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The horse slowed down and began to limp. Prolur was slumped forward in the saddle, barely aware of his surroundings. His entire body was in pain from the torture of the past few days, and the sweat from his brow blended with the coagulated blood, trickling into his eyes. He desperately fought to come to his senses. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, shook his head, and tried to focus on what lay around him. He didn’t recognize anything; there was no source of light apart from the crescent moon that hid behind slivers of grey clouds. Now and then light escaped and dusted the area. It was a forest, that much he could assess. Where it lay and how far from Barnavor it might be was a mystery. His uncontrolled ride had led him off the road and in among the brush and trees. The horse came to a halt and slowly began to graze.
Prolur swung his left leg across the saddle, and with a heavy thump, he landed on his feet, but due to the lack of strength, his legs buckled under him, and he rolled away from the horse. With a great deal of difficulty—and with the support of a birch—he managed to stand up. He leaned against the tree to steady himself and try to get a grip on the world around him. After short quick breaths, he tried to right himself without the help of the birch. With stumbling and painful steps, he moved towards the horse.
He bent down to look at the front legs of it and let his hands glide over them. He could feel a lump on the left leg, and the horse flinched when he touched it. He pulled himself up by the saddle and felt the sides and neck of the animal. It was perspiring profusely, and its head hung low, breathing heavily. He had no idea of what he could do. Back at Barnavor they had most likely noticed his escape, and they were probably already on his trail. He had made no point in hiding his tracks during his flight, and whoever was following him were presumably trackers.
The horse was a farm animal, not a steed of war. It was young, but it was a farm horse nonetheless, and with a limp, it was not going to get him very far before his hunters were upon him. That and the fact that he didn’t know where he was gave him serious problems. Where would he hide if he did manage to flee unnoticed? Going back to the monastery was out of the question—that was where they would head first.
He couldn’t hide at Taura’s, the risk was too great, and he didn’t want to get her and Naed into trouble. The only way he would be truly safe was to cross the border into Dourland either by boat or on foot. Would that be the end?
He had been labeled a traitor, and knowing the Haugarian king as he did, they would not stop until he was back in their dungeons and strapped to a rack awaiting execution.
He walked around to the front of the horse and took its head in his hands, looking it deep in the eyes. There was a sign of exhaustion in them. They looked back into his eyes. It was a plea to let it go, to let it rest. The eyes told Prolur that the animal was unable to aid him the way he needed. He patted the head of the animal and let his fingers tangle in the rough hair in between its ears.
He too was weary. His body was worn beyond comparison. He let go of the head of the horse and slowly walked back to the saddle. He was so tired. Tired of running away from his problems. If he had stayed with Taura and confronted his fears and anxiety all those years ago, his situation would have been different. He would have been a father, a husband, and a lord. Now, all that he was was a middle-aged, tired, and doomed monk close to death.
He slammed his fist in the hard leather saddle. He wasn’t going to run this time. It was time for him to face the demons that haunted him. There was no chance of freedom in running. He would have to stand and fight. If he stayed in the dark woods the odds were in his favor. His followers might even pass him by, and that would give him the opportunity that he needed to get to a safe haven. It was the opposite of facing them, but it would let him heal and remain to confront them another day.
Prolur grabbed his sword from the side of the horse, threw it to the ground, and undid the saddle. He lifted it off, placed it next to the sword, and proceeded to remove the reins. With the straps in his hands, he patted the animal’s back and told it goodbye. He slapped it on its hindquarters, and it limped off through the darkness.
He looked around; scouting the area, enough time had been wasted. If soldiers were after him, they would certainly be in the forest soon. The moon came out from behind the clouds and lit up the area for him. There wasn’t much in the way of hiding places, save for a large rock only a couple of feet from the spot he was standing. From his vantage point, the back of it was completely hidden. He looked down on his robes. They were torn and bloodied, and with a forceful yank, he tore the sleeves off. The long sleeves would be in his way whether he fought or crept. Then he took the bottom part and ripped slits on either side and finally ripped about half of it off. He took his sword and strapped it to his back, then he grabbed the saddle and reins, and together with two pieces of his robe, he walked over to the boulder, careful not to leave any tracks in the grass. The front of the boulder was smooth and straight, while the back was filled with dents and crevices, which would make it easy to climb.
He sank down in the wet, muddy grass with his back leaning against the cold stone. He rested a moment, then he slowly crawled a few feet away and hid the saddle and reins under a pile of leaves. He crawled back to the boulder and began to examine it.
