Chapter 22: Opportunities
As Dal looked out at the landscape before him, he couldn't help but feel a pinch of temptation. Having returned to the Summerglades once more, he wondered if the next two to three days of the four-day ride might be the only window to escape he would ever again have.
If I make it to the capital, I'll never manage to leave. Ever.
For the past six hours, he'd been traveling horseback on a mostly flat stretch of open, sunny terrain, but all throughout, he had kept his eyes focused in the distance to his left as well as to his right, where lines of trees led to the Aoroka and Cheska forests, respectively. Each was filled with its own hazards—but they were massive, and someone could very easily disappear within them if they so desired. The dual forests were so large, in fact, that they spanned the entire journey from Bradford to Port Lewn, a mid-sized town that would serve as the final stop before reaching Freewind.
I could hide for weeks in there. Months, if I had to.
Supposedly, the Aoroka and Cheska forests were actually once a singular forest that had become split around a thousand years ago after a fire burned out the middle, but to Dal, it made no difference, as either one of them could bring him freedom. The only question would be whether or not he could actually reach them, and if the risk might not be too high to be worth taking.
If I can somehow shove Rethi off the horse without hurting her, I can bring it into a gallop and make a mad dash for the forest. As long as I can get anywhere near the trees, I can vanish inside. But…no, what am I thinking? That'll never work.
Dal sighed. Even though all he'd have to do was get to either tree line, such a task would prove almost impossible. Even putting aside the fact that the war-horses ridden by Master Churbud and Lord Ashmere were faster than his gelding, the two men themselves could be faster than the war-horses if need be. Dal knew from his own experience that Dragon Knights and Paladins could travel at speeds of up to three times what a horse was capable of for short, intense bouts. Even a Knight or a Templar could likely double a racehorse's top speed for a minute or so if it was truly required. Thus, if Dal tried to flee, they would catch him.
And then he'd be put in a terrible position.
Now, as though she were reading his thoughts, he heard the sound of Rethi chuckling behind him. "You're thinking about running off to one of the forests, aren't you, Dal? That's why you keep staring back and forth at them."
Dal grunted but said nothing in reply to her. Nevertheless, she wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist and placed her chin on his back. This caused Jona to stare over his shoulder from where he rode near the front of the formation and snarl at Dal.
"Master Churbud," he said.
"Yes, Jona?"
"I think Dal and Rethi should ride separately. You should ride with Dal to make sure he doesn't escape, and Rethi should ride with me instead."
"Hm? Jona, enough nonsense. Let us have a pleasant ride, please."
"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, facing forward again.
Rethi laughed and whispered into Dal's ear, "That boy gets so jealous."
This was yet another remark Dal didn't bother replying to, as he found the entire interaction to be ridiculous. Rethi clearly saw Jona as a sort of cute little brother, and Jona was too young to understand that. Though only four years separated them, the gap between fifteen and nineteen was enormous. It was in some ways even more significant than the gap between Dal and Rethi, although that, too, was still outside the norms of conduct.
But Rethi didn't seem to think so, and to make matters worse, she somehow knew exactly what buttons to push. Dal didn't even understand why she was so insistent on teasing him. Rethi was considered one of the most attractive and alluring females in Ostros. Men would probably willingly duel to the death to catch her affection. Yet she seemed to be devoting an inordinate amount of time on making Dal squirm.
And Dal, for his part, may have been alive for almost fifty years, but his body had not seemed to age, and so his hormones, reflexes, and desires were those of a much, much younger man. For this reason, he found it almost unbearable as Rethi chuckled in his ear, her red hair tickling the back of his neck as she lowered her hand and traced her index finger over the trousers covering his right thigh.
"Enough," he said, a bead of sweat gliding down his forehead that he doubted was from the heat.
She snickered mischievously. Then, with an obviously forced, innocent tone of voice, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"You know," he said back to her.
"Do I?"
Dal made a frustrated grunt then tried his best to focus all of his attention on the road ahead. At the moment, their eight horses were riding single-file along a narrowing dirt pathway that provided the smoothest-possible path forward. Based off memory, once they were about a day's ride from the city—and half a day's ride from Port Lewn—there would eventually be several wide, paved roads that would allow the horses to spread out a bit.
And it would be upon reaching that point that it would likely be too late to escape.
