Chapter Nine #2
He poked his head above the bushes, double-checked there was no one around, and peered down the other side of the garden where the mountain sloped off.
It was rocky, but it didn’t look steep. The real issue was getting over the hedge without rustling it, which would surely draw a guard’s attention.
The wispy trees decorating the garden weren’t sturdy enough to climb, but they mostly held his weight, so he used the branches of one to clear the top of the bushes with as little contact as possible.
As soon as he dropped to the other side, sand and rocks slid under his feet and he couldn’t regain balance.
He toppled down the slope, falling to his ass halfway and slamming his tail bone painfully into the craggy stone.
He bit down hard to prevent a cry, but the sound of tumbling pebbles that went with him, rattling against each other and the hard surface, was definitely loud enough to be heard over the waterfall.
As soon as he got his feet under him he sprinted to the nearest cover, a lone, twiggy bush growing from the mountainside.
He curled up as small as he could behind it, heart pounding in his throat.
He tried to calm and quiet his breath, straining to hear anything, not daring to move. The minutes dragged on.
“—probably just an animal,” someone called from far above him, voice drifting away.
He sat another long while, maybe too long, trying to get control of his lungs and heart. Finally he looked up, scanning the clifftop where the garden was. Empty. He pulled himself up and continued—carefully—down the mountain.
Navigating the rocky, wild terrain in the dark took most of the night.
Some areas he came upon were too steep to continue, and he had to walk around until he found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous.
He still slipped several more times, or ran into the tree-like bushes that grew from the mountainside, nearly hard as rock themselves and scratching up his legs when he so much as brushed by them.
By the time he reached the bottom, the black sky was growing navy with the coming sun.
He rushed between the houses into the street, then stuck where he could to walls and closed-up market stalls, keeping his head low.
It was servants who woke first, and they didn’t have time to give him more than a glance as they hurried about on their chores.
With a manicured road to follow, he made much better time, and he got to the bottom level of the city as the sun cleared the horizon.
This part of the city was mostly merchants and travelers; it didn’t have many houses, and the people didn’t look as lavishly dressed.
They didn’t pay much attention to Ethyr as he slipped through the crowd, though he did cause some double-takes and murmurs.
For once, he hoped it was about his looks and not because they recognized him.
There was already a line of people going in and out of the stone archway that framed the city gate.
It led to a wide and high bridge, which he remembered the boat passing under when he first arrived.
He pressed a hand over his lower face, pretending to pinch his nose at the smell, though he didn’t need to pretend hard.
Being immaculately clean for weeks, surrounded by other pristine people and things, had the pungent tang of sweaty travelers hitting him like a wall.
He fell into step behind a man and woman, keeping close to them and staring hard at their heels as they passed under the stone arch and the eyes of more guards.
Over the bridge, between two more guards posted at its other end, and then he was on open road. He almost couldn’t believe it. He’d made it out of the city.
But he’d been so intent on that part, he hadn’t thought farther ahead. He had no idea how to get home, or how long it would take on foot; he didn’t have any food or clean water, and he’d brought absolutely nothing for shelter or sleeping.
Well, Linwood was north, he knew that. Not only north, but the northernmost village in Hyancia. So he figured if he headed north, he’d have to reach it eventually. He started down the road.
Flat, open fields quickly gave way to farmland.
There were hardly any trees at all, and those that existed were not much bigger than the trees in the capital gardens.
The road occasionally split, and passersby dwindled with each fork.
Ethyr followed whichever turned more north.
It wasn’t long into the morning when his stomach began growling, and didn’t stop.
There were no berry bushes or fruit trees to discreetly pick from, only fields of crops or wild grasses.
He didn’t want to stop too long anyway, because any head start he had was diminished greatly by the clumsy trek down the mountainside.
His stomach ached and the soles of his feet were tender with every step by the time the sun started going down.
He walked as far as he could even as twilight painted the sky with stars, before he couldn’t bear it any longer and resigned himself to the fact that he would not find trees or anything resembling shelter.
