40 Hugo
Hugo
Hugo woke with a start, a familiar whinny breaking him out of his slumber. Eira was in his arms, snoring softly in the cold
morning air.
He looked to Arthur, who had just huffed, his sign that he’d heard something outside of the cave. Hugo slowly pulled his arm
out from under Eira, a moan leaving her plump lips as he quietly stood and grabbed his sword.
“Good work, buddy,” he whispered as he walked by Arthur, the horse nipping at his cloak in response. At the exit to the cave
Hugo paused, listening for any sound that could explain what was out here. He desperately hoped it was an animal or something
that just startled the horse, but he’d worked with Arthur long enough to know that the horse could discern between a person
and a big cat, and would react accordingly.
A crunch reverberated through the perfectly quiet scene.
Hugo had taken them off the path to camp, knowing that it would be the best way to stay safe while they slept, and the snow and wind had covered their tracks.
There should have been no one here, and yet he could hear the tentative footsteps of at least one person outside.
Hugo unsheathed his sword and stepped out, the snow blinding him as he tried to acclimatize his eyes to his surroundings,
the crunching to his left abruptly stopping as he made noise on the snow himself.
A pregnant pause filled the air until Hugo started running, the movement of whoever was to his left starting again as he spun
on his heel and ran toward the only sound in the early-morning quiet. He turned toward the road to Luwha and spotted the two
soldiers, clad in leathers and fur-lined cloaks. “Stop!” he yelled, some part of his mind irrationally worried that Eira would
wake up from the echoes of his shout.
The figures stopped, turning toward Hugo slowly.
“Who are you?” he yelled, sword drawn as he walked closer, trying to see if he recognized either of them.
The two put their hands up. The man and woman from the roadside tavern over a week ago. He hadn’t been paranoid; he’d spotted
something, and had let them continue to follow him. He was a fool.
“We don’t want a fight,” the taller one said.
“Who are you?” Hugo growled, jabbing his sword in their direction, now just scant meters away.
“We’ve been keeping an eye on your travels, that’s all,” the tall one spoke again. The shorter one, Hugo could now see, was
a woman, and he glanced up at a loud screech to see an eagle circling overhead. Hugo had been so wrapped up in Eira and what
she needed that he hadn’t investigated their surroundings nearly as much as he should have. He’d been hunted. Shit.
“What did you send back to him?” Hugo said, his anger rising.
“You know we can’t tell you that,” the short one finally spoke.
“And you know I can’t let you go,” Hugo responded, sadness coloring his voice.
He knew he had to dispatch these two, that he couldn’t let them go to keep reporting back to the lord general, and he could only hope desperately that they hadn’t figured out who Evangeline was . . . or Eira, for that matter.
“Fortunately, we came prepared for that outcome,” the tall one said as they both pulled out swords, positioning themselves
defensively for Hugo to strike first.
Hugo was about to strike when he watched the snow below their feet creep up the man’s legs before crystallizing, an eerie
crunch following the solidification of the ice.
“What are you doing?” the man yelled, breaking his focus on Hugo and turning it to something behind him and then to the hard
snow creeping up his legs, leaving him locked where he stood.
Hugo followed the man’s gaze and saw Eira, who had crept up behind him as he had argued with the two spies. He was beginning
to realize that he may have let his own skills as a hunter lapse a bit too much for his own liking. She stood, much more undressed
than she should have been for the weather, with her hands in front of her. Hugo saw how her hand motions directed the snow
up the man’s body; it was fascinating to watch, and he would have continued if this hadn’t been the perfect opportunity for
him to strike.
Hugo ran forward, the other man moving his sword to block Hugo’s attack, despite his predicament. But Hugo wasn’t about to
attack the easy target. He turned at the last second and swung at the woman, who, while prepared, had not expected him to
choose her in that moment. Their swords clashed and Hugo could see the fear in her eyes. These weren’t soldiers; they were
just trackers, informants. However, they were loyal to the Iron Empire and would strike Hugo down the moment he faltered.
“I didn’t report on any details about the witch,” she whispered, just loud enough for Hugo to hear, the metal of their swords grinding against each other as she spoke. “Or the other girl.”
“Why?” Hugo asked, not letting up. He jumped back before diving toward her again, kicking her leg. Her knee buckled and she
faltered for a moment before she recovered and blocked his third swing.
“Hugo,” Eira yelled. “I can’t hold him for much longer.”
