Chapter Twenty
Pel
Pel hastened to fill Denil in on what had happened and to reiterate that he didn’t have to be involved in any of this if he didn’t want to be.
“I know that you have a family,” Pel assured him. “I totally understand if you want to protect them.”
“You’re headed back to Tond, aren’t you?” When Pel nodded, Denil shrugged. “Then you’re going where my family is. We’re definitely in this together.”
Pel was still going to worry about Denil’s family, but he wasn’t in a position to deny freely offered help.
He’d briefly considered other locations, but realistically, the only other option seemed to be Princess Adexa.
Given how Tor had talked about his sister, Pel was certain that she’d protect her brother—but he couldn’t guarantee the same was true of her husband or King Stronex.
If either of them felt they couldn’t shelter Tor, they could be in deep trouble.
King Forex would undoubtedly turn Tor in, but Pel was more familiar with Tond. There were more places that he could hide—and it was further away from Alossa, which seemed like nothing but a good thing right now.
He honestly hoped that everyone thought Tor was dead right now, so they’d have no reason search for him anywhere, but he didn’t want to count on that, since he wasn’t sure who may or may not have known Tor was in the nursery.
They were soon away, Tor in the middle of the boat with Pel and Beluna.
They’d draped him up against Pel, since there wasn’t room for him to be lying fully stretched out.
It also helped release some of the tension coiling tighter and tighter in Pel.
It was hard enough to be rowing instead of holding onto Tor, but at least having him lean against Pel was a point of connection.
It had been a way more pleasant journey when Tor had been lounging conscious against him, but this was better than nothing.
It also kept Tor low in the boat, and the rest of them had donned their wide-brimmed straw hats to keep the sun off their heads and conveniently make it unlikely that anyone would recognize them. Pel had draped Tor’s over his face, keeping him protected from both the sun and prying eyes.
They were moving against the current now, which meant it was going to take longer to get back to Tond than it had to get to Alossa—although they were also rowing harder than they had on the way south.
They’d been aware on the journey down that Tor needed to get to Alossa so he could talk to his brother, but that wasn’t the same thing as fleeing.
Pel wanted to put as much distance between them and Nexa as he could—and since Beluna matched him stroke for stroke, she must have been similarly inspired.
Periodically, Pel felt compelled to check Tor’s pulse, and it was there every time. It didn’t seem to be getting stronger… but it wasn’t getting weaker, either, and that had to count for something.
Tor was completely unresponsive, just as he had been after the mountain. Pel had hoped that having lived through it once would make this easier, but not so much.
Pel’s mind constantly tried to spiral off into worries.
What if this time was different? What if it was worse?
What if Pel had made the wrong decision, and they should have stayed at the castle, and Pel should have insisted Tor get a healer?
Would they have thrown him in the dungeon but given him a healer?
Would that have been worth it? Did running mean that Tor was definitely going to be branded a traitor when they eventually cleared the rubble and discovered he wasn’t in the nursery?
Had they even known he was in the nursery?
Or did they think he’d disappeared from the dungeon?
Pel’s head ached with all the possible permutations, and as many times as he told himself to let it go, that it was useless to dwell like this since he’d made a decision and they were executing it, his brain still seemed to want to torture him with a lot of “what ifs.”
There was enough uncertainty in their current course of action. Pel really didn’t appreciate the extra anxiety.
But throughout it all, Tor’s pulse continued to flicker beneath Pel’s questing fingers.
At night, Cavun and Beluna put together Pel and Tor’s tent, Cavun laid Tor out, and no one said anything about the fact that Pel curled up with him every night.
They’d watched him do it on the way back from the mountain, he supposed, so maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise.
The urge to be close to Tor was even more overpowering than it had been then. Pel wanted to wrap himself around the man constantly and… will him better, as if some part of him thought Tor would get better if Pel was touching him.
If only Pel were a healer instead of Unremarkable and completely unhelpful in this situation.
Beluna kept an eye on Tor’s injuries, and thankfully, none of them seemed to have gotten infected. They didn’t seem to be healing, either, but they weren’t getting worse.
