Luminous

20 - Play Possum

"What in the three lands—"

Meya raised her head and cast her eyes about her. Solid darkness. Arinel's cold, sweaty hand was still in hers; she gripped it tighter.

Sounds of violent impact echoed from the hill; body on body, body on blade, body on cudgel, body on earth. Voices human and canine chorused into a chaotic din. Which one person she knew had a fondness for military dogs?

Padded paws scampered towards them. Damp nostrils reeking of rotten meat puffed air on her cheek. The nose withdrew, then the creature barked in earnest. Human feet waded hurriedly through the grass to its call. A clammy, spider-like hand slapped Meya's behind. Meya bit back a scream.

"Ari? Ari, you alright?"

He whispered, his cold, trembling hands patted her up and down, trying to find her face. Meya hardly believed her ears. Relief flooded her, turning her limbs to putty after the intense life-or-death thrill. Her eyes burned; she struggled in vain to staunch them.

He came for her. Didn't think he would but he did.

"Coris! Oh, Freda!" Meya gasped. Coris tugged her into a brief hug. Remembering those she left behind, Meya pulled apart, "I got Meya here, but your family—I'm sorry—I didn't—"

"It's alright. You did well." Coris consoled her, brusque with stress. He ushered a thick leather strip into her hand, "Follow Patch to Christopher. Zier's awake?"

Meya blinked. Perhaps she should save the wondering for later,

"No. I was sawing through his ropes. He didn't budge an inch—"

The words had barely left her mouth when Coris took off like the wind.

"Where are you going!? You can't see a thing!" Meya hollered after him, gripped with cold fear.

"Meya, we're useless here. Let's go get his men." Arinel whispered urgently. Patch tugged on her sleeve. Biting her lips, Meya scrambled up on all fours, crawling after the pull of the leash while Arinel held on to the hem of her dress.

After some agonizing minutes blundering in solid darkness, came the sound of flowing water. Meya's palms slapped onto damp, sloping soil. Something huge extricated itself from the water. A dripping-wet hand grabbed her arm.

"Coris? No—Who's this?" The voice was male and young, not entirely strange but not that familiar either; Sir Christopher.

"It's Arinel. And my maid, Meya." Meya panted. The hand withdrew. The strike of a match rented the air. A lamp sprang to life, its wavering light casting a yellowish-brown glow upon Christopher's handsome face.

Meya blinked, disoriented. Once her sight had settled, she blushed furiously. The circle of light revealed dozens of soldiers wearing their bare skins. They lay on the rocky bed of the shallow rapids, their faces just breaking the surface, concealed behind the riverbank to those on the hill.

Christopher himself crouched behind a large boulder, revealing only his upper half. It wasn't like Meya wanted to see his lower half, though.

The soldiers fidgeted under the water. Some creaked out sheepish, shivering grins at her and Arinel. Meya decided she should focus on Christopher and allow them some privacy.

"My lady, forgive our immodest state. We need to keep our clothes dry or they'll slow our movements." Christopher explained in a rush, "Thank Freda you're safe. Where's Coris? And the Baron? Still asleep?"

The name snapped Meya back to her fretting self,

"Yes. And that dunghead Coris—he just ran off! I'm sorry, I've no idea how to—I shouldn't have let him—" Meya stumbled over her words, shame and desperation burning in her chest.