Valiant

Chapter 43: Fealty

Sitting astride Vindr with the masked woman wearing a rope necklace, I finally have a moment to let my thundering heart catch up to me. The three guardsmen had lost us when I caught up with my horse, and I had managed to gallop out the eastern gate, aiming straight towards the woods. Baelik stretches before me, and the sun beams down behind me, but I dare not tell Vindr to slow. Anyone with ears could've heard the long cry of the prison horn. Scarlet Cloaks would now be flooding the walls behind me, and with any luck, one of them would see a black stallion carrying two wanted fugitives directly towards the woods.

I still cannot tell if the woman seated across my lap is Lilly or not. They have the same, tanned skin, the same body structure, and a similar, wiry grip upon my forearms, and something within me thrums while holding her. Something that tells me that I know this girl. And yet, there are differences as well. The main one is how stiffly she sits, absorbing every shock and bump of the gallop into her hips and shoulders. Her scent is common- a cheap perfume worn by servants intermingled with sweat and the acrid tang of fear. She has said not a word since her monologue against the prince and the people, so I can no longer make the distinction in my mind of what her voice sounded like.

The trumpets behind me tickle my ears through the vast, rushing mantra of hooves on grass, and there is the impression of commotion at the city walls. A yipping howl reaches me next, and my stomach drops again. Hounds. They've set out the damn hounds. Swearing foully under my breath, I dig my heels into Vindr's sides, spurring him onward.

The forest beckons me coldly- challenging me into its expanse. Waiting to swallow me whole. So, into the wild I sprint, never slowing for the scratch of twigs and the snapping of branches above my head. The hounds are gaining; I can hear their excited calls echoing back and forth. Vindr is snorting heavily between my thighs, and his head is dipping as he strides forward. He's getting tired, I realize. My heart drops into the soles of my boots as I hear the leaves crunch behind me. The hounds have entered the forest.

Then, suddenly, a whistle sounds among the trees, calling out to me. A glance to my right reveals a familiar, glowing mass of white locks spilling out of a hood. The woman steers her horse in front of me, and spurs him on deeper between the trees. Throwing caution to the wind, I kick my stallion off in her direction. Left she leads me, then right, twisting and curving into the woods, all the way to the river.

Yipping and snarling, the hounds bound after us; so close now that I can feel their heated, ravenous footsteps. A low, thundering roar now hangs about the air as well. The land dips and the river plunges downward into a valley. Vindr stumbles after the woman, but now a wall of earth rises on either side of us, about ten cubits in height, and twelve cubits wide. The mysterious woman barrels ahead of me, swiveling in and out of the river, and sending up a mist of spray. I rub the droplets out of my eyes, and kick after her, keeping my eyes locked upon her for all I am worth.

A sharp curve greets me next, and for a second I lose the woman. Vindr barrels along the river, and what I see dashes my hopes to pieces. I confront a divot to either side, a clearing of sorts. This bowled in by the walls of the valley, too steep to climb. And directly ahead, a waterfall.

About a twenty cubits high, with a lashing, misty cloud at the bottom, a wall of rushing white cages me in. I cannot go back. I cannot go around it. The dogs sound close enough to hit with a stone's throw. Solemnly, I withdraw the Sword of Dawn from my back, awkwardly encompassing its two-handed grip in one, shaking fist. Preparing to go down fighting.

Then, another whistle sounds , causing me to whip around. A hand pokes out of the white wall ahead, and then disappears back into the cascading, opaque torrent. A cave. There must be a cavern behind the waterfall. Without hesitation, I spur Vindr towards the water. Bless the horse, he hesitates for an imperceptible flash of time, and then plunges into the roaring wall.