Braeland

Chapter 21. Middle Town

"We must rest and decide if it is time to turn east again," said Martin.  They had been marching through foothills and thorny shrubs, going west the whole time, with Mortimer in the lead.  

"I was hoping we would get to cleared land by now," Mortimer said.

That morning they had decided upon the need to act quickly before Priscilla returned with more soldiers than they could overpower with swords and mindspeak.  Their most likely direction would have been to follow the broken path east of the river and so attain Middle Town by late in the day.  She was sure to set up guards somewhere along that route, between the place where they camped in the night and the town.  So, they had decided to cross to the other side of the river.  It was some time before they found some rapids where there were rocks leading part across. Mortimer had been the first to go, and he had advised the others on the safest stones on which to stand.  He had to go in the water to rescue Lara when she slipped.  It was a close call.  The way along the western bank of the river looked impassible or it would, at least, have taken them double the time to get to Middle Town.  They had had a quick counsel on the next step.  Lara believed that northwest of them, some land was being cleared for farmland and a rumor of this had come to Mortimer as well.  Although Priscilla could move her troops from place to place in the search, this direction might confuse her enough that, if they were lucky, they could escape.  But, they had no food other than the few fall berries that were bitter to eat.  

Mortimer leaned back against a tree while Martin unwrapped the soggy bandage around Lara's hand.  "It still looks inflamed but I do not think it is infected.  I will wrap it in these last few aloe leaves I have brought with me.  There seem to be none that we have passed today," Martin said.  

"Lara, why did you help us?  You were in Priscilla's army and you risked your life," Mortimer queried.

Lara blushed.  "It was because Priscilla's beliefs on the future of Braeland were the exact opposite of those of my father who died defending our nation.  My grandfather informed me that Priscilla would betray us by making a secret pact with the Trokens."

"So he sent you to become a spy?  That seems a rash thing to do, risking the life of his granddaughter," said Mortimer.

"He did not approve of it and so I ran off to do it myself," Lara admitted.

"Do you not have an older brother that could have gone in your place?  You know that Priscilla has both men and women troops?" Mortimer continued to query.

Again, Lara blushed and she did not return an answer.

Martin spoke.  "You have an older brother."

"Yes."

"And his name is Mortimer," Martin said, just finishing the dressing of Lara's wound.

"What?  My mother died giving birth to me and that is one of the reasons that my father and then after him my grandfather went to search for Braeland, leaving me in care of my aunt.  From what I was told, he was soured on having liaisons with women. Surely he did not spread his seed when he found Braeland!" Mortimer said.

"My mother was one of the kindest and understanding of women in our nation.  She saw how hurt your father was and how he had come to distrust women.  She cured him.  We were a happy family, the three of us."

"Why do you say 'were,' Lara?"

"Because she was killed with an arrow during one of Priscilla's raids.  She was helping children get to a shelter."

"But I saw my grandfather.  He spoke of my father's death.  I thought it was for that reason he seemed grieved, and possibly also because of old wounds, ones that he had carried all the way from Ixoria.  And he did not speak of you.  Why is that?" Mortimer said.

"Our grandfather did not speak of me because he thought I was lost to him for good and he did not wish to exhibit his new grievances," 

Mortimer was silent for a long while and at last he said, "So we are bound as brother and sister."

"Yes, if that is what you want," answered Lara.

"I do."

"Now that is all settled, we had better move on, brother and sister leading the way," Martin said.   

They moved on as quickly as their tired legs and empty stomachs would let them go.  They found a creek, drank deeply and filled the one water bottle they had.  The land was becoming smoother and they could see what looked like farmland ahead of them.  By now, Priscilla must have figured out that they had chosen an alternate route and she would be searching here and so they were cautious and stuck to the edge of the wood where they could seek cover.  However, it was from behind them that voices came, and crashing sounds through the brush.  There was a troop following them, and no doubt with fresher legs.  

Martin led the way into the open land and began running, signaling to the others to follow them.  So far, they were not discovered but that soon changed.  Five soldiers, fleet of foot, broke out of the woods, spotted them and gave chase.  An arrow whizzed over Martin's head.  Another glanced off Mortimer's arm and his blood flowed.  Still they ran.  They hardly noticed that the land was changing and that now they were running in the stubble of a crop that had been taken off.  But this did not slow down the pursuers who were very close now.  "Mortimer, turn, we must face them!" shouted Martin.  

Mortimer and Lara came to a stop and they all soon surrounded by the six soldiers, three of them husky women and two large men.  "You have no business with us.  Return to where you came from," said Martin, reinforcing the message with mindspeak.  He knew that Mortimer and Lara were also throwing their powers into what he had said.  

Four of the soldiers felt a mist come before their eyes and they began to think they had made a big mistake.  But, a fifth looked unaffected, and she said, "Don't try that slippery wizardry on us or you will begin making a painful payment.  I have been trained since youth in mindspeak and I am a master of it.  You are under arrest and shall come with us."

"What if we refuse?" said Mortimer.

"Then two of you will die on the spot, you and the traitor over there who helped you escape."

"Now, why should I be spared?" said Martin calmly.  He was searching for time to think, perhaps by breaking through the mindspeaker's defenses somehow.  

"Spared for a time until the boss sees you.  Then if she throws you to me, I will gladly dispatch you.  Drawing and quartering is a playful sport.  But, enough blabber.  Move!"

But, just then, a horn blew and then another.  The sound of horse hooves soon followed.  Two of the soldiers ran off towards the woods but three of them still held their weapons and looked in the distance.  The soldier who had spoken lifted his sword and ran at Mortimer.  Mortimer defended the sword thrust with the dagger that he had removed from the guard at the prison but the strength of the blow knocked the weapon out of Mortimer's hand and wounded him as well on the wrist.  The soldier lifted the sword again but before he could bring it down a look of fear and pain came into his face and he fell heavily on top of Mortimer, Lara's knife buried deeply in his back.  Meanwhile Martin was mindspeaking with the two remaining soldiers: "Throw down your weapons or those men who are coming will kill you.  You will be treated fairly as prisoners."  The soldiers did drop their weapons but they ran off into the bushes, leaving Martin to think that his use of 'prisoners' was not the best word to use.  

As they pulled the body of the soldier off Mortimer, they were joined by the men on horseback.  Others came behind them waving pitch forks and spades.  None of them looked like soldiers.

"Who are you?" asked the one who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"We are friends of Braeland," Martin responded.

"Many make that claim in these days who are not friends.  What is your name?"

"Professor Martin Jamieson."

The leader raised his eyebrows.  "My name is Goodwine," he said.