“Tell that to my father. Don’t get me wrong I’ll fight if I must, and I’ll train, I’ll protect whoever I have to, but I don’t want to be the hero. I guess I’ll leave that up to you,” he says with a humourless laugh and a nudge against my shoulder.
My stomach squirms with guilt at the thought of Horas, like all these people, pinning their hopes on me being some legendary fighter. At this moment I envy the boy beside me, able to break off from the others and happily accept his position among the ranks, comfortable with leaving the tales to be fulfilled by another.
At that moment Orrian makes his way over to us, having finished checking in with the guards chosen to stand watch over us for the night. Spotting the exhaustion in his eyes, myself and Horas wordlessly lay back on the platform, waiting for the slight give as Orrian joins us.
With the two trained and muscular fighters each brushing shoulders with me as we close our eyes, I have never before felt so out of place and undeserving of the Akanian title.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“My king,” a voice penetrates the darkness, banishing my confused dreams from sight.
A scuffle behind me and I raise as the weight next to me lessens.
“Wha-” I croak before a hand clamps shut over my mouth.
Immediately my eyes snap open, only unclenching my fists when I recognise the obscured face of Tharrin above me. Through hazy vision I find Orrian pulling himself up off the edge of the bed, beckoning me to come with him. The rumbling snores on my other side tell me that the disturbance clearly hasn’t been enough to disrupt Horas.
Groggily, I sit up and carefully disembark from the low-rise platform. After gesturing for silence, Orrian turns back to the young guard and we silently follow him as he leads us towards the treeline. The ground foliage rustles underfoot as we swiftly disappear from the safety of the camp’s light.
“We found someone,” Tharrin whispers in explanation once far enough away from the others.
“What do you mean? Who?” asks Orrian.
“I realised that someone had moved the horses and followed the tracks into the forest. By the time I caught up he had already finished with them. Jaq’s with him now,” answers Tharrin.
Damnit. If this man has managed to get to our horses, then travelling from now on is going to be considerably slower. The elderly and the children will have to resume carrying their share and even still we might have to leave some stuff behind. We may have been travelling exhausted these last couple of days but without anything to pull the carts we’ll slow to a crawl.
“Do you know who he is?” Orrian repeats.
“No idea, he hasn’t said a word. He was definitely out there to watch us though. He managed to run a little way before I caught him, but we’re close, he didn’t get far,” says Tharrin, picking up the pace.
As if to verify his tale, Tharrin pauses to steer us around a couple of large maned bodies flattening the bushes. My feet fall on damp soil as I pry myself away from the large glassy eyes beneath us.
Another couple of seconds pass before light begins to radiate from some unseen source and voices can be heard. Finally, a scene materialises before us just as an unmistakable thump shakes the silence.
“I said, who are you!” Jaq hisses at a crumpled figure on the ground.
Before him a hooded man lays with his hands bound behind him and his head perched atop an emerging tree root. Beneath the shadow of his cowl, a crooked nose oozes a long fresh trail of blood over a prominent chin. The man is short, possibly shorter than myself, but despite this and his position he still laughs back in Jaq’s face.
Both heads swivel towards us as Orrian purposefully coughs quietly.
“What do we know?” Orrian asks his trusted advisor.
“Not much. He’s refusing to give anything up,” Jaq replies, massaging his knuckles.
Orrian bends low and hoists the man by the armpits, unceremoniously dumping him so that he sits upright against the base of the tree. He squats low, balancing on the tips of his toes with his elbows on his knees. The two are almost touching yet the injured man still raises his head to look his captor straight in the eyes.
“You have two options,” Orrian begins, his voice low and dangerous, “tell us what we want to know, and we will keep you in our captivity, or don’t, and we’ll decide that you aren’t worth the risk.”
The man’s head stoops, causing more droplets to flow from his chin onto his trousers. Orrian takes this as a sign of submission.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Nobody,” the man answers defiantly.
In the darkness it doesn’t even look like young king moved, the sickening thud and the pained groan that accompanies it suggests otherwise. Overhead branches shake as disturbed wings take flight.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, and I think you should really carefully consider your answer,” says Orrian, “Who are you?” he emphasises every word.
For a fraction of a second the man still does not answer, clearly weighing up his options, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to continue playing this dangerous game.
“Spy,” he rasps.
“For who?” Orrian presses immediately, worry overshadowing the triumph.
“You know who,” the spy spits, confirming our fears.
“They know we’re here?” with only the three of us accompanying him, Orrian no longer tries to keep the panic out of his voice.
The spy nods.
“How far?” asks Orrian, shaking the injured man viciously.
At this the man grins up at the king, blood seeping between the cracks in his teeth.
“We’ve been following you this whole time,” he laughs sadistically, “they’ll be here before the next day’s out.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“We can’t outrun them,” Jaq says, “There’s too many of us and he won’t be the only spy out there.”
“No. We can’t,” Orrian agrees grimly, “Bring him back
