Chapter Eight Fallyn
Chapter eight
Fallyn
Isat astride my mount for the day, Daybreak, as we marched between the city gates with the accompaniment of the rising sun.
The horse’s name wasn’t lost on me, bringing a wry smile to my lips.
I glared at the horizon, knowing that soon, Ipsilon would be visible.
The royal family would greet us, waving down from their ivory tower as if they weren't forcing me into this marriage before receiving us in the throne room.
The dagger father had gifted me sat heavy on my leg, secret beneath my cloak, as if willing me to remember it.
Fresh pine air, still cool from the touch of the evening, sharpened my senses and made me clench my black cloak tighter around me.
My leather riding pants stuck to the saddle, giving me a bit more grip in my seat as the horse moved with big, smooth strides.
They had sent a carriage, but the idea of being confined to the ostentatious cage while slowly going towards what felt like my doom was unbearable.
It took time, and even a little shameful begging, but I was able to convince the King’s company to allow me to sit astride a mount.
My dignity took a hit, but at least the sky yawned above me.
My father sat on his bay gelding ahead of me as the last of the farewell procession faded behind me.
Odessa, Rowena, and Thaddeus were stoic-faced with kind smiles, the kind you’d give your friend to support them.
But the worry in their eyes echoed my own.
Several others had mixes of disdain; now that I was set to become part of the royal family, some watched me not bothering to contain their envy while others regarded me with sadness.
I took a steadying breath as our company began what would be easily a day’s journey, my father, myself, and five guards the king sent prodding alongside us, their swords and axes glinting menacingly in the morning dim.
My ribs constricted my lungs as reality settled over me.
My gaze caught my father’s before I cast my disdainful glare at the guards around me, caging me in.
“We ride for the bridge,” the one guard said stiffly, more to the others in his company, than to us.
My hackles went up, unease grasping at me with a persistent stickiness.
I didn’t feel like a convoy, this was beginning to feel stifling and closed in.
Were we prisoners? Had they somehow guessed my thoughts of running?
I had a guard taking up residence on either side of me, one behind me, and one, the leader, stationed ahead of the group guiding the way.
At my mistrustful gaze, the one to my left gave a soft smile I think was supposed to be reassuring.
The guards definitely think I’m going to run. I couldn't entirely blame them.
I stared wistfully at the opposite horizon of our destination with a wish so heavy it ached.
“It’s not to entrap you, my lady.” The one closest to me said mildly, as if reading the direction of my thoughts.
“It’s to protect you. The Kingsguard is here to escort you safely, and to do that is to make sure nothing else has access to you.
” Interesting choice of words. Nothing else has access?
What by the old gods and the new one would want access to us?
We were carrying little—provisions for the trip and not much else.
The unease didn’t relent; if anything, it grew steadily darker, like the mountain shadow that grew in the mounting dusk.
We didn’t get far before the ground shook, only a little at first, but enough to make the horses spook and shy sideways.
Commands from the front of our convoy called for steadiness over the rabble, but I saw the fear in the eyes of the guards that flanked me.
I looked to my father as havoc took up the helm in a flurry of movement and shouting.
An earthquake?
Another quake, strong this time. Screams rent the air.
My grip on the seat of the saddle kept me in place as my horse shied sideways, but one guard wasn’t so lucky, falling loudly from his nervous mount.
It didn’t run then, not yet. It was the third shake of the earth that sent everyone to the ground as their mounts panicked, myself included.
My shoulder hit the hard ground first, followed by my head.
My lungs seized, refusing the passage of air as my body heaved on the ground, craving it.
My mount reared, finding an opening between bodies amidst the confusion and fleeing in the direction of home behind us. Perhaps it was smart.
My father was at my side, gingerly helping me up while the guards roared their disorientation. Chaos reigned supreme as the ground continued its convulsion, our mounts running for their lives and I couldn’t help but feel they knew something innately that we didn’t.
“Fallyn! We’re going to be okay,” my father said, clutching my hand in his massive, leathery ones.
“Is it the volcano?” I asked, looking to the fiery mountain to the south for any signs of activity.
Every so often, black smoke would pillar and the ground would rumble gently, but no fire had spewed from it in years.
Was this now the day? But like a puzzle piece in the wrong spot, it didn’t fit.
Intrinsically, I knew something was very, very wrong.
Perhaps Hades was getting his revenge from his pit in the Underworld for whatever he thought this realm was guilty of.
It wouldn’t be the first time the old gods threw their wrath at us.
The Death Dunes and the ruins that lay within it were the proof of that.
My father opened his mouth to say something else—
—but the next moment saw us clamping our hands over our ears, screaming.
Tearing is a specific sound, recognizable regardless of medium.
You hear it whether it’s a piece of paper that tears, or the moment wood splinters and cracks.
The sound the ground made was eerily recognizable and as such, terrifying.
The deep rumble that further shook the ground before culminating in a violent tear so close to our boots.
“Run! We have to run!” my father yelled as he pulled me up with him.
Back in the direction of home. Of the high black walls that would stand as our protection.
The guards were doing much the same thing, clamoring for whatever purchase they could find on the ground even as it threatened to give way beneath all of our feet.
I took a step before immediately arms came around my waist, pulling me hard to my knees.
“Please!” the guard screeched out, his face eclipsed by sheer panic.
The sounds he made were not words, but fragments of errant thoughts mixing with the primal urge to survive by any means necessary.
He clung to me like a buoy lost at sea, but I was no buoy, and I wouldn’t let him drag me down with him.
“Get off me!” Kicking and shrieking, I wiggled away. But it was my father’s boot colliding with his face as hard as he could that finally freed me.
“Run, Fallyn!" Father urged me, hauling me to my feet. "Back to the keep!”
“What about you?”
“I’m right behind you!”
The ground had finally stopped bucking under our feet, and we were able to get our bearings enough to run flat out.
It was sad how far we hadn’t made it into our journey before the earthquake struck, Este Valnor still very much within our sights.
I imagined once we got closer, those within its walls may have experienced the same phenomenon.
My father and I bolted, running for home, some of the guards quickly doing the same.
A scream pierced the air. Not mortal. Something entirely—other.
Worse, it wasn’t a scream of prey that had been caught. It was the scream signaling a hunt, a half-crazed, starved predator on the loose.
“Go!” I called out to Father, half a step behind me.
I had run before. Carefree through meadows. Running home before I was late for my father’s strict curfew as a child. Running in various games where effort was involved.
Running for your life is entirely different.
The burning in your lungs was invisible to my mind’s registry, as was the burning in my legs.
Fear, all-consuming and corrosive, eclipsed everything else as we ran, arms flailing back to the city with the massive black gates.
Safety. If we could reach the gates, we’d be safe.
I pumped my arms, my legs harder, reaching further with every stride, trying to swallow as much ground as possible.
The horses had the right idea to abandon us. We should’ve listened.
Another scream broke above our awareness, the blood-curdling, high-pitched wail of ensnared prey, cut off in the next breath. I didn’t look back. I had no idea what manner of beast was behind us, or how many. Looking back would cost me too much speed.
It was far too quiet now beyond the breathing and footfalls of three of our five guards, my father, and me, but one thing forced hope to bloom like the tentative first spring blooms through the frost—the city was getting closer.
I could see the open gates. Sanctuary. Swords.
Guards. We would be safe if only we just made it to the city.