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Chapter 4: On the Run

Javan awoke instantly, aware that someone was leaning over him. His hand gripping the hilt of the sword, he sprang up from the uneven ground. Hogarth stumbled backward to get out of the way as the blade came up. Javan breathed heavily as the adrenaline rush ended. He lowered the blade.

"S-s-sorry," stuttered Hogarth. "I was -- seeing if you were awake."

"I am now," said Javan with a short laugh. They looked around. The sun was slightly over its zenith. "It's just after mid-day. Let's be on our way." Hogarth grunted agreement.

They ate some food from their packs, drank some water, and made their way back to the road. Because it was Sabbath, the traffic on the road was light. This increased the boys' nervousness, because they would be easier to see if someone were after them. They drew their cloaks about them, despite the late-summer day's warmth, and covered their heads with their hoods. This was a common enough practice to keep the sun off their heads.

Thus, they walked the rest of the day northwards, following the curves of the road as it skirted the Bergshire Fens. Here and there, the trees would break for a clearing, and they could see the sun as it traversed the sky Westward. The smells of the marshy Fens permeated the woods.

"Isn't there another town near here?" asked Javan.

"Yes, perhaps tomorrow around mid-day we'll reach Freemount."

They walked on a bit further, then stopped short with hearts beating. The sound of galloping hooves getting nearer struck their ears from ahead. They quickly looked to either side, then dove into some low bushes.

A couple of seconds after they had pulled the leaves over their faces, two riders flew past on horseback. Both riders wore light riding cloaks that billowed out behind them. A quick flash of sunlight between the leaves glinted off something at their belts, and then they were gone down the road. Javan had the quick impression of an emblem of a half-moon with a hand holding a curved knife. It had only been an almost-subliminal flash, so that he wasn't even sure he had seen it. Javan felt Hogarth shiver next to him and hunker down closer to the ground. The drum of hooves drifted away.

"What?" asked Javan. Hogarth's face was pale. He said nothing, but got up and stared after the riders. He took two hesitant steps after them. Javan reached out and touched his shoulder. "Come on, let's go. There may be more." Almost reluctantly, Hogarth turned back northward. "Your journey has already started. You are already down the road of the rest of your life." Hogarth shuddered, then began walking with Javan.

They remained quiet the rest of the day, stopping in the evening to eat more of their provisions, and drinking from passing streams and creeks. It seemed to Javan, after those riders, that Hogarth had grown introverted and sullen. He worried, but the boy's face had grown even more closed than usual. The tick below his eye had come back, and Javan knew that the emblem the chance sunbeam had struck represented Neek's organization.

Twice more, riders had passed them; a group of three had overtaken and passed them, and a lone rider had come from ahead. They didn't know whether they were chasing them or not, but they took no chances and hid.

Weary from toil and fear, the two boys stumbled on long after dusk, some time near the middle of the night. Again, they walked into the woods until they could no longer see the road. They lit no fire, just sat down against a tree, and closed their eyes. It began to rain, a light, drippy rain that spattered now and then off the leaves around them.

Javan found it hard to go to sleep. Mentally, he was alert. His mind raced, thinking through the events of the past few days. Physically, his body was weary, and he knew he needed to give it a rest. Images came to mind: Bert's surprised look as his life gushed out all over Javan's hand; Junan's face full of anger and a kind of glee at being able to take out his frustrations on the two of them; Kulo sinking to the floor, trying to catch his breath; his father, face florid with liquor, trying to catch him and beat him as he took the mare his parents had given him and fled; Sooli dressed in the provocative, revealing sashes as she put her hand on her hip, and said she preferred to be at the brothel rather than at home with boorish parents and a bratty pest of a younger brother; the flash of the knife-and-moon emblem in the sun.

Javan let his breathing relax, and consciously relaxed the muscles in his body, trying to calm his mind so he could sleep. The soothing sound of the light rain helped, but he still felt wide awake.

The snap of a twig nearby, heard just above the rain, brought his heart rate up again, though. He opened his eyes a crack, and peered around without moving. Another light rustle, and he noticed Hogarth's spot lay empty. The faint crunch of footfalls retreating across the leaves and needles of the forest floor brought him into action, and in one motion he shed his bag and blade, and leapt forward at a run.

Sprinting, he quickly caught up with a faint figure ahead. In the moonlight that filtered down through the leaves, he saw the slightly paler oval of Hogarth's face and the whites of the eyes as he glanced back. Tired as they were, Javan's wiry muscles sprang to his command, and he leapt. His arms encircled Hogarth's waist, capturing his flailing arms as they crashed into some ferns.

