Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 5 - SCHWARZVALD FOREST

  Matt ran as fast as his legs could carry him, scrambling up the craggy hillside behind his property until he could see the tree line of the Schwarzvald forest standing at attention in the distance like rows and rows of proud soldiers. Behind him he could hear the first of the guards beginning to reach the ruin of his farm; unintelligible conversation carried towards him on the wind, the din of voices amplified more than their words. After what could have been no more than a handful of sentences several horses galloped away from the farm, their hooves growing louder behind him. Chancing a glance over his shoulder his stomach churned as he saw several silhouettes growing closer. He was being followed. Had they already seen him? Quickening his pace as the riders struggled up the incline he scanned the area before him, searching for any physical landmark that could conceal him. Several rocky outcroppings jutted from the landscape, piled up from the ground in uneven stacks as if a giant had been playing with blocks. Holding his breath he dove behind the nearest one. During the day it would have been a terrible hiding place, in his haste to get behind the rocks he had failed to notice that it was among the smaller of the outcroppings, narrow, and little more than four feet tall. He prayed that in the darkness of the nearly moonless sky it would still do well enough to shield him from the view of his pursuers.

Waiting with his heart in his throat, barely permitting himself to breathe, Matt tucked his knees up to his chin, bending himself into the smallest shape he could manage behind the small pile of rocks where he had hidden. He could hear the riders drawing closer, whispered conversations growing louder, every gallop taking them closer to his hiding place. Surreptitiously he pulled his hood over his head, hoping it would keep his skin in shadow. A rock clattered past him, kicked up from under a horse's hoof that could not have come from more than a handful of feet behind him. He tensed further, if that was even possible, willing himself to remain absolutely still. The horse clopped up behind him, its head extending over the rock and above him, hot breath blanketing his body with the beast's every exhale.

Please don't look down, please don't look down.

Other horses came into view in his periphery; at least four in total making up the group. The others wandered parallel to the horse that stood above him. Too afraid to so much as turn his head, Matt could not discern the faces of any of the riders, unsure if the group consisted of any men that he had interacted with in his many years of traveling into Clearfield. His heart yearned to cry out for assistance, to see a recognizable figure ride to his aid; but Vincent had been so earnest and insistent that it was vital for him to escape without drawing their attention. He trusted the mustached merchant implicitly and if his friend believed that he would be safer the sooner and quieter he could manage, then that was what he would do. So he remained steadfast in his silence, suppressing all sound as staunchly as the boldest of malcontents accused the High King of suppressing the voices of his people.

How long is this horse going to stand above me?

What felt like an hour ground on, slow as molasses inching its way down the trunk of a tree as the rider remained motionless above him before at last it turned away stepping a few feet to Matt's left and towards its fellow searchers. He quietly allowed a small sigh to escape his mouth as he breathed in relief. The rider whirled at the slight sound, his eyes locking with Matt. A faint beam of moonlight fell upon the man's face, illuminating familiar features.

Joseph

His father's friend pushed back the hood of his cloak, his completely bald head shining like a beacon in the night. The man's intense brown eyes widened in confusion as their eyes met. He opened his mouth to speak but Matt shook his head vigorously, silently pleading for Joseph to not bring any attention towards him.

"Ask Vincent," he mouthed, not trusting a whisper to go unnoticed after the minuscule noise of his sigh drew Joseph's attention. Joseph squinted towards him, trying to read his lips in the faint light, his brow furrowing intently.