The rock was little more than three feet taller than Prolur and was impossible to look over. He would have to look around it if he wanted to see the spot where he had let the horse go. The moonlight had vanished once again, and the forest was in darkness. Weariness washed over him, and his eyelids became heavy. His legs went soft, and he turned around to let himself glide down the side of the boulder. Once again, his body reminded him of its aches and pains. He tried to relax, but the tension in his muscles and the sound of his heart beating in his ears made it difficult. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the quiet of the woods. A slight breeze stirred among the branches and dead leaves which created a low rustling noise. His head became heavy, and he could feel how it fell down on his chest. The strain on his neck woke him up. He opened his eyes and leaned over to the right side of the boulder to see if it was the sound of people that had woken him.
There was no one there. The forest was as quiet as before. He moved back and tried to settle his heart down. If he was to stand this test, he would have to remain calm.
He closed his eyes again and began to drift off into the dark. It felt like an eternity passed him by, and for a moment, he almost thought that his escape had gone unnoticed. He finally dared to let his body rest.
Then he heard the breaking of a twig in the distance, then another one. Prolur got into a crouching position and kept his ears peeled. It became clearer, and now he could hear the sound of hooves hitting the ground. It came from the direction he had come. He crept to the left side of the boulder again, straining to see in the dark.
There, wandering through the trees were two points of light—two torches held by black-clad riders. They weren’t moving at any great speed. Instead, they were slowly watching the grass, and moving their torches close to the ground. They were trackers. More riders were behind them, riding in a single column. They were all dressed lightly in their black tunics, armed with nothing more than a sword. On their backs, they had secured their shields as was the custom of the Haugarian Army. He counted fifteen riders in total, including the two trackers. They were following his trail exactly, and the faces of each soldier became clearer. The rider right behind the two trackers was none other than Lord di Sauria himself, wearing a grim expression on his face and a blue tunic with his coat of arms on the chest.
The images of his dream flashed before his eyes. Before him, he saw the rider coming at the helpless Naed, and again he felt completely frozen, unable to reach him before the sword came down. di Sauria was riding the same horse as in the dream and was dressed exactly like the rider. An unbelievable terror struck Prolur as he sat there staring at his hunters. It was the horror telling him that if he remained in hiding his son was doomed. He now knew what he must do. There was to be no more running. Naed was a part of him, and the child in his dream was not his son but Prolur himself. He was now forced to rid himself of the overshadowing doom that was his cousin.
His senses sharpened, and for a brief moment, he forgot everything about his sore body. The coat of arms on di Sauria’s chest and the man’s determined face made Prolur furious. It was time to face the demon.
He crawled back behind the boulder and concentrated on the sound of the horses. He was sweating profusely, and his heart beat so hard that he thought it might come out of his chest. It was the same way he had felt when he was waiting for his first battle—the anticipation, the blend of sheer terror, and the surging adrenaline.
He gripped the hilt of the sword on his back, gently pulling at it to make sure that it would glide smoothly out of the sheath. He heard the riders coming closer to his hiding place, and he began to slowly climb the boulder, carefully gripping the cracks and pulling himself upward. He peeked over the top and, when he saw that his persecutors were several feet below him, he dared to pull his entire weight up.
Nobody noticed him as he sat there trying to make himself as small as possible. He let the trackers pass by with bated breath. He inhaled deeply as di Sauria rode into his field of vision and bounced on his toes a couple of times. It was now or live as a hunted animal for the rest of his days.
He leapt from the boulder and flew through the dense air with both arms stretched above his head, his body rigid as a piece of wood.
He caught Lord di Sauria and his men completely off guard. He landed with his entire weight on his cousin, and he quickly wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, who in desperation tried to pull him off as well as unsheath his sword. Prolur could hear the commotion all around him, and di Sauria trying to bark orders, but it came out like a high- pitched yelp. He swung his legs over the back of the horse, held on to his enemy’s neck, and let his weight bring them both to the ground. di Sauria held on to his saddle so tightly that the horse followed them down. They hit hard, which caused Prolur to lose his grip, and he was sent rolling across the muddy ground. He got to his feet quickly and managed to draw his sword. He scanned the scene; di Sauria had been caught underneath his horse and was immobilized, and two soldiers were advancing. The first one swung at him, and Prolur parried it with ease and pushed the man away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second attacker coming at him. The soldier went for his head, but Prolur ducked and brought his blade up under the soldier’s armpit. The weapon cut deep, and the man collapsed. Prolur turned in time to meet his first opponent’s blow, aimed waist-high. Prolur locked the swords together by twisting his wrist and brought them upward, above their heads. It left his enemy’s chest open. Prolur released and slashed the man across his front. As he fell, Prolur turned towards the rest of them, gripping his sword tightly. Many of them had dismounted, drawn their swords, and were closing in on him.
He took a couple of steps back and tried to analyze the situation.
