Pulling his purse out, he looked at the paltry handful of coins he’d emptied into his hand. He sighed. That would not get him very far. He could offer to do some stable work for a meal or two; after all, he’d spent enough hours in the stables at Stoneford as a lad.
He stowed his purse away and started down the trail towards the Guardian mountain range, which curved around the city of Old Vespers. He would avoid the port, especially with the number of guards Nikols had sent in that direction. Hopefully, he would reach Greenswatch by sunup, and then he could lose himself in the forests.
Decision made, Jerrol focused on the path ahead of him. He needed to get through the range before the guards reversed their direction. Amongst this sparse vegetation, there was nowhere to hide, and he would be exposed as he climbed the trail. At least he had a head start – in theory at least.
The narrow trail wound up into the foothills, past drystone walls edging empty fields. Some were ploughed, ready for late planting, the rich, red loamy soil drying in the breeze. Others were full of knee-high waving golden stalks of some crop or other.
Catching his breath, he looked down and out towards the city of Old Vespers. It was his home. For the past seven years, he had lived amongst the hodgepodge of buildings and spires, part of the royal court, comfortable in its rhythms. The solid golden towers of the Chapterhouse rose above the buildings, sturdy and practical, a counterpoint to the silvery spires of the palace. A movement caught his eye and he stiffened, but he couldn’t see what it was, and he hurried onwards.
Old Vespers thankfully passed from view as Jerrol entered the first of the dim, narrow passes that cut through the base of the hills and wound its way through to the Greenswatch. As he walked, all sound was deadened in the confining space, and the air was unnaturally still. His pack caught on the crowding rock as the trail narrowed and widened again. He hurried on, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind. It echoed his thoughts.
The narrow walls of the trail finally opened onto a plateau, surrounded by tall pine trees providing a natural windbreak and an oasis of calm air, which felt pleasantly warm in the evening sun. It had taken all day to get through the pass.
After some searching, he found a small cave tucked up in the ridge. A wiry green-leafed bush disguised the entrance. He eased himself in, pushing his pack in front of him, glad for once that he was not a large man. There was a slight alkaline scent lingering after some creature had moved on.
He hunkered down in the dim light and, chewing on a strip of dried meat out of his travel rations, he contemplated his immediate future. He was poorly provisioned for any trip, let alone one travelling around the Watches for a month. His rations would last a few days; he would need to find food, especially if he was going on foot.
His mind spun with unease. He didn’t like leaving the King. Not that the King was unprotected; he had his guards and other rangers after all. But he was the only ranger who seemed concerned about the Chancellor’s sudden elevation or believed that he was up to no good. For him to be accused of treason and removed from the board so easily was worrying.
And then the King had tried to invoke the Oath. He wasn’t sure what the Oath did. No one had ever used it before. The fact that the King thought he needed it meant the King was concerned about something.
The King hadn’t completed the Oath; did that mean it wasn’t in force? Or was it? He was sure the words had flashed in the throne room. Could an oath be half sworn? He rehashed the scene in the throne room, not making it any clearer.
And who had helped him escape? And why? He couldn’t think of anyone he knew who would have taken such a risk, except maybe Jennery and he was still miles away. Exhaustion from stress as well as his flight finally caught up with him, and Jerrol dozed off.
Chapter 4
Greenswatch
Jerrol awoke at the rattle of stones outside his cave. Someone was searching nearby. Stiffening, he felt for his daggers, which were within easy reach. He waited, tense and alert, but no one tried to enter the cave, and after a while all sounds faded away. He relaxed his grip on his daggers and sat listening for the rest of the night. Before the sun came up, his meagre belongings were packed, and he left the cave, daggers at the ready.
After two days of trudging south towards the big river, Jerrol’s feet were blistered, his body ached, and his mood was tense and murderous. If Isseran stood before him now, Jerrol wouldn’t hesitate to take him down. He clenched his fists at the thought.
Someone was following him. He knew it. They kept their distance, but he couldn’t sleep. His senses were on high alert, keeping him tense and jittery. What were they waiting for? Maybe more reinforcements. If so, he couldn’t afford to wait for them to arrive.
On the third night, Jerrol set up camp. The gleam of the large river flickered through the trees that led down to the water’s edge. Following the routine of the previous two nights, he found a small copse of trees and bent them into a shelter with his bedroll. As darkness descended, he melted into the trees.
Circling back around his route, he paused, listening for his trackers. He heard a slight scuff off to his left and froze. The forest
