“No!” Horith shouts next to me at Orrian’s back, “We can’t leave! They’ll hunt us down out there! We need to stay here!” Horith yells in terror.
“Quiet Horith,” Faelyn instructs from the floor, Ryfon has already begun to clean the wound on his leg, “he’s our king,” he adds after a short pause.
Orrian has paused now, I can just make out his back, head bowed, at the edge of the crowd.
“We’ll die out there! He can’t be king! He can’t choose for us! We’ll die!” Horith continues frantically, he searches faces desperately but all refuse to meet his eye.
“It’s his right,” Faelyn says, dejected but honouring the fight.
“WE’RE NOT LEAVING!” he roars, sweeping up Faelyn’s discarded sword and charging after the king.
Jaq dives to tackle him but falls short, getting a heel to the chin. A couple of others try to get in the brutish man’s path but are knocked aside.
The commotion brings Orrian’s attention round to see Horith bearing down on him, the sword already rising behind Horith’s head in its cycle to deal the fatal blow.
Orrian is obscured from view by my ex-guard’s enormity.
The traitorous swing stops mid-air.
A glistening bloody steel tip protrudes from his back briefly, it vanishes moments before Horith falls.
Silence.
Faelyn groans in despair.
Orrian surveys his people once more, seemingly looking each one in the eye, ready for another attack as the blood from his blade slowly drips to re-join its owner below.
For the first time, Orrian’s collected demeanour has been replaced by momentary fury. I wouldn’t even back Edwyn, who may be close to double Orrian’s size, to fight the king with that fire behind those eyes.
Confident that Horith was the last of his challengers, after a long moment Orrian finally continues his exit. Faelyn has kicked Ryfon away towards Horith but we all already know that the man has spluttered his last breaths. Meanwhile Jaq struggles to his feet looking slightly concussed from the connection with his jaw but otherwise fine.
As Faelyn drags himself over to his fallen comrade, everyone begins to disperse, hopeful to reclaim as much of the night as possible before the coming morning, bringing with it our hurried departure from this place.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We haven’t slept all night. Whether it’s been distributing what few weapons we have, packing up the food stores, or creating inventories, we have been running around until dawn getting ready for our departure. I am handing out the last of the newly filled waterskins when the shout to leave echoes around the walls.
With the death of Horith and the relieving of my guards after Orrian’s victory, I have been largely left to my own devices through the night’s passing. Lost at first and with Orrian being far too busy for my interruptions, I had sought out Jaq who had suggested I start picking up the various skins and fabrics littering the floor and draping them around as many shoulders as I could. Whilst it had been the hope of many to get some sleep, due to tomorrow looming and the constant activity barely anyone had managed to shut their eyes for any longer than a half-hour.
The change in my treatment had been immediate following the fight. Over the course of a few hours I was trusted with the distribution of some weapons, mothers left me to care for their children, I even ended up dealing with the precious food supplies, all without any hint of doubt or distrust. As I handed out supplies and aided anyone who needed an extra pair of hands, I found myself in their gratitude, suspicious looks had instantly been replaced and I was now treated as one of their own. Orrian really had proven himself, his bidding and wishes were now to be carried out without the slightest hesitation, even Faelyn was contributing to the efforts.
Upon seeing a pregnant mother with particularly bad feet and remembering the nasty journey back down the mountain that will need to be made in the morning, I even ended up giving her my sorry excuse for shoes. She was unfamiliar with them and so I had to help put them on as best I can, they fit poorly but then again, they didn’t fit me much better. I watch her for a moment getting used to them, occasionally dragging the soles or catching her toes, but eventually she seems to get the hang of them. She thanks me extensively and in return I sit patiently as she cleans the dried blood from off my face surrounding the gash left by the archer. With a hearty farewell and the content recognition of a new ally made, I once more set my feet to navigating the now freezing cold floor.
I can detect no more watchers, Faelyn’s surveillance having been called off, and only the guards posted at the entrance remain in position, all others joining in the activity. I even saw Faelyn, with his wounds covered and a fashioned walking cane now in his grip, hobbling around and aiding with the efforts. Nothing was spared, all inlets and floors were left bare, all food, water, fabrics, and tools that could be packed were organised, even salvageable bits of wood from the various frameworks or staircases littering the cavern that were no longer needed were dismantled and chucked into a heap to be taken with us for repurposing. Small, efficient, manoeuvrable carts were hastily created at the base of the mountain, hidden from sight, where they were slowly filled up, one sack at a time, by individual couriers under the protection of darkness.
We are risking a lot, leaving ourselves largely unguarded, making plenty of noise, and sending people scurrying up and down the mountain. But it is a necessary risk if we want to be gone by the morning, and
