A Questionable Quest

Chapter 19... in which something important happens... and then doesn't

I'd always imagined this was what a feather felt like, whenever one fell to the ground.

Weightless. Untouched by gravity or earth or anything else that might tether us to this world.

I grinned, and released the tension that had built up behind my shoulders. We fell in slow motion, two leaves and a breeze, towards the slowly-approaching ground. It felt wonderful.

At least, I realised as I looked over at my partner, it felt wonderful to me.

Van, on the other hand, held his sword in both hands, and squeezed his eyes so tightly together I was surprised they didn't just pop right out the back of his head. Needless to say, I didn't think he liked my method of escape very much.

Still, I grinned as I looked up at the window now about a dozen feet away. It worked. We were out.

And Avvenor didn't follow you. It was a discomfiting thought, but I didn't bother myself with it. As long as there were no magic swords pelting at us, or spells attacking us, the extra worrying didn't seem at all necessary.

We were now only about twenty feet from the ground. I nudged Van, who jolted as if he'd been stung. He cracked one eye open.

"We're almost there."

The prince managed a tight-jawed nod -- more a jerky head motion than anything else -- then squeezed his eyes shut again.

I turned away to watch the grass move up towards our feet.

Ten feet...

Eight...

Seven...

Four...

One...

We landed -- both of us stumbling ever-so-slightly. Van opened his eyes, one at a time, and looked up. "We made it." His tone was a mix of surprise, relief, and ill-concealed pain.

"Did you really doubt we would?"

"Yes." He paused, shifted his sword to his other hand, which had stopped trembling. "Not because of your skills, of course."

"Of course."

"Just that... it's heights... and I, well..." He waved helplessly, his bruised ego clearly making the words hard to form. Well, and the fact that both of his arms were covered in deep cuts.

"I know," I said, to save him from having to admit anything aloud. Knights, my brain sighed exasperatedly.

He nodded. After a moment, he said, "we should get under cover, just in case," with a glance up at the tower top. And then set off for the dense cluster of trees that led all the way back to the village.

I followed.

It wasn't long, however, before I noticed that he was walking slowly. And grimacing with each step. And still bleeding.

"Van, you're hurt." He didn't stop walking, and the look on his face was one of stubborn determination.

I'd seen that look before. It was the look of a knight who'd been beaten -- hard -- and didn't want help standing back up.

It was a stupid look, and if Van ever stopped walking, I would most certainly tell him so.

"Van. Donovan." That stopped him. "You're hurt." My voice was laced with something... something like panic. I'd never felt it before, and I didn't much like the feeling.