“Stand down, men!” the voice of di Sauria boomed. The soldiers halted and backed away. “This traitor is mine to deal with.”
di Sauria’s horse was back to its feet, and the lord himself had regained his composure, though his hair was tangled, and his eyes were burning with the fires of vengeance. He dismounted, and as he began to walk towards Prolur, the soldiers parted to let him past.
“Surrender now, Cousin,” he said as he drew his sword from its sheath. It was an eerie bluish color that Prolur recognized as Boleian—a precious metal found only on the Haugarian island known for its high durability. Weapons fashioned from the ore always remained sharp. It had long been a tradition in the kingdom to award high-standing men and members of the court weapons made from it. Prolur had never before been in close quarters with one. “I do not want to hurt you, Prolur, but if you will not come with us without altercation, I will be forced to take action.”
“Come back to what, Cousin?” Prolur replied as he shifted his sword from hand to hand. “More torture and possibly death?”
“The choice is yours.” di Sauria raised his sword and saluted Prolur, who returned the courtesy with a nod.
They began circling each other, stares flicking between the other’s weapon and face. di Sauria was beginning to show his nerves, and beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. As the circles got smaller, his hands began to shake ever so slightly. Prolur tried to remain as calm as he possibly could. They had done this many times before, but that time was as pupil and teacher.
di Sauria sunk his teeth into his lower lip and made his decision. Holding his sword in his right hand, he raised it above his left shoulder and brought it down. Prolur parried and countered by swinging at di Sauria’s waist, which was blocked with ease. After the exchange of blows, the two men stepped back and circled again. They both took a deep breath and went to attack once more. Their swords locked chest-high, and they both leaned in to the other, trying to force them back. di Sauria, currently being the stronger of the two, pushed Prolur away. He stumbled back and hit the trunk of a tree. di Sauria didn’t let him rest and charged, aiming his sword at Prolur’s head. He dodged and felt the splinters of wood hit his face as the blade dug into the tree.
Prolur seized his opportunity and rammed his hilt into di Sauria’s stomach, causing him to stagger and lose his breath. He then kicked his opponent in the back of the knee, and as he buckled, Prolur punched him on the chin. di Sauria didn’t fall, but he retreated to catch his breath. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his hair was wet with perspiration.
Prolur waited and watched. It was far from over. di Sauria let out a loud cry and ran at him, this time holding his sword in both hands. Again, Prolur parried and returned the blow. They knew each other too well—all that practicing had caused them to recognize every move, every fake and riposte. It turned into a fast-paced dance between them, and the soldiers around watched in amazement. They both panted heavily, and Prolur felt his muscles tighten, and his sword became heavier and heavier. His blows were losing their force, and di Sauria’s attacks were forcing him back. As his attacks grew weaker, they also grew more desperate and were little more than aimless swings. Every time Prolur swung, di Sauria would easily push his sword aside.
di Sauria swung at Prolur’s head, which he blocked, but the sword came down with such force that he fell backward and once again slammed against the tree.
“You will not be aided by your barbaric tribal friends, Cousin,” di Sauria said as he walked towards him, wiping sweat from his brow. “I do advise you to give up, Prolur. It would be the best for both of us.”
Prolur tried to back up the trunk of the tree so that he could get an upright position. His head was swimming with confusion and disorientation. He tried to focus on the shape of his approaching cousin with his sword swinging back and forth at his side. Suddenly, his vision began to fade, and a shock of numbness shot through his right arm, from the tip of his fingers, and through his veins, it traveled upwards to his shoulder and up his neck. Images began to flash before his eyes. He was back on the battlefield, but this time the battle was not raging as before. Instead, the field laid empty, dark brown grass blowing in a chill wind from the east. On the other end of it, almost twenty feet away, stood the opposing army; faceless men dressed in dark uniforms and holding dark banners. He was all alone on his end, and in the center of the field stood di Sauria, sword in hand and advancing.
In a flash, the field and soldiers disappeared. All that was left was di Sauria, the way he had been before, except now he was carrying a shield on his left arm. It too bore his coat of arms. There was nothing but darkness around him. The surroundings had completely faded away, leaving only Prolur and di Sauria.
The shots of tingling numbness climbed up into Prolur’s brain. Something was strengthening his limbs and hiding his pain. As he felt blood pumping through him, he became more invigorated. He straightened himself out and looked di Sauria dead in the eye. For a moment, di Sauria looked startled, but he still took one long step forward and aimed his sword at Prolur, who parried with such force that it caught them both off guard. di Sauria quickly regained his composure and struck his shield into his cousin’s unprotected body. Prolur was sent back but felt no effect from the blow. Instead, he spun around, and with added force, the sword crashed into his cousin’s shield, sending slivers of metal flying everywhere. He slid the sword out from the center of the shield, and di Sauria howled in pain as it cut into his left arm. The Lord of Saurania tried to catch Prolur’s head, but he caught nothing but empty air as he dodged. His shield split in two as he blocked Prolur’s second attack, and he jumped back, desperately trying to shake off the remains.
