Inked

19

Mo and Dustfinger rode in silence for a good while. There was nothing to say. After all, they had just left their families to go on yet another secret and perilous quest, so neither was in the mood for small talk.

Mo was running the plan over and over again in his mind. How when they reached the borders of Argenta, Dustfinger would sneak around to the forest behind the castle while Mo would claim to be a loyal traveller ready to fight for Her Ruthlessness's cause. How he would cut the hair on his head while letting the hair on his face grow as much as possible. How Mo would train with other volunteer soldiers and relay messages to Dustfinger who would, in turn, deliver them to Violante. How he would try his hardest not to draw attention, not to get caught, not to die.

A cheerful mission, really.

The horses heard the noises before Mo and Dustfinger did. They were on the very edges of Ombra now, so it was impossible to guess the origin of the people making their way through the kingdom. Thankfully they were hidden by a small outcropping of trees. For now.

The strangers' voices were getting closer. They were coming this way. Mo raised his boot to speed his horse along, but Dustfinger placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "Act natural," he whispered, and Mo almost laughed. They were the two most wanted men in all the land. No matter how natural they acted, someone was sure to recognize them.

"Are you sure?" Mo began to ask, but Dustfinger shook his head to quiet him, sending a couple sparks flying. There was no way they could possibly look normal.

The horses continued at their easy pace, and for a moment Mo thought they would not be spotted. His optimism was dashed when an unfamiliar voice called out, "You there! Halt!" The horses obeyed the command before Mo and Dustfinger could repeat it. Mo spared Dustfinger a glance but could not see his eyes for his dark hood. He was not sure whether they would be talking or fighting their way out of this one; it really could go either way, depending on how kindly fate wanted to treat them.

It seemed an eternity before two men came around in front of them. They were dressed in normal clothes, but from their confident postures and commanding auras, Mo knew they had to be Devondria's soldiers. "How can we help you, gentlemen?" Mo asked, not infusing too much politeness in his tone so as not to seem suspicious. Being rude and on edge is conspicuous, but so is being too friendly.

Wasting no time with formalities, one of the men, the younger-looking of the two, barked, "Where are you men going? Travel between Ombra and Argenta is not very common these days." Their eyes stayed glued to Mo and Dustfinger, not allowing them any chance for discreet communication.

There was an awkward silence in which Mo wondered if he was supposed to speak first, or if Dustfinger wanted to handle the situation. Both soldiers raised their eyebrows almost simultaneously, waiting for an answer. Mo cleared his throat. "I'm going to Devondria's castle. I want to help her fight for the throne of Ombra. Violante is but a child. Her Ruthlessness deserves to have the kingdom handed over to her."

Another silence followed, in which the soldiers seemed to be analyzing Mo's story and Mo began to wonder if maybe he had laid it on too thick. Mo could feel heat radiating off of Dustfinger, knowing the fire-eater was planning to attack if things didn't go their way, and Mo's fingers began inching towards his boot, where a knife was hidden. All of his muscles tensed, ready to fight, and he could see, out of the corner of his eye, Dustfinger's hands practically glowing through the fabric of his cloak.

"All right," the younger soldier said. "So you want to fight for Her Ruthlessness?" Mo nodded. "Well, then, we'll take you to her." The man's eyes glinted, waiting for them to refuse the escort, to change their story, to confirm their suspicions. But Mo only smiled.

"Wonderful. Thank you." The men eyed him for a moment before turning and making their way toward the palace in the distance, the horses automatically following them. Mo looked over at Dustfinger, almost laughing in relief. Dustfinger coughed, and a puff of smoke drifted out and up into the air. Just one more second and the soldiers in front of them would have been dead. Or Mo and Dustfinger would have been dead. Either way, infiltrating the castle would have been much more complicated. Now they could simply walk right in. Fate had decided to treat them kindly today. What a nice change.

"Say, don't I know you two from somewhere?" the younger soldier, who seemed to be doing all the talking, questioned. Mo's blood froze in his veins, and surely Dustfinger's would have too if his body temperature weren't so high. Mo formed his expression into one of confusion.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. We are but simple farmers." Mo shrugged and the men shrugged too, continuing the path to Her Ruthlessness's castle. Mo breathed another sigh of relief. Fate really enjoyed playing with them, but at least this time it was letting them win.