He went a ways off the road and curled up in a bed of wild grass, the long stalks dry and brittle from summer heat.
Every time he shifted, one or more poked against him, waking him from half-slumber.
At least a familiar chorus of crickets filled the air.
He began again at morning light with what felt like no sleep at all.
His hope that a night’s rest would ease his bruised feet was dashed on his first step.
If anything, they hurt more. The hollow pain in his belly had grown almost unbearable and there was a new dryness to his mouth that added to the discomfort.
He spent half the day wondering if he should turn back even as he continued forward.
Would the consequences of running away really be worse than dying of hunger and dehydration out in the open?
And was the hope of home worth that possibility?
But then he heard a stream off the road and found it hidden among grass and rushes.
It was shallow and a little muddy, but he stuck his head in and drank until his stomach couldn’t hold more.
Then, a little after midday, he came upon what could only be a lodging house.
It wasn’t in a village or town, it sat alone on the side of the road, but its door was right against the path with no surrounding crops or farmland.
He entered eagerly, looking around at the people sitting at tables.
They ate familiar dark bread and hearty-looking stew. Ethyr's mouth watered.
He swallowed the flood of saliva and walked to the back, where a long counter closed off entry to the kitchen.
“E-excuse me,” he called through the doorway. The warm scent of cooking food drifted under his nose and he had to swallow again.
A man came through, wiping his hands on a cloth. He paused when he saw Ethyr, staring for a long second before shaking himself and coming up to the counter.
“Food or lodging?” he asked.
“Um…” Ethyr swallowed. “Food.”
“Fifteen lytha, then.”
“Oh, I-I…” Ethyr pulled off his make-shift bag and opened it on the tabletop, gold and silver jewelry tumbling flat with it. The man’s jaw dropped at the sight. “I don’t have any coins. Will one of these work?”
He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Any one of those will do.”
Ethyr looked over the mess of bracelets and necklaces and belts, then picked up a gold bangle and held it out.
“Your meal will be out shortly,” the man said. He took the bracelet and hurried back into the kitchen.
Ethyr tied everything up again and waited, shifting from one foot to the other. When the owner returned with a tray, he startled again to see him still standing at the counter.
“You can take any empty seat, s…ir,” he told him, saying the last word hesitantly. Ethyr took the tray.
“Thank you,” he said, and found the closest empty table to sit down and devour every morsel. It wasn’t until he was licking the bowl clean that his skin pricked and he noticed the entire room was staring at him. He put the dish down and everyone returned to what they were doing.
He brought the tray back to the counter, where the owner was still idling, also trying to act like he hadn’t been staring.
“That bracelet was worth some bread to take on the road,” Ethyr said.
The man blinked at him, then nodded quickly. “Ah, yes, just a second.” He brought back an entire round loaf. Ethyr thanked him again and added it to his makeshift bag, setting it on top of all the jewelry.
He was glad to leave the staring behind. With food in his belly, things didn’t look so bad. Even his feet didn’t seem to hurt as much. A whole loaf would last him at least a few days if he portioned it well. Surely that was enough time to get to another inn.
There were a few more farms before marshland took over. As dusk fell, Ethyr realized the issue with that. There was nowhere to hide for the night. He couldn’t sleep in the marsh but he couldn’t sleep out on the open road, either. The only option was to continue and hope dry, solid land wasn’t far.
A loud whistle jolted his soul from his body.
He spun around, heart pounding, expecting palace guards.
It was three men. They weren’t in uniform, and they weren’t hurried, walking leisurely towards him, but some kind of instinct shot fear through Ethyr’s chest. He turned and sprinted. The hard thud of running feet followed.
A strong hand snagged his arm, jerking him to a halt. He shouted and tried to pull away, but his other arm was grabbed and he was pinned to a wide chest.
“Hah, gotcha,” a breathless voice said above his head. One of the men popped into view and ripped the bag from Ethyr’s shoulder. It fell open and dumped its contents onto the ground with a ringing cascade of metal.