Ryl looked up at Rolan, patting Faya on the head as he stood. She smiled and waved in Andr's direction. The mercenary, who was watching the surrounding forest, waved absently, offering a quiet, yet polite, hello.
Rolan held his hand out as Ryl stood. His grip was firm, the look of gratitude in his eyes unmistakable.
“We need to leave this area with haste,” Ryl announced, changing the subject. “Andr, seek out the farmer, see how far this river travels from his lands. I hesitate to parade us back through Milstead. There were few on the street, yet the commotion was surely noted.”
“Aye, Ryl,” Andr agreed. “Stick to the trees and follow the river to the south. Return to the opposite bank at the first safe crossing beyond the town. Find somewhere to hide and wait for my return. I'll bring the phrenic.”
Ryl nodded to his friend.
“Stay hidden. Stay safe,” Andr instructed. “We'll meet again shortly.”
Without another word, the mercenary turned and stalked back into the woods toward the river.
“Come, let's leave this cleaning,” Ryl said. “Let the hunters have it.”
They moved quickly and quietly away from the blood-soaked opening in the forest, leaving the bodies of the butchers to the elements. They would never again hunt the living. They would never again wrest child from family.
Ryl breathed a sigh of relief as they slipped into the forest beyond. The air was immediately fresher, free from the metallic stench of blood and death. The calming natural aromas of the forest: earth, leaves and pine soothed his senses. His stomach settled as the last of the blood-drenched leaves passed behind him. The devastation he had wreaked was horrifying.
He was thankful young Faya lacked the ability to see. Though her story to this point was yet unknown, she needn't have witnessed what he'd done in the clearing. No child should.
No one should.
It wasn’t long before Rolan broke the silence of their trek.
“Perhaps another mile downstream there is a crossing where a large tree fell across the water,” he said. “There's a cave in the rocks not far from there where we hid for a few days. We can wait for your friends there.”
Ryl stopped, quickly scanning the area with his eyes and mindsight. He nodded his head in agreement.
“I'll follow you, my friend,” he offered. “Lead on.”
He paused as the two moved by. Faya looked up at him, smiling wide as she strode by, her hand clutched to the back of her father's shirt. Ryl could see where the fabric was stretched from the constant pull of the youngster on his tail.
How many miles had they traveled like this?
They moved onward in silence. Their pace was sluggish as they crossed the rocky ground through the forest that ran along the western side of the river. Ryl could tell the uneven terrain was enacting a wearisome toll on both father and daughter alike.
Stepping over a large flat boulder, Rolan slipped as his foot came down on the soft, wet moss that lined its side. He toppled forward, pulling Faya down with him. His pack slipped from his shoulder, sliding to a stop a few steps away.
“Faya, my dear, are you alright?” he asked kindly as he helped his child to her feet.
“Yes, father,” was all she replied. She rubbed gently at a small scratch that had opened on her arm.
By the time the pair regained their footing, Ryl had already collected their errant pack, easily tossing it over his shoulder. He was shocked by the trivial weight of the bag. They had likely been forced to leave in a hurry. Though assuredly stuffed with clothing and supplies, their bag couldn't have contained more than a few days of limited rations. Even so, the extra burden on the flagging shoulders of Rolan, light as it was, was dragging him down.
“Let me carry this load for you,” Ryl offered.
Rolan opened his mouth to retort. Ryl countered with a wave of acceptance before the words could leave the father’s lips. The tired man simply nodded his head in defeat. Young Faya looked up at Ryl, a profound expression of knowing flashing across her face. She winked at him as her haunted gaze met his. Her father took her hand, guiding it to his shirt as they resumed their careful trek through the forest.
True to Rolan’s word, they soon reached the fallen tree that formed a precarious crossing over the narrow span of river. Their speed, though sluggish, was of little concern to Ryl. It would still be some time before Andr returned to the farm, gathered the phrenics and set out to find them.
The forest thinned as it reached the edge of the river. The large, thick trunk of an ancient tree stretched across both banks. On the opposite bank, the massive mound created by the circumference of its upturned roots formed a circular wall nearly five meters high. The rays of the sun had broken through the pervasive mist of the morning, burning off the dampness that had hung low in the air.
They paused momentarily at the edge of the tree. Rolan spoke softly to Faya before scooping her up, sitting her gently on the trunk of the fallen giant. The branches of the tree had been stripped bare of their leaves by the passage of time. The bark was overgrown with moss due to the constant moisture from the water below. Rolan clambered up, directing Faya onto his back. The young girl clung tightly to her father, her arms locked around the front of his neck.
Their passage over the rolling waters below was harrowing and time consuming. Thankfully, the crossing was accomplished with relative ease. The dead branches of the enormous tree stood erect in the air, allowing for staggered yet firm handholds. Ryl hovered a pace behind throughout their balancing act, ready to help should they again need assistance.
He saw Rolan breathe a heavy sigh of relief as they clambered down from the uprooted