Hogarth struggled a little, then stopped as he realized he could not compete with the older boy's strength.

"We had a deal," breathed Javan.

"So," said Hogarth, but his voice sounded shrill.

"So, by the gods, you'll keep it. Because if you don't, it will destroy you."

"I knew you wanted to hurt me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"You made a promise to yourself as much as to me. You promised yourself you would get out. If you don't keep the promise to me, you are also not keeping the promise to yourself. And that is much worse." Javan was surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. He had no idea where they came from. He was even more surprised to feel the resistance melt out of Hogarth's body, and feel the boy's body start heaving.

Javan quickly released him and squatted back on his haunches to get a better look. Hogarth lay on his back, his arm over his eyes, sobbing silently.

"Th-they're after m-me," he managed. "If I l-leave, y-you c-can g-g-get away."

"Oh no, they are definitely after me as well. If this Neek is as powerful as you say, he can't abide by any challenge to his power." Javan closed his eyes, picturing his father, and his growing anger as his son stood up to him more and more.

"I-if w-we split up, w-w-we'll be harder to f-f-find."

"We'll be easier to bring down. We make a better team than we do as individuals."

Hogarth stopped crying. "All right." Javan made sense.

"Listen, I said I would not rest until you were free. The only way you'll be free is if Neek himself gives up on you, or if he is dead. Now, let's get away from the road." They looked around, and noticed they had come out onto the muddy road with their last tumble.

"Let's get back off the road," suggested Javan. "We need to find a drier place." Hogarth arose and followed, sniffling a little.

What I wouldn't give for a warm dry bed, thought Javan. He didn't voice his thoughts because he judged it would only make the matter worse.

"Who were those men on the horses?"

"Neek's men," said Hogarth with a little shiver. He wasn't sure if the shiver came from the thought of being caught, or the chill wet night.

"I thought as much. I noticed a brief flash of a symbol at their belt." Hogarth reached up, undid the top button of his tunic, and took out an amulet from around his neck. It bore the half-moon, and a fist holding the haft of a curved knife. "That's it."

They spent a little time finding their original camp spot, and Javan retrieved his belongings. As they hunted for a drier spot, Hogarth pulled the amulet thong off from around his neck, and threw it down. "I always thought of them as my family," he said bitterly. "Now I see, they were using me all along. Just as I was using them."

Javan bent down, and retrieved the necklace. He wiped it off on his cloak, and put it back around Hogarth's neck. "Keep it a bit longer. It may come in handy."

The rain had let up, and all that remained was the dripping water off the leaves. "Here's a spot," said Hogarth. Several trees had grown in a half ring, their trunks merging as they grew. Their branches arched just about shoulder height, branches and leaves intertwining to form a roof. The ground underneath was dry, and they were protected from the wind. They sat under the welcome shelter.

"Tell me, how did you come to be with Neek?"

Hogarth shrugged. "I remember a time when I was afraid, always hungry, wandering street to street. I don't know how old I was. I snuck a loaf of bread from a baker's stand, and took it to an alley to eat it. A man, one of the ones who was on the street at the time I stole the food, approached me. He said he had seen me, and he could turn me in. I was scared. Then, he said he could also teach me to steal without getting caught, and he would take care of me as if I were his own son. This was Vladem Neek. He had a couple of other children who 'worked' for him, but I was his youngest, and his prodigy. With us, he built an empire. We helped him recruit other children who wandered the streets. As he got richer, he started mixing in higher circles."

"What about your parents?"

"I don't remember any. I think they must have been killed, or perhaps I was in an orphanage, I don't really know."

"My parents told me I was born as they were fleeing a drought in some lands far away. I think it was to the south. We settled in a farming and trading community in southern Selenedor. My father always did some kind of manual labor, and he was almost always drunk. My parents would say they were going to do something, but they never did. They always made promises, little ones and big ones, but I can't remember a single one they kept. As I got older, I found myself getting into more arguments with him. He always ended them with a switch. All of that was fine, though, until..." Javan swallowed. Hogarth sat listening, both of them shivering slightly. "Until my older sister left home. One day she was just gone, no word, her things moved out. I heard she had joined a brothel. Actually, I found out about it because some of the other kids in the village were teasing me about it. My parents said they were going to march down to the brothel and force her to come home, but they did nothing. Indeed, they seemed glad not to have to take care of her any more." Javan's voice wavered, and for a moment he was overcome with emotion. Then, he went on. "I went to see her, and she refused to leave. She called me a bratty pest. She said she actually liked it." Javan's voice cracked at the last words.

