CHAPTER 1
Blindly she ran thru the trees, ever deeper into the late autumn forest. She ran past black aspen, powcohicora, and pine; jumped and climbed over the large roots of benteak and the majestic baobab. There was no time to admire the wondrous colors of the still changing leaves. Her mind wandered for a moment back to the trees in the gardens back home; the golden, violet, and scarlet leaves falling around the calm waters of the lotus ponds.
As she was coming back to herself she narrowly missed the abnormally thick tree trunk dead in front of her. “I don’t have time for this,” she chided herself, climbing quickly over a root of the house sized baobab. She suddenly wished she did have the luxury to stop and notice the elegance and beauty of the seasonal changes. Only, there wasn’t any time to witness the glory of the flock of Zöatine flying south; their elongated teal and plum tail feathers billowing out behind them. The way they shook the majestic plumes atop their delicate heads. Even the two-tailed fox hazardously darting across her path was not enough to distract her from her goal.
The dying branches of underbrush and weeds caught at her clothes, slowing her down. Thorns from the occasional, picked clean, berry bush scratched at her face and arms, but she ignored the pain. Escape was her driving force now. Hearing the cacophony of galloping horses snorting their excitement at the chase and the frustrated shouts of their riders getting even closer, she picked up speed. She needed only to reach the other side of the thick, never ending forest to reach freedom. Once she crossed the rope bridge that spanned the river border of Caetera Desunt she would be in Licentia Totus; she’d be free! The people of Licentia didn’t believe in the “slavery” of Bloods; that their auburn-haired lineage didn’t always produce a magical prophet or prophetess, as was usually the case. He could come after her, but if she could cross the river and get lost in Black Briar Forest she’d never be found. This was just fine with her.
At a break in the trees she stopped to catch her breath. She began to feel winded and lost, but as her wheezing subsided the faint sounds of gurgling and splashing water floated past her on the brisk breeze. Lightly rubbing her arms she thought with relief, “I’m almost there.” She looked out over the sheltered field still lush with so many flowers. There were orange firecrackers, tall golden lollypops, ice flowers dressed in sunny yellow, glistening white, and brilliant purples. “How strange that they’re all still in bloom,” she whispered into the breeze. She was wrested from her daydream of flowers and freedom by a shout that was too close for comfort.
“There! Through the trees, I see her!”
With another gasp, this one in fright, she took off across the field like a ghazāl, arrows whizzing past. She crashed thru the shrubs and underbrush on the other side just as her pursuers were gathering at the center of the field. She continued headlong into the depths of the forest, veering off course, hoping to dodge the swarm of bullets and arrows buzzing ever closer to her. Dashing thru clusters of dragona willow trees and into a heavier mass of evergreens, their still heavy branches dimming the already fading light, the escapee suddenly found herself falling thru empty space. Next thing she knew, her mouth was full of dirt, composted leaves decorated her hair, and her hip was beginning to scream in pain at the pinecone digging into it.
She stood dazedly, taking in the small, steep embankment she had tumbled down. A well-aimed arrow skimmed her cheek, the sting of it letting her know that it was time to get moving. Go! Go! Go! That one word was screaming thru her mind like a monks mantra as she drove farther into the denser parts of the forest of Gilderly. There she hoped to find some form of hidey-hole to wait out the soldiers. On she pushed until she was far enough ahead that she could no longer hear the horses and clanking armor.
It wasn’t long after that she had to stop again to catch her breath. She angled herself against the next tree she came to, which in a forest didn’t take long. Then, like a flash in a geolu miner’s pan, many things happened at once. Just as she started to become aware of approaching horses, the tree she’d been propped against unexpectedly grabbed her around the waist, her yelp of surprise cut off by the strong hand clapped firmly over her mouth, and she was hauled bodily toward the dark and cavernous gash in the tree. Earlier she’d thought the dugout fortuitous, now all she could think was, “Trees don’t have hands! Men have hands. These are MAN HANDS!!”
