Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
We make our escape at a full gallop. I don’t dare let go of the reins to wipe away the tears streaking my cheeks from the rushing wind in my face.
Whipping tendrils of my uncoiled hair flow behind me like a cape in the wind and my howl of freedom rings through the night like a wolf’s lonesome ode to the moon.
The strong muscles of my steed tighten and ripple with each leaping step as he gallantly carries me onwards on my rescue-turned-escape mission. We are a shadow in the waning moon light and I trust his senses to carry us safely on.
Only weeks ago I would have been terrified of being on the back of a horse this size, but now, after all I have experienced, I feel my courage taking shape and overpowering all fear in the name of rescuing my little sister.
I’m a badass!
I imagine myself swooping into the forest to save Marissa, and her stunned look at me riding in as her shining knight, like how we used to play make-believe with our father as children.
The outline of a forest starts taking shape in the distance and I urge my steed to slow his pace so we can scope out the place before busting in. My fantasy of charging in to play hero is probably not the best idea when wanting to confront a most likely lethally-trained rebel group.
Upon entering the tree line, I slide off the horse and unbuckle the sword from the saddle to strap it around my waist but notice the belt is massive.
Lillian must not have told Jacob who this horse was for but it makes no difference to me what tale she told, so I sling it across my chest instead and unsheathe the large sword.
It’s got some heft to it but I have practiced with heavy swords in the past to strengthen my arm enough so that the fencing epees would feel like air.
I feel ready to use it if necessary but take note that precision will be of the utmost importance so I don't tire too quickly.
I give it a few practice swipes and upon doing so, I notice the pommel has an intricate flame design and the letter P inlaid in gold.
Well if Pyralis’ brand doesn’t give away where I have come from then this sure will.
I grip the sword and crouch down, creeping my way into the forest, scanning for any signs of the rebels.
So far I am met with complete silence, not even a whisper of wind or creak of a cricket.
These woods don’t feel malicious like the Tanglewoods but they do have an ancientness about them, almost a sadness even.
I have the same feeling of being watched by the trees but don’t feel that they want to harm me.
I imagine they have observed hundreds of years of passing fae and creatures and would have some grand stories to tell as I marvel at their massive trunks and high reaching branches.
The ferns here are so huge that the unfurling fiddle heads are bigger than my fist and the moss is so squishy that in some patches my feet are swallowed whole.
I stop for a moment at the trunk of a colossal cedar to listen for any movement and look back through the trees towards where I had left my steed and can see another horse, identical to him, riding in from the direction of Pyralis’ estate.
Shit, that was too fast! How could they have known where I went? I wait to see if more have followed this figure but it appears to be alone, thankfully no vargs in sight. While they might be dumb, I still wouldn’t want to be caught having to fight off a pack of them.
I duck behind the tree, crouching down lower as I watch the cloaked figure dismount his horse. My steed whinnies in response and walks over to him and starts nuzzling his neck. Pfft traitor… The low rumble of a laugh echoes through the silent woods, wait a second…
I grab my sword and turn the pommel over to see a big letter E inlaid in gold on the other side, Embrys. I look back up at the cloaked figure and now recognize his build and gait. This is Embrys’ sword, and that must be Embrys’ horse.
Did Jacob not set that horse up for me? What happened to him and Lillian?
Did he refuse to help her? I wonder at the luck of Embrys’ horse still being saddled and ready to go, thinking perhaps he had had plans to leave that night anyway.
He is scanning the woods, so I duck back behind the tree to hide, peeking just my head out to see.
“Nuria!” Embrys calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“I have to bring you back, please just come with me and he will never know you have left. The house is in chaos and they won’t realize you are gone for a while but we have to go now!
” He takes a few steps towards the trees.
“My father means well, believe me, we are protecting you. Do not make this harder than it needs to be. I swear your conditions at the estate will improve, please!” he calls out into the dark, scanning side to side, showing me that he hasn’t pinpointed my location yet.
He pushes his hood back and turns his head to the side, as if he is intently listening, I hold my breath and try not to move.
