Chapter VII - Mairbrac

By the next morning, no opportunity for escape had presented itself and Zoe was beginning to despair that anything could surprise or distract Cormac Alstair. And unless he was taken off guard, she would not have any chance of getting away. The thought of traveling to Meru was not appealing to her; it was at least as far away from Ruma as Braedoch Forest was—no less than a month of travel. She did not even want to think of traveling a whole month in the sole company of Cormac and Jaedon.

She did not fear them, but neither did she want to be under their constant scrutiny. Cormac made her uncomfortable. He threw her off balance; she did not know how to act around him.

Swallowing her frustration, Zoe fastened on the long gray cloak that lay over the bed in her room. The whole house was bare of everything except for some furniture and the carpet in the sitting room. Apparently, Cormac and Jaedon were used to the routine: sell all the artifacts, buy provisions, lock up the house, and go back to where they came from. They had bought food all of the previous week.

She looked down at the cloak she wore and rubbed it musingly. It was soft and heavy, ideal for keeping out winter’s chill. Cormac had bought it for her at the beginning of the cool weather, but she had not worn it once. Now, though she disliked accepting his gift, she realized she had to. She would freeze on their journey if she did not wear it.

Zoe walked out of the room and shut the door quietly. She had grown somewhat fond of the room she stayed in, despite the fact that she constantly called it her “cell.” She walked down the hall. I wish I were not going to Meru, she thought. She spotted Cormac at the front door and lifted her chin. But if I cannot change our destination, I can at least make sure that he doesn’t realize how much I hate it.

“You have everything?” he asked. She could feel his eyes on her and knew he noticed she was wearing the cloak. For some reason this caused faint heat to creep up her cheeks. Furious at herself, she inwardly yelled: What are you doing? Blushing is definitely not acceptable.

“Yes,” she replied shortly, obstinately refusing to meet his gaze. “I’m wearing it all.”

She heard a smile in his tone. “Makes things simple.”

She did not bother replying. Having been informed at breakfast that she would be riding the gray gelding, she walked up to the specified horse and stroked his nose gently. He brushed her hand with his velvety muzzle and she smiled somberly at him. Though he was a different color and size and breed, he still reminded her—painfully—of Brac.

She shook her head at Jaedon, demurring his offer to help her unto the horse, and quickly swung up into the leather saddle. The move was familiar and easy for her to perform. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ordered herself not to show emotion. In reality, however, she felt like curling into a little ball of frustration and pain. She had not ridden a horse since losing Brac months ago, and the mere sensation of a horse’s movement beneath her evoked powerful memories and deep sadness that she had forced herself to bury.

“Are you all right, Zoe?” Cormac’s voice seemed tinged with concern, something she had rarely heard from him.

She opened her eyes and looked at him coolly. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Very well,” he looked skeptical but did not pursue the topic. “Let’s go, then.”

The three of them rode out, Zoe following slightly behind the two men. They turned down one of the main streets and she blinked with surprise. The thoroughfare was clogged with people who milled around the sides of the street, leaving a wide passage down the middle. Cormac and Jaedon rode forward slowly, quickly becoming almost stationary in the tightly packed crowd. Zoe followed them, curious about what was causing the commotion. She had never seen so many people together in one place, even over the last three months that she had been in the busy capital.

“What is going on?” she shouted above the din of the people.

“The Mid-Winter Festivities,” Cormac threw over his shoulder shortly, his tone laced with impatience. “I knew it was today but had not expected it to begin so early.”

“What are the Festivities for?”

“Its name is self-explanatory: a day-long celebration of the middle day of the winter season,” Jaedon replied. The two men were inching their horses through the crowd slowly and Zoe tentatively followed. She did not want to trample on anybody’s feet, or worse, run over a child.

“This is ridiculous,” Cormac said with frustration. The people around and in front of him looked up at him and tried to get out of his way but it helped little. “Let me pass through to the street and neither of us will be hampered by the other.”

“Oh, no,” remonstrated an older woman with a kerchief tied around her head. “King Brastus Alustate is going to be riding down this very street any moment now. None of us dare go where we may be in his path, nor should you, if you are wise.”

Zoe noticed Cormac’s jaw muscles flex as he clamped his teeth together and again wondered why he disliked the Elangsian king so vehemently. She was not fond of the king but she had a valid reason: he was the ruler of the country that enslaved her. Cormac had no grounds to detest the man, or not any that she could see.

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Of all the days to choose to leave Ruma, I would choose the day of the Mid-Winter Festivities, Cormac thought darkly. It was almost impossible to move through the thick, loud throng. If they stopped crowding so close to the buildings that lined the street and moved toward the center of the thoroughfare a little more, he would be able to ride out of the city easily. However, since the king was coming at some undetermined but approaching time, no one was willing to risk his wrath should they obstruct his progress in the convoy.