She struggled and thrashed about, fiery red hair clinging to her high cheekbones and stinging her mint-green eyes. Tawny curls in her peripheral vision preceded a very convincing masculine timbre that stayed her flailing. “Cease and desist your screaming woman! At the very least, do not give away my position. Please.” The please came as an afterthought as he backed them both into the small, shadowed dugout, slowly removing his hand lest she scream again. It was then, in the stilled silence, she could clearly hear and see the soldiers fanning out amongst the tree cluster around the maple she-THEY-were hiding in. The closer they got to the dugout, the faster her heart beat, pace matching that of the one pounding thru the strong chest at her back.
A man in posh, burnished armor, Stetson perched atop his flaxen hair, slowed his mount to a stop directly in front of them. He twisted in his worn, high backed saddle to peer into the shadows that, unbeknownst to him, hid his quarry.
“He sees us! I just know he sees us!” Her tattered nerves were screaming with the urge to flee the safety of the hollow.
The soldier leaned closer, nearly toppling from his seat, and her heart came to a dead stop. Unbridled fear had her shaking like a leaf in the midst of a howling windstorm. He was so close she could see all the wear lines in his cowboy hat, the trademark on his dark brown Timberland boots, and the satin walnut coating on the Benelli R1 rifle slung across his lap. After an eternity had passed he sat back up in the saddle, dropping the reins to cup his hands around his mouth. “She ain’t hidin’ ‘round here, sir,” he signaled to the lead mount and its rider some fifty feet away.
The young woman turned her gaze in the direction of the soldier’s shout, already knowing just whom she would see. There he was, just as she knew he’d be: mounted on a beautiful, black Thoroughbred Hunter, black gleaming Hunter HD crossbow propped against his flamboyantly armored shoulder, nasty sneer marring his otherwise charming face, cobalt blue eyes, golden shoulder-length hair, and very strong, in will and aesthetics; the one man she feared the most. The esteemed leader of the pack of wolfish knaves that had been after her for days now; the man she was risking her life to escape from: Lord Hexidonnys Darhsynis III of Cruorem, only son of the current Lord Darhsynis III of Cruorem, known to friends and those he felt deserved his honored attention as Hex. If her panicked heart hadn’t already been in her feet she’d have jumped thru the top branches of the tree when he shouted back a response.
“Let’s keep going! She can’t have gotten far in here,” and as an afterthought, “And Mule, stop with the eastern accents. It gets old.”
“I agree. Knock it off,” said another Blondey riding up behind and clocking the younger man in the back of the head with his solid silver, semi-automatic Desert Eagle, knocking his hat askew.
“Dad blast it, Bart, use yur fist like a normal ape, not the pistol!”
“Mule! Bartholos! Quit playing around and get moving! I want her found,” Hex shouted from several yards out beyond the tree cluster.
Bartholos, with his nearly white-blonde hair and skin darkened by years under the sun was easily pinpointed as a foreigner, but there wasn’t a person alive that would question his lineage. It was said that his family worked “behind-the-scenes” and had a fist in nearly every business in several of the countries that surrounded Caetera. His cerulean eyes, pouty lips, musical accent, and strong build never went unnoticed, whether by woman or man. It was the angry set to his jaw and the coldness about him that gave most people pause. Both he and Mule took off after their leader in a flurry of dead leaves and dirt.
The young woman hiding in the tree heaved a great sigh of relief thinking all was well. They hadn’t found her. She was safe to continue on.
“That went better than I had hoped it would,” came the deep voice of the man in the tree, the tree-man, the tree dwelling man? Whoever he was. With a girly squeak of surprise she attempted to dart out and away from the hollow, but the curly-haired man again snatched her up about the waist and hauled her back into the shadows, hand again on her mouth. “Are you crazy, girl? Do you wish so badly to give away our position and be caught? Just, just wait for the sound of their horses to fade.”