Hogarth was silent a moment. "So, you left?" he asked.

"So I went back, got into a fight with them, and began packing my saddlebags. My father staggered after me, trying to find his switch, while I saddled up and avoided his grasp."

"Where did you go after that?"

"I came straight here," Javan gestured to the woods around them.

"Why the Knights of Ki?"

"I have always admired them. I saw one once, as he rode through our village on an errand from the south. He seemed...determined. As if nothing would or could stop him. Everything I ever heard of the Knights of the Order of Ki say that they can fight, can not be defeated, and always keep their word. Nothing like my parents."

"That's the truth," said Hogarth. "We have strict orders never to steal from them, just for fear of reprisal. I have heard the same about them you heard, though."

"I think they would protect you, if we can make the Keep."

"Do you think so?" said Hogarth, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Why?"

"They are the champions of the weak and oppressed. I'll talk to the Grand Chancellor. He'll have to help you."

Hogarth leapt to his feet, and a fire shone in his eyes for the first time since Javan had met him. "You give me hope, Javan. For the first time in my life, I think I could actually be someone other than a thief." Overcome with emotion, he threw his arms around Javan's neck. Javan marveled, trying to imagine that such a young boy could have gone through so much, and be so old at this age.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure. I think I'm eleven or twelve."

"That would make you two or three years younger than me. I turned fifteen this summer." They talked on a bit more, then sat in silence for a while, yawning jaw-cracking yawns. "Let's get some sleep," said Javan. A light snoring answered him, and his eyes drooped.

be5fa

The morning was half over when the sudden trill of a nearby bird stirred them. Their muscles already used to a constant ache, they stretched, ate a meager, cold breakfast, and journeyed on. They had a little trouble finding the road, since they estimated a little off and ended up going at an angle in stead of directly toward it. They waited until they could see no one on the road, then entered and continued their journey. A lot more traffic plied the road between Freemount and Calembarey this Firstday (the day after Sabbath).

They left the northern edge of the woods, and entered an area of rolling foothills. These hills, known as The Bumps to the locals, had scattered trees, homesteads, and livestock farms.

As the daylight waned, they reached the gates of Freemount, a little later than Hogarth's estimate. Hogarth had warned Javan that they would have to keep unnoticed as much as possible, because a lot of people owed allegiance (or paid protection money) to Neek. However, they needed to stop and rest for the night, and refill their provisions.

In the last hour or so as they approached the city, Hogarth had developed a slight cough. Javan was worried, though, as they approached the gate, and his cough was getting worse.

They entered the city. The gates were much smaller than Calembarey, and they pierced a wall about the height of a man. The wall had sharp steel blades angled outward at the top, that were kept in good order by the guard so that not one showed rust.

Like Calembarey's main southern gate, Freemount opened out into a square with shops, guilds, and a market, although smaller. All the shops had been closed up for the evening. They headed to Inn Alley, a street with a lot of hostels and inns.

As they walked down the street, they looked to the left in an alleyway between two buildings. A man sat on a crate, smoke rising from a pipe stuck in his mouth. A hood was folded around his neck, and they briefly saw a short graying beard and moustache. When they returned their eyes to the road in front of them, however, their hearts skipped a beat. In the gathering gloom, a dark figure stood, hands on hips, silhouetted against the torch light from a nearby inn.

When the boys moved toward the other side of the street, he moved to be in their way. "Going somewhere?" he asked in a smooth, silky voice. Javan was instantly on alert, and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood as he sensed others behind him. Drawing his sword and spinning, he saw three more men slow down from a trot. The light fell on their faces, and one of them was Junan.

"Thank you for letting me know they were here, Garthan. Good thing I went North to Freemount." An evil smile stole across his face. "If you know what's good for you, you'll drop that sword, boy. If you come willingly, we won't beat you too much."

"Junan, you have pursued us for the last time. Hogarth no longer belongs to you. Leave us, and you will come to no harm." His voice sounded hollow in his ears, and he was sweating as he said it despite the evening chill. Their bags had dropped to the cobbled stones of the street.

Junan laughed, a barking, harsh sound. The others smirked. "You were lucky back at the Bucking Donkey, kid, but we won't underestimate you now. No more talk, get them!"

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