They were avoiding inns and more-populated areas, pitching their tents later in the evening and packing up early in the morning.
All of them felt the urgency to move as quickly as they possibly could.
They breathed a little easier when they made it out of Alossa.
On this return journey, they deliberately chose to pull up each night on the side of the Great River that didn’t feature the Great Road.
Travelers could and did travel on either side of the river, and there were various minor roads throughout the United Realms, but the most well-maintained—and thus the busiest—was the Great Road.
So despite the fact that Princess Adexa lived in Lotar, they camped out on that side of the river rather than in Vayrin.
Scala wasn’t near the river, so there was no chance of running into Tor’s sister.
(If it had been close, Pel might have considered going to see her on his own to find out if she could help.)
They switched to Vayrin when the Great Road moved west, but they stayed on the east side even once they reached Bessar and the road moved to that side, because Fila was close to the river, and Pel wasn’t taking any chances.
No capital cities, no chance of Tor being recognized, even if it was unlikely.
By dint of the long days rowing and not enough sleep, they reached the Tondian border nine days after they’d fled Nexa, and this time, when they broke off from the Great River, they continued west, not taking the branch that headed north near to Baless that they’d used on the way south.
Pel’s hands were covered in blisters, and his arms—and chest and shoulders and back—ached fiercely, but the important thing was that they’d made it. None of the others had complained, either.
Tor was still unconscious, and Pel tried to console himself with the fact that this had to be a magical coma thanks to magical exhaustion.
Otherwise, surely his body wouldn’t have survived so long.
Pel had got a little water into him, tipping it slowly and carefully down Tor’s throat, but that was it.
It was only magical comas that put the body in a state that was almost like stasis until the magic recovered.
Somehow, that didn’t make Pel feel a lot better.
He’d thought about it long and hard on the journey, and they weren’t going to the castle. The risks were too high. Very few people would oppose King Forex to his face, and Pel couldn’t be sure he could hide Tor.
They needed somewhere safe, somewhere where they wouldn’t endanger anyone, and somewhere where neither Pel nor Tor would be recognized.
This was normally a special skill that Pel had, but Tor was much more noticeable.
Pel didn’t want to risk rumors getting started.
Which was what had led him to what was probably a foolish idea, but it was the best he could come up with right now: a cave low in the northwest mountains, which Pel knew from childhood.
Before his mother had died when Pel was fourteen, they used to visit the area each year.
He and Bavil and Larexa had played there, back when the world had seemed simpler, and they’d all run around together.
With luck, the cave would offer shelter and time to regroup, and then Pel could decide if he should risk writing to his siblings and asking for help.
“I’ll find transportation,” Cavun said once they pulled ashore for the final time at mid-morning. They’d made it as far as they could in the river, which became progressively shallower and narrower until it ended.
Pel missed Extraordinary and Melody with a fierce ache, but they could scarcely risk retrieving their own horses from the castle—which was at least a day away and wouldn’t exactly be an unsubtle move.
Beluna went for food, and Denil stayed to guard Pel and Tor, who was still laid out in the boat. Pel hovered anxiously next to him.
Cavun returned with four horses, all sturdy-looking, placid beasts, which he explained they were borrowing in exchange for the boats and a rental fee.
Pel hoped they’d be able to get the horses back to their owners one day, but at least they’d received something in exchange.
Pel couldn’t begin to guess how long they’d need them.
If Pel got up the courage to contact Bavil or Larexa, they might be able to bring Extraordinary and Melody with them.
Beluna returned with enough supplies for several days. Hopefully Pel would have a plan by then. They got Pel mounted up with Torex in front of him again, and Pel slowly breathed out and reminded himself that the last time that they’d done this, it had ended well.
As soon as they were out of sight of town, Pel picked up speed. He wasn’t galloping with Tor unconscious in front of him, but he didn’t feel like they should be dawdling, either.
He’d sworn that he’d keep Tor safe, and Pel was reposing all his hope in being able to tuck them away in that cave. Then they could reassess.
He just prayed that he was making the right choice.