“Sweet ham on a spit in summer! He scared the life out of me! Note to self: ALWAYS remember the men with whom you hide.” This thought wrapped its way around her heart, now stuck firmly in her throat, as they waited for the safety of silence. When it appeared all was clear he released her mouth and waist, and she headed out of the tree nook, back still turned to him.
“You scared eight years off my life grabbing me like that,” she scolded while pulling leaves from her hair.
“You are welcome,” he offered sarcastically as he stepped away from the tree.
She winced at his tone knowing she should be a bit more grateful to the man. He had saved her life after all. “Sorry…and thanks,” she said, reaching to dust off the front of her airy, moss green tunic and the pale, suede pants that she’d convinced the kitchen boy, Dodge, to swipe for her. She couldn’t very well have effectively escaped wearing the flowing gowns she’d been forced to wear on a daily basis. Frills, lace, curls, bows; she always felt like a trussed up hog at Christmas, or was it that she felt dressed for show like some prized stallion. “You saved my life…for the time being,” she added, bringing her wandering thoughts back to the present.
“And you very well could have ended mine,” he quipped, dusting debris from the hollow off of his faded-to-nothing blue jeans and comfortably-worn brown shirt.
“ARGH! The nerve of this man,” she complained inwardly, but at the same time another voice told her, “You do rather deserve that.” Unfortunately the apologetic thought did not reflect what she said out loud, “Look, I said I was sorry. What more do you want me to say? ‘Thank you! You’re my hero! I’m forever grateful and eternally in your debt great sir!’ Is that what you were hoping to hear?” She turned, hands on hips, fuming, over what she wasn’t entirely sure but angry just the same, only to have it doused by the sight of the backside of those wonderfully fitted jeans as he leaned into the hollow to grab a very worn, leather knapsack. He laughed when he caught her staring. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d turned back around! A few steps and he was in front of her, hand out-stretched in a peace offering.
“I am Aod,” he said taking her hand and shaking it gently. At her raised brow he added, “ Not only is it my name, but it is also my personality trait. Aod…odd. You see?” He paused, boyish grin on his roguishly handsome face, then drove the nail-o-charm home with a: “Knowing I am your hero is good enough, thank you.”
Of course, she couldn’t help but smile back at those laughing stormy-blue eyes, the tawny curls that surrounded his strong jaw, and that boyish grin that would make and right-minded woman melt. She did the only proper thing. “I’m…um…Embyr,” she said distractedly.
“Nice to meet you, Um-Embyr-“
“-It’s just Emb-“
“You know, I have only seen one other person with hair that color, but not that exact fiery shade. Your namesake I presume?” She noted that he was waiting for something and thought, “Stop day dreaming about those wonderfully beautiful, soft, golden curls! The man asked you a question!”
“Huh? Oh! Yes, yes that’s how I got my name,” she blushed, “ and my troubles,” she mumbled. “Well. This has been so much fun,” she stated after a pause. “Thanks again for saving me. I’ve got to be going now,” she said with a wave as she took off in a jog.
Something whistled past her head and into the pine behind her. “They must have heard me squeal earlier,” she thought with dismay. Embyr turned when she heard Aod’s shout of agony. She saw him hit the ground, arrow protruding from the upper left side of his chest. Her first thought was to flee and not look back; two of the riders were already in view. “ I can’t just leave him here after he helped me like he did. I owe him that. Besides, who knows what Hex will do to him if he found out that Aod helped me.” All this ran thru her mind in a matter of seconds that felt more like eternity. Running back to his side, Embyr grabbed his rucksack off the ground, threw it over her shoulder, and hauled him to his feet by his good arm saying, “ Come on! We’ve got to go, now!”
They ran, arrows continuing to fly past them, bullets making toothpicks of nearby saplings, but the extensiveness of large trees covered the fleeing duo. The Blondeys were close at their heels, pushing thru even the densest of the underbrush. Just when Embyr and Aod thought they had eluded the soldiers by crawling between giant stands of scrub brush, they were met on the other side by the close cutting edge of a riverside cliff. “What now,” Aod asked, teeth clenched in pain. Embyr looked into his ashen face with concern, then at the arrow. He was losing blood, and he clearly couldn’t have run any farther even if they’d had somewhere further to run.
