Champion

Chapter 8: Information

Quoorin’s head blew back into his face, but he was too afraid to release him to move it. The speed the horses ran seemed impossible. When they began to slow, Quoorin would shout a word and the speed would pick up to the same impossible speed. The others seemed to do similar. Soon the sun had set, and the darkness covered the dirt road they rode upon. 

Zanian’s legs ached from squeezing them. His arms were no better off. The constant bouncing chaffed the inside of his legs, and he feared getting off the horse and trying to walk with the sores he could feel being created on his inner thighs. Knowing there was not much he could do, he held on.

After a good hour of riding, Valandil pulled ahead with Felicia and headed off the road into a forest. Quoorin pulled on the reins to follow them and slow down. Zanian was forced to duck under the low branches as they moved deeper into the forest. Up ahead, Valandil was helping Felicia off the horse.

“I think we should be good here for now,” Valandil said. Quoorin got off the horse, and then Zanian. Everyone else was quick to come through the trees and dismount. 

“Do you think the people in Kailee’s End will be okay?” Zanian wondered, “I...I don’t want them to get hurt because of me.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Quoorin replied after a long pause. The tone of his voice made it clear to Zanian that not even he believed his statement. 

Zanian sat on the ground and wrested his elbows on his lap. He then placed his head in his hands and moaned. All this was his fault because he didn’t go with the guards back at the camp. 

“Don’t blame yerself,” Torrim said, placing a large hand, with several calluses, upon his shoulder as if to comfort him. “We can’t ‘ave the Queen gettin ya, now can we? She seems to ‘ave a plan for ya. Which means bad news for the rest of us. If Kailee’s End got destroyed, it’s their own fault for not bein’ prepared.”

“That doesn’t make it seem better,” he replied. Another hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up to find Felicia giving him a warm smile.

“Come now, Zanian,” she smiled as he looked up. “It’s not your fault. It’s the queens.”

“Felicia has a point,” Septima chimed in. “She does not deserve to rule over Lorradin. She’s tried to exile the races that aren’t humans, and has begun to build her great army even greater. It’s no wonder our homes have begun to speak of war against her.”

The words of Septima were only partially acknowledged by Zanian. He seemed to be trapped in Felicia’s leaf green, slanted eyes. They were comforting and inviting. The smile she wore invited him to forget his troubles; This was something he gladly did for now. Trying to stand, he fell back to the ground from the pain of the sores. Now that his mind was no longer focused on Kailee’s End, there was nothing to distract it from the stinging pain.

“I can’t stand,” he moaned, lying on the ground and spreading his legs so nothing would touch his inner thighs. “It hurts too much. I hate horses!”

“Wuss,” Torrim insulted, slapping part of his inner thighs so he shrieked in pain. It ripped up his leg and seemed to shake his whole body. 

“That wasn’t very kind, Torrim,” Septima scolded, but a tone of laughter could be heard. 

“‘E’ll need to toughen up,” Torrim replied. “If a little chaffin’ sends ‘im to the ground like a child with a cut knee, Zanian won’t get far.”

“He has a point,” Lessien said.

“I can heal you,” offered Septima. “If you wish.”

“Or I can,” a mischievous tone danced on her words as Lessien proposed this.