No, if Dal was to escape, it had to be in the next forty-eight hours. And escape, he must. Because even if he was wrong, and even if the prince and the others were correct about the kind of treatment he'd receive, it still wouldn't be what Dal wanted. It would still be a prison nonetheless.
A prison with beds made of feathers and silk is still a prison just the same.
Loosening his grip on the reins, he trusted in his gelding to follow the path, and he allowed his mind to drift off as the hours counted down and noon turned to evening, then evening turned to night. Now, at the end of their first day of travel, Master Churbud came to a halt just ahead. Though Dal couldn't actually see him amid the darkness, he could easily spot the glow of his lantern, just as he could the lanterns held by Denin and Lord Ashmere.
"We'll camp here tonight," Master Churbud said, hopping down from the side of his horse. Now, the glow of his silver armor reflected off the golden lamplight, and Dal could see that he was still wearing a hearty smile on his face.
Behind him, he heard the sound of shuffling as the prince slid off the side of his horse, and Lord Ashmere dismounted as well. Turning around at the feeling of a tap on his shoulder, Dal could just see Rethi's grin in the scant moonlight.
"Help us set up the tents," she said cheerfully. Then, dropping her voice into a sultry whisper, she added, "If you do, you can share one with me."
Dal rolled his eyes. "You'd better stop asking me to do things like that," he said to her.
"And why's that?"
"Because, Rethi. At some point, I'm going to lose the ability to keep saying no."
"I'll take that as a challenge then."
He exhaled, slowly. This was yet another reason he needed to get out of here. And perhaps, an opportunity would present itself tonight. In fact, this might be the best chance of all, because if he escaped during dark, he wouldn't even need to make it to the tree line. Literally just a few dozen yards would be all he'd have to venture in order to lose them for good, as he'd be practically invisible.
Yes.
That was what he'd do. Tonight. He was escaping tonight. He swore it to himself. He promised it: a vow he made with all the certainty in the world. Tonight, he was escaping—and then he would be free.
******
"Grolm, is that him?" whispered Varlorn.
Grolm nodded. "Yeah, that's him all right. Matches the description exactly."
All day long, he and Varlorn had been tracking the guy, who somehow, through some means, had gotten mixed up with fucking Prince Alain of all people. That definitely complicated things. Honestly, they should've called this off. Boss would understand. Boss wouldn't want them pissing off the royal family.
But Varlorn was being stubborn.
Now, as the light of their campfires illuminated their faces, Grolm could say with absolute certainty that the man they'd been tracking was right there with the prince and his company. Still, there wasn't exactly much they could do about it. And the fact that his description matched was actually terrifying due to what it implied.
"I'm identifying him as a "Goat Castration Specialist," Varlorn said. Grolm could hear the edge that abruptly popped into his words. "That means the townspeople weren't batshit after all. I don't understand how this is possible, but…it appears he can change somehow."
"Are we sure about that?" Grolm asked. "Maybe he just got lucky."
"Naw, that's him all right. And he's dangerous. Very, very dangerous."
Grolm made a slight chuckle. "He's the least of our worries. It's the people he's with we should be afraid of. Look, man, there's nothing we can do. We need to let him go."
"Like hell," Varlorn growled. "That son of a bitch killed five of our brothers. Butchered them, Grolm. Like they were nothing. Boss was very clear: we bring him in alive, and we take our time. Make him feel everything."
"I get it, I get it, but Varlorn, he's traveling with a legendary Dragon Knight and an even more legendary Paladin. Not to mention the prodigies with him. Even if we stormed that camp with every marauder in Ostros, we'd die before we got within twenty feet of him."
Amid the darkness, he could just see Varlorn gritting his teeth and hear the sound of him grinding them together. "That son of a bitch…I can't let him get away with what he did. I just can't."
"Your brother was in that pub. Right?"
"Yup."
"Well, how about you and me head over there and burn it down, then. We'll take it out on the townspeople instead."
"Bah, I already did. Burned the whole town down. I still want more blood. I want the motherfucker who did it."
Grolm sighed. "Best we can do for now is watch him. Maybe if he slips away to piss or something, we can grab him. But don't get up to anything foolish."
"I know, asshole. I'm not a moron."
"Just checking."
Lying prone and concealed in brush, Grolm continued to watch—and wait. If the opportunity arose, he would pounce. Otherwise, Volorn would just have to accept that not every fish could be reeled in—no matter how badly you wanted it.