Prolur ceased his attacks and once again they circled each other. di Sauria’s left arm was hanging limply at his side with blood running down it. di Sauria attacked but missed as Prolur sidestepped and then punched him in the face. He stumbled back with his sword raised. Prolur then hit di Sauria across his hand. The lord lost his grip, and the sword went airborne. Prolur grabbed it with his left hand and kicked his cousin in the chest. di Sauria fell hard against a tree.
Without even thinking Prolur rammed di Sauria’s sword into the trunk of the tree next to the man’s head. It grazed his ear and wet the blade. The sensation of the battle left him, and it was as if Prolur woke from a deep daydream.
di Sauria lay shaking against the tree, his eyes wild with fear, dripping with sweat. Prolur leaned towards him and laid his own blade against di Sauria’s throat. With a quick turn of his head, Prolur looked back at the soldiers. They were watching him with their weapons ready, standing back, afraid to move an inch as if they were awaiting orders.
“Are y-you going to k-kill me, Prolur?” di Sauria spat blood as he stuttered his question.
“Not if I can help it, Cousin,” Prolur replied, filled with disgust at the sight of the pitiful man before him.
“You will not get away from us. There is nowhere to hide, and if you try to kill me, my men will slaughter you—be sure of that. You may be handy with the sword, but it would not be enough to defeat these soldiers.”
“At least I will have ended your cowardly existence.” Prolur pressed his sword harder against di Sauria’s throat, drawing blood. di Sauria’s legs began to shake and twitch in fear. There was silence between them. The heavy breathing amongst the men blended with the natural sounds stirring around them. Suddenly, di Sauria ceased his nervous twitching, and a calm air came over him. He smiled a vicious smile, and it disturbed something deep inside Prolur’s mind.
“What do you want?” di Sauria’s voice was cracked and uneasy. “I will grant you anything.”
“I want you to let me go,” Prolur said in a solemn voice. “I need a good horse and your word that you will give me free passage. I will leave the kingdom never to return. I leave my name, and all trace of my presence will be forgotten.”
“It is impossible for me to make that promise.”
“Then I have no choice. I need to be free, and if there is no other way, I may see you in Quilo in Haugar’s army.” Prolur added extra pressure on his sword. di Sauria’s eyes were wide open, and he grabbed Prolur’s robe in desperation.
“No!” he cried. “I do not want to die. I will give you what you wish for.”
“Do you swear it?” Prolur said between clenched teeth.
“I swear it. I will give you anything you want. Just do not kill me.”
Prolur turned his head to look at the soldiers again. They were now even farther back with their weapons on the ground. He turned back to his cousin and rose. He placed his foot on di Sauria’s chest and pulled the Boleian sword from the tree. di Sauria also stood up and kept his eyes on him.
“You will keep your promise to me, Mieden, will you not?” Prolur asked, but di Sauria just held his arm in silence.
Prolur turned and walked towards the horses. The soldiers parted as he came towards them, and he could hear their reverend silence as he passed.
“I can hold my promise to you, but that does not mean that I cannot hurt you in other ways.” di Sauria spoke at the same instant as Prolur reached one of the horses. “Do you wish to put Taura’s life in danger—or your son’s?” Prolur froze and his heart sank.
“Yes, your son. Are you surprised at my knowledge of Naed’s father?”
“What are you saying?” Prolur didn’t turn to look at his cousin, he just remained still.
“I always knew, and that knowledge ate through my very heart. For as long as the boy was with her, so were you. I have always fought your ghost, and when you arrived here, in my land, it became more difficult to win that battle. But this day, I defeat the legendary Sir Prolur di Sangior. If you get on that horse and ride off, I will not hinder you, but your beloved Taura and son will suffer your treason.” Prolur remained silent. “The choice is yours.”
“If I give myself up, will you spare them?” Prolur turned around with both swords hanging limply at his sides.
“I will grant you that wish. Their lives for yours.” di Sauria walked towards him with a vicious sneer on his face. “Lay down the swords, and they will be safe for all time.”
Prolur hesitated for a moment. His love and son depended on this one decision. He had been a fool to believe that he could have changed the course of his life. He let the weapons fall to the ground, and as soon as they hit the wet grass, two soldiers grabbed his arms.
di Sauria walked up to him, and Prolur’s eyes tried to burn a hole right through him. “No one makes a fool of me,” he said. “I am Lord di Sauria, the most powerful man in the land, and I will not be defeated by a lowly monk.”
di Sauria bent down and picked up his sword. He held it up and inspected it for a moment and then crashed it into Prolur’s forehead, knocking him out.