I can feel a familiar fogginess in my head and scrunch my eyes closed trying to clear it but when I open my eyes I am seeing from Embrys’ perspective, looking into the dark forest, scanning the trees for my whereabouts.
“Gah, get out of my head!” I yell out as I try to shake the vision off and am transported back into my body.
When I look back up to where Embrys had been he is gone, only the two horses remain, shifting from leg to leg in restlessness, their hot breath sending plumes of fog out into the crisp night air.
Where did he go? I scan the forest but it is too hard to tell if the shapes I am seeing are trees or man. If he is able to see through my eyes when these visions happen then he knows where I am. I have to move, and quickly!
I jump up from my hiding place and run towards the horses, hoping to make my escape once again but I only make it a few paces before the shadow of something whooshes by the corner of my eye.
I whip around to find Embrys, standing only three strides behind me with his hands up, in a sign of non-hostility.
“Please Nuria, I mean you no harm,” he says, taking a tentative step towards me. I take an equal sized step back and point the stolen sword at him, squatting down, into my fighting stance as I narrow my eyes, trying to give him my meanest death stare. A stare I know Marissa would have made fun of.
“You mean me no harm? Then why send the vargs to kidnap me in the first place? Or were you just following Daddy’s orders?
” He scoffs at that, I flare my nostrils, “I will be no one’s slave!
I must rescue my sister. I mean you no harm but I will do what I have to do without remorse, Embrys,” I say and hear his sigh followed by a chuckle at my outstretched arm.
His cockiness and miscalculation at my seriousness gives me a surge of rage that I will gratefully use to fuel my attack and douse my fear.
“Go on, try me,” I say, prodding him to make the first move so I can figure out his weaknesses.
I was always particularly good at goading on my opponents and causing them to attack foolhardily, giving me time to learn their moves.
“I am not going to fight you Nuria. You would surely lose. Come now, this is ridiculous. Give me back my sword and we can be on our way.” He goes to take another step forward but I have had enough of his coaxing and lunge, waving my sword in an arc towards his body.
He leaps back and curses, then draws his own sword.
Finally. I step back and tauntingly draw a line in the dirt of the forest floor just in front of my feet with the tip of my boot.
I show him my teeth like a wild animal. “You will not cross this line.”
Fencing has always been the only time I truly let myself go. The decorum of the sport often left my opponents bewildered at my feral behavior but there are no explicit rules against it and it usually worked in my favour.
Occasionally I would go a bit too far and end up with a penalty.
Like the time in ninth grade when I told Carson Nugent that his inevitable tears of defeat would fill my chalice of victory, earning myself a yellow card.
Hunt’s look of disappointment is still one of those memories that makes my gut sink whenever my brain decides to reminisce.
This was a real fight though, no penalties and no Hunt here to disapprove.
I hear Embrys’ chuckle again, the most irritating chuckle that doesn’t require words to elicit its meaning, as I have heard it from many male opponents before. I am often misjudged initially. He thinks I am a foolish girl and this will be easy for him.
I fume at his arrogance but hold back my urge to swipe at him. He feigns boredom as he looks at his sword, flipping it around in his hand a few times before suddenly, he lunges at me slashing towards my chest.
I quickly block using both hands on the hilt to take the weight of his hard blow before I spin out of his reach and swipe towards his open back. He is quick on his feet, ducking under my high swing and sweeping his leg back to knock my two legs out from under me.
I land hard with a grunt and can see him stand, sword in hand, plunging it down to my chest but he is met with my foot in his balls which causes him to stagger back, crying out in pain.
What the fuck! Is he actually trying to harm me?
I scramble to my feet, not letting my shock steal any of my focus, and sit back into my fighting stance once again.
He growls and straightens up, ready for our next blows. Real fight! Real fight!
We are met strike for strike, parry for parry in an elaborate sequence of feet and singing steel as we dance around each other, unable to land anything effective.
I can feel myself tiring at the prolonged fight and the heavy sword.
Sweat trickles down my face and the beginnings of blisters are forming on my palms.