A Tale of Crown and Country

Castin

Castin was eager to get off as early as possible. He'd barely slept during the night, other than the few hours where exhaustion had won out. His mind raced as fast as his heart. So much had happened in so little time. When Obira and Yvid had stopped him from going after Reila he'd been angry enough to do it anyways. But that state of delirium had passed and he was thankful for his friends; going after the bandits would have been a terrible idea. Not only would it put him at risk, but Reila would be in more danger than ever. No, they had been right. It was smarter and safer to calm down first, to get reinforcements. Reila wouldn't have forgiven herself if he'd done something stupid like acting before thinking. Castin chuckled to himself. Actually, she'd probably chew his ear off about it before killing him herself.

    The walk back to Ilane was quiet and tense. Castin knew the Wairton siblings were wary of him. They trailed behind him, occasionally whispering to one another. Obira had to keep reminding him to stop and drink some water. It didn't matter if they got to Ilane before sunset if they were also exhausted and dehydrated. Castin would need to rest before he embarked on his journey back to Quaelsi.

    The whole walk he couldn't help but berate himself for what had happened. He had had the feeling something was off, that something bad was going to happen. As much as Reila had ignored him, he should have been resolute. It was his job to keep her safe and he had just failed spectacularly. He had no idea where she was, who those bandits were, and why they wanted her. It had seemed like the leader had recognized Reila, but that was impossible. He'd known her her whole life; she'd hardly left Quaesli let alone had the opportunity to chance upon an infamous gang of bandits.

    "It wasn't your fault," Obira said softly, coming up beside him.

    Castin knew he'd been obviously angry and morose, but he hadn't realized it was a problem. "Yes, it was," he said, steadfast in his opinion. Reila would say he was being ridiculous, that he wasn't thinking straight. That unless he'd been a member of the bandits and had told them of her location (for whatever reason) than he in no way played a part in the previous days' events.

    "No," Yvid argued. "You weren't. What would Reila say?" he asked knowingly.

    Castin chuckled. He'd just been over this. "She'd say I was being ridiculous and not thinking properly."

    "Exactly," he added. Castin could see how similar the two were. "It seems to save Reila you're going to have to think like her."

    "I was afraid of that," he mumbled to himself. But it was true. Well, sort of. He didn't necessarily need to think like her, he just needed to think.

    "Once you get back home, get some help, then you can start to help her. You're of no use to her right now."

    Castin wanted to argue that he could be helping her right now. He was sure they'd taken her in the direction of Aldira. Why a group of bandits would go straight to the capital was beyond him, but it wasn't out of the question. But arguing sure wasn't going to solve any problems. For the moment they needed to focus on getting to Ilane before nightfall.

    Obira and Yvid had offered their meagre savings for him to purchase a horse, but he'd adamantly refused. And they'd adamantly insisted. Finally, Obira had forced the coins into his hand. Castin felt bad taking their money but he'd realized he had no other way of paying for the mare. He reluctantly admitted to himself that he needed help, and that help was there, waiting for him.

    The horse Obira had procured for him was small and spindly. It looked sick and old, but it was within his price range, even when he knew the merchant was scamming them. It didn't matter: he needed to get back to Quaelsi as soon as possible.

    Castin spent the night back at the Wairton's aunt and uncle's house, tossing and turning under the blankets. The night air lay heavy in his lungs. With blankets on he was too hot, but without them he felt exposed and vulnerable. His dreams, this time being able to sleep from more than just exhaustion, passed in flashes of memory; of Reila, of the bandits; of the kidnapping; of the journey to Aldira. His mind wouldn't even let him imagine what was going on, wouldn't let him worry beyond what had already happened. He wasn't in control anymore. All he could do was control his own future, and hopefully that would lead him back to Reila.