the first time he realized that she did it in good fun, and after a while he was able to score a point or two back against her, to uproarious applause by the always-ready-for-a-good-time Tomaz.
On one of these days, when they sto
pped in the early afternoon while the sun still shown through the trees above and the sounds of birds calling to each other filled the glades with music, the Prince pulled out his deerskin. He’d thought long and hard about it for a few days, and in the end he decided to make something simple.
He stretched the hide out, smelling the deep, leathery scent that reminded him intensely of Tomaz, and drew his dagger. First, he cut an oblong hole in the center. He pulled out Tomaz’s needle and thread, and was about to sew the cut out piece to the top of the hole in order to make a hood, when the big man came over and stopped him. He looked at what the Prince was doing, nodded once, and said, “do it this way.”
He demonstrated what he thought the Prince should do, first making a few stitches along the inside of the cut-out flap, and then using extra pieces of the deerskin to make the whole thing more flexible. Finally, the Prince got the idea, took the needle and thread, and sewed himself a hood.
He picked up the garment, shook it out, and threw it over his head. It fell down, long in both the front and back, almost to his knees, and about halfway down his ribs on either side. The hood he’d attached was easy to pull up or down, and, most importantly, the thing was warm and wouldn’t fall off. It was simple, and inglorious, and the Prince loved it.
“A drape-over?”
He turned and saw Leah watching him. The Prince felt Tomaz’s hand encompass his shoulder.
“Certainly is,” said the big man.
The girl eyed it critically, and then nodded. The Prince felt a soaring feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Looks good actually. I think the proportions would have been wrong for anything else anyway. How does it feel?”
“Warm,” the Prince responded simply. Tomaz chuckled.
“Well, that’s the most important thing,” he said, and then turned away to start prepping a fire and pull out strips of smoked venison.
Their journey continued, and as it did there were a few nights when, restless, the Prince and Tomaz would spar. The first night, Tomaz had thought he was joking.
“Princeling, I’m sorry but I could break you in two just by looking at you.”
“Then prove it,” the Prince said, adding a biting, taunting twist to the words that he had learned from Leah. She laughed as he said it.
“Fair enough,” the ex-Blade Master said as he rose to his feet. “But no blades. We can use staves if you want to find some likely looking logs, or practice swords if you can find some good branches.”
So, after some searching, they found both. And, as predicted, the Prince was soundly beaten at both competitions.
“Again!” he said, after being knocked down by the big man’s staff. He could already feel bruises forming on his arms and legs where the wood had struck him, but he was ready for more. It felt good to be active. The cuts on his wrist, and the wounds he’d received from the Death Watchmen, had all healed well, and he felt whole. He had been too long away from the practice yard, anyway - he knew that he was in desperate need of a tune up. And so, obligingly, the big man readied himself once more. Most every night found them at it again, and though the Prince struck the big man a number of times, he never landed a serious blow with either staff or sword. Tomaz, though big as a small hill, was faster than the Prince had predicted, and never tired. It seemed as though he could move forever. He reminded the Prince vaguely of a combination of his brother Ramael and his sister Dysuna. Ramael, the Prince of Oxen, had a similar build and, bearing the Ox Talisman, could perform feats of strength that would awe the Common man, while his sister Dysuna, the Prince of Wolves, never rode a horse because she could run the length of the Empire without stopping for food or rest.
Leah, however, refused to spar.
“Why not?” the Prince said, still trying to figure out the ins and outs of taunting. “Are you poultry?”
“Chicken,” she corrected him, “am I chicken.”
“Yeah,” he said, “well are you?”
“Sure, princeling,” she said, too sweetly. “You tell yourself whatever you need to so that you can fall asleep with your manhood intact.”
And throughout it all, their march south through the Empire, the Prince held onto his anger, and slowly, as the girl had predicted, it began to eat away and dissolve the other thoughts he held, the other things he was keeping inside himself. And as time continued to pass, hope grew in him that he might be able to escape his captivity and free himself from the Empire entirely. They made camp a day outside Lake Chartain that night, and he fell asleep completely at peace for the first time that he could remember in far too long.
When he woke, it was to find a Defender of the Realm holding a sword to his throat, silhouetted against the rising sun.