He saw that the snow had crept up to the man’s waist, and he looked at Hugo with pure panic in his eyes as he swung his sword
fruitlessly.
“My aunt was a witch,” the woman said. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
Hugo broke off the battle and stepped backward, the two of them between him and Eira. The other man was now half covered in
snow and desperately trying to get it off.
“Get the witch to stop!” he exclaimed. “I can’t feel my feet!”
Hugo looked back to Eira watching him, waiting for his guidance. He’d grown and guarded Eira’s family in a time of peace and
so Hugo had never fought beside a witch, only against them. Together they were beyond powerful, and he suddenly wondered what
it would have been like at the beginning of the Iron Empire if they’d worked with witches instead of damning them.
“I don’t want to have to kill you both,” Hugo said, pointing his sword at the increasingly frozen man’s neck.
“We’ll talk!” he yelled.
“Let him out, Eira,” Hugo said, looking to her. Eira’s auburn hair was wild and windblown, her chest heaving and breath steaming,
leaving visible puffs of air around her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on, powerful and ethereal . . .
and he’d gratefully spend forever trying to deserve even just a shred of her light.
She lowered her hands, stepping up toward Hugo, and he put his arm out, motioning for her to stand just behind him in case the hunters attacked again.
Hugo watched the hard snow begin to soften and break as the man beat at it with the hilt of his sword; what had been futile while Eira was casting her magic was made possible simply by her stopping.
“We don’t really wish to die,” the short one said.
“What are your names?” Eira asked, looking between the two.
They looked at each other, an anxious exchange.
“I’m Sylvie,” the short one said.
“I’m Sanders,” the tall one said.
“I’m—” Eira started and Hugo whipped his head around and shot her a look, stopping her from telling them her name.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” Hugo said, turning back to them. “You’ve been following us and reporting back to the Iron Empire.
We’d be safer if you died.”
“We’re not unwilling to make a deal, as long as you’re willing to give something up too,” Sanders said, stepping out of the
final bits of snow he’d broken off and rubbing his foot. “You witch, you almost froze my legs off.”
“You almost killed Hugo,” Eira said, shrugging. Hugo could tell she was trying to be nonchalant. He watched them, waiting
to see what they said.
“That thing over in Lichton,” Sylvie finally spoke, watching Sanders out of the corner of her eye. “Something didn’t feel right about
it.” So they’d seen the Soulless Knight, too.
“I agree,” Eira said, stepping forward with interest.
“So what?” Hugo snapped. “What does that have to do with me not killing you?”
“We’re not going to abandon the Iron Empire but . . . we could say that we lost you. We could report on the witch, say that you got lost and that we took her instead,” Sanders said, sneering
at Eira. Hugo stiffened. He didn’t like the way he looked at her, the flat gleam of malice in his eyes. “We’re not unwilling
to protect our lives if we can make some sort of trade.”
Fury bubbled up and almost snuffed out what little good will Hugo had within him. They wanted to take Eira, take Eira and kill her. He could tell by the look on Sanders’s face that she’d never make it back to Astrad alive. There was no way, in any world, that Hugo would let them take her.
“We know you left the empire because you had some differences with the lord general . . . I’m just saying that we agree that
every leader has their flaws—and so do their trackers,” Sylvie said. “Sanders isn’t speaking for both of us here. The witch
isn’t your only option.”
So, the two trackers weren’t aligned with each other. Interesting.
“Not you, though, Venton,” Sanders said. “You’re a legend, hunting down these evil little harpies.” He gestured to Eira, and
Hugo fought the urge to run him through here and now and be done with it.
“This isn’t about me,” Hugo growled.
“Agreed.” Sylvie put her hands up placatingly. “We’re just saying that in exchange for our lives we’ll say we lost you in
Lichton.”
“What was the last thing you sent?” Hugo said, biding his time as he tried to figure out how to kill them both quickly and
keep Eira safe.
“We heard you say you were going to Luwha back at that roadside tavern. You and the other girl were arguing as you left in
the early morning,” Sanders answered.
“And nothing else?” Hugo said, lifting his sword to the man’s chest.
“I swear it,” Sanders answered.
“I’ll write in our communication that we lost you . . . and maybe if we have to find you again we’ll—” Sylvie looked to Sanders,
something in her eyes. “We’ll discuss what you’d like the lord general to know.”