Fate Bound

part 3 chpt 11

Just two miles North of the town of Glassea stood the magnificent Forest Silva, home of shadows and creatures of the darkest tales.

One either had to be very brave, foolish, or well-prepared to enter it, for there was no guarantee of getting out.  The town’s residents knew well enough not to venture into its dark depths, having grown up with many horrid tales retold by the dim firelight on a cloudy night.

But there would always be someone who inadvertently enters.

Henry Bastir was starting to regret his decision very much. But he had had no other choice; the King’s Guards were closing in on him. He had escaped to Glassea, to seek refuge in its quiet streets and hoped that it was remote enough to be overlooked.

He had been bringing in new firewood for Cook to feed the stove before the evening crowd came when he’d heard the raised voice of Cook, words sharp and caustic, much unlike his usual passive demeanor. When he’d peered round the kitchen doorway, he immediately saw the golden gleam of a badge; a lion, upright, with its right paw on the hilt of an embedded sword – the King’s royal insignia.

Henry wasted no time packing; he grabbed his ever-ready bundle of supplies, his cloak, his crossbow, and had set off on a hurried pace through the back roads to exit the town. He had stood silent at the edge of the town, at its very gates, breathing in deeply, counting his breaths.

On the tenth exhale, he’d breathed out heavily, hoisted his bundle higher up his shoulder and strode off into the shadowed trees of Forest Silva. Never once did he look back.

Now, he cast fearful glances around at the thick foliage that surrounded him with every step.  

At one point he’d thought he might have a chance of surviving Forest Silva. Now, as another shadow darted overhead and out of the corner of his eye, he had the sense of a teeny tiny mouse, being taunted by an unseen predator.

Henry’s throat was parched despite the cool air of the forest. He felt another bead of sweat roll down his neck to soak his shirt. Ever since he entered Forest Silva, he’d noticed was how unnervingly quiet it was.

He paused in his tracks. So what was that low rumble he was hearing? It was awfully familiar – dare he hope…? Henry powered forward, pushing through thick green ferns and leaves, till suddenly, he burst out into bright sunlight. Just ten paces from him was a furiously gushing river, the water crystal clear as it rushed east downstream in a huge roar.

Henry barely registered dropping his bundle before he plunged his face into the strong currents. The strong splash of icy cold water was a refreshing wakeup call for him. With a gasp, he raised his head and rubbed a tired hand over his face as he rethought his current situation.

Snap.

Henry jerked his head up, his hand finding his crossbow cocked and aimed before registering the size of the creature facing him. It looked like a relative of the canine lupus but that size… Henry’s breath caught, as heavy certainty settled in the pit of his stomach at the steady intelligence he saw in those pale eyes. An Ancient. He gaped at the being, insurmountable fear and awe holding his body in place.

Movement attracted his attention to the right of the Ancient. A small lad, who seemed barely of age, had one hand resting on the Ancient’s flank and was peering warily at him with wide brown eyes.

“Swear on what is important to you to not attack us and we will promise not to either.”

The boy’s voice was surprisingly soft but clear above the roar of the river. Henry lowered his head in a slow nod, and swore upon his name.

 “I swear upon the line of Bastir not to attack unless provoked.”

Long moments passed before the boy gave a decisive nod, and suddenly crumpled down to the ground with a tired sigh. Henry received another surprise when the Ancient nudged the young lad gruffly with what could almost be mistaken as rough affection.

“Fine, fine, might as well. If I fall in, it’s your fault.” The boy pushed off the ground with some difficulty, trudged over to the river, kneeled, and then proceeded to drink with the voraciousness of a starved man. Henry felt his eyebrow lift, as he finally noticed how the boy’s muscles trembled in effort to support him. Impressive. The boy had hid his weakness well, for a person on the verge of exhaustion.

A growl interrupted his thoughts, sending new fearful ones buzzing through his head as a pair of icy blue eyes pierced him. Henry swallowed, quickly schooling his thoughts before the Ancient.

“So, Mister.” The boy was now sitting cross-legged, blue shirt slightly drenched, and seemed to measure Henry with young solemn eyes containing a little wry humor.

 “What do you say to an agreement?”

(i decided to post another chapter. actually i purposely keep the chapters i post here a few back then the ones in my word doc so i can reread and edit before posting...but shall be nice and give (if any) my readers somemore to , well, read. )