Shouts of victory preceded the excited nickering of the horses:
“There they are!”
“We’ve got them trapped on the cliff!”
“Ya ain’t goin’ nowheres now, girlie!”
“Well lookie here, two for the price of one.”
Embyr looked around, desperately searching for some means of escape. She glanced at the man to whom she owed her life, and peering over his shoulder at the cold, rushing waters of the river below, she knew it was the only option they had. The bane of Embyr’s existence closed the gap between them, plowing unheedingly thru the prickly shrubs. With one last look of defiance sent in his direction, she grabbed Aod’s good hand and together they leapt off the edge and into the welcoming, frigid waters of the river.
She hit the surface with a greedy gasp for air and was met with a generous rain of arrows. “Where do they keep getting all those arrows?” The random thought flit briefly across her thoughts. Though the water sent ice down to her bones, Embyr was grateful when the current took her out of the archers’ range. Chilling waves washed over her head making it hard to see, let alone catch her breath. His rucksack around her neck and shoulder weighed her down, but she wouldn’t throw it off. At one point, when the river wasn’t trying to drown her, she caught sight of Aod a little ways ahead of her downriver. He had, thankfully, gotten himself snagged on a large boulder neared to the opposite shore.
The small rapids made it harder to swim to him, but he was still far enough away that, using the current to her advantage, she could fight her way across to him. She crashed into the large rock with teeth-jarring force. “Oomph! We-we’ve got to swim t-to shore or w-we’ll freeze or d-d-drown or BOTH,” she shouted over the din of the splashing and crashing of the waves against the rock. Pulling them both from the boulder, they were swept back into the swirling current. There was no way she could swim them both to shore, but she wasn’t even sure if he was still conscious. Embyr tried her best to steer them toward the beach, but her efforts were made difficult by Aod’s deadweight, positive now that he’d passed out.
Finally, after is seemed she’d swallowed most of the river, her feet touched the pebble-strewn river bottom. Using the water’s buoyancy she pulled them both up onto dry land. She was grateful that the tree line was so close to the water; it meant she didn’t have to go so far to hide them both before she dropped to the ground coughing and hacking against the river water she’d swallowed. “We-we made it,” she said, voice hoarse from coughing and shaking like a leaf. “F-fire. We need a fire.” She pulled the sack off her shoulder and rummaged thru it hoping to find some means for starting a fire. Luck must have been on her side; after much digging she found an old cigarette lighter. “Hopefully, it’ll still work,” she prayed silently. Too exhausted to walk, she crawled about the bushes that surrounded them to look for fire fodder. When she felt she had enough and was really too cold to look for more, she crawled back to where she’d left Aod. Embyr made a small pile of the sticks and moss she’d found, put some rocks around it, got the lighter from where she’d put it in her pocket, and lit the pitiful excuse for a fire.
Warming her hands at the inviting flames, she looked down at Aod out cold next her and realized that she needed to somehow stop what bleeding she could for now. Tearing off a strip from her oversized tunic, she gently wrapped the wound around the still protruding arrow. As she contemplated removing the foul little stick, exhaustion crept in, and she slumped to the ground next to the injured man thinking she’d just rest awhile and then get the arrow out. Embyr looked sleepily at his quickly drying curls, barely registering in her clouded mind why she was so taken with them. The only Blondeys she knew were the men chasing her -them now-, the other nobility, and the obscenely wealthy. “Oh horse turds! Off the stove and into the fire,” was her last thought before she was swept into the blissful oblivion of dreamland.
~TBC~
4laugh Thanks so much for taking the time to read this! All comments are accepted!
As always you can find more of my scribblings at:
http://www.fictionpress.com/u/456791/Dragons_Willow 
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