Ten minutes passed slowly and Cormac continued slowly moving through the mass. I should have been out of this worthless city by now, he thought with irritation, but contained his emotions with well-practiced restraint.

He glanced behind himself and saw that Zoe was nearby, her eyes large as she took in all the festivities around. He wondered if she had ever seen so many people gathered into one place before. Over the last couple months, he had been unable to get much information out of her, but still he was relatively certain she had lived a sheltered life. Not sheltered in a pampered way, of course. She was stubborn, but not spoiled. She was at ease and comfortable in solitude, which showed him that she was used to making it on her own.

Trumpets sounded, interrupting his thoughts, and he glanced down the street. All the people around him erupted with even louder babbling, and he grimaced a little. He could hardly wait to get free of this place.

The royal entourage was in view and getting steadily closer. Bodyguards who wore colorful crimson capes rode past first, their eyes roving the crowd from their perches atop matching black horses. Behind them were armor-clad military leaders and a few ladies of the court, carried on litters. Finally, King Brastus Alustate rode past, Queen Maurelle and Princess Brysa following him in their private litters. The queen bore herself with grace, her frame clad with rich, heavy garments for protection against the cold air and her black hair adorned with sparkling diamonds that dangled from her gold diadem. Her dark eyes occasionally flashed with a hard edge that was expertly concealed; Cormac had long seen it. He suspected being the wife to the cruel king was no light burden to bear.

Her daughter looked like a younger version of Maurelle, possessing the same midnight-black hair and dignified bearing. She lacked both the polished demeanor and harsh bitterness of her mother, though Cormac did not doubt it would come with time if the princess’s lot in life did not change. The princess and queen smiled and dutifully acknowledged at the crowd, following the king’s example, but Cormac hardly gave either of them more than a cursory glance. His eyes were focused on the king; all his attention concentrated on the ruler of Elangsia.

King Brastus was a tall, well-proportioned man, rather fit but with a small paunch. His hair was golden, but woven through with silver, and his blue-gray eyes reminded Cormac of a pond at dawn on a cloudy day. The king was dressed finely, with a velvet outfit of royal blue and a long cloak dyed a rich purple. Cormac had no doubt the man had on a coat of chain mail underneath his finery. His crown sat atop his proud head, glinting in the pale sunlight.

It was all Cormac could do to restrain himself from riding out to challenge the man.

His eyes narrowed as his anger seethed. I am waiting for the day, Brastus, he silently said, that I will come and throw you off from your pitiful throne and rid your undeserving head of that crown. I am patient; your day will come.

Jaedon laid a hand on Cormac’s arm and Cormac heard his mentor’s voice come over the din of the crowd. “Careful” was all he said, but Cormac knew that he should listen…that he must listen.

He struggled to get a hold on his anger as the king passed by. Slowly the blinding emotion subsided, and he took a long, deep breath. “Thank you.” Nothing else had to be said. Jaedon understood completely. Cormac looked over at Jaedon and was taken aback by the serious look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you see where Zoe went?”

Cormac looked over his shoulder and stopped in surprise. There was no sign of Zoe or her steed in the crowd around them. His eyes grew hooded. Where did she go?

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Zoe cantered out of the southern gate atop the gray gelding, her heart beating in a steady cadence to match the horse’s hooves. They clattered off the paved road and unto the frost-hardened dirt. She glanced behind herself and was relieved, and shocked, to see that nobody was following her. Still she did not allow herself to relax; not until she had put miles between her and Ruma would she breathe freely.

She had stayed behind Cormac and Jaedon during the royal procession, struck dumb by the sheer activity around her. It had taken her until she was watching the royal cavalcade pass that she had her chance: the chance she had been waiting months for. For a scant moment, both Cormac and Jaedon were occupied with something and were paying her no heed. Cormac hated the king and could not take his eyes off the man. That was obvious from the way his face hardened and shoulders tensed. Jaedon had seemed mildly hostile too, but definitely more in control than Cormac. Zoe had glanced to the left and noticed an alley that would not be hard to reach. Without a second thought, she had urged the gelding toward the alley, past the few people obstructing her, and darted away. The gelding had been pleased to get away from all the fuss and broke into a canter the moment they left the alley and turned down a main street.

She had observed a great deal over the last months about the layout of the city and knew where each of the four main gates was located. The southern gate did not take her long to find. It would point her along the basic route to Mairbrac and Aerilya, while also taking her in the opposite direction of Meru. Killing two birds with one stone, she thought.

Now that she was out of Ruma and riding away, she took a deep breath and ordered herself to calm down.

She could not help grinning, however. The very air seemed to smell better; it was the taste of victory on her tongue. She had escaped, successfully so far. And as long as I keep my guard up and wits around me, I should be able to evade capture again. Her brow lowered. Not ‘should,’ will. I will evade capture. I will never be a slave again.

She continued down the road she was on, and gradually the miles slipped away. Her nerves were still tense and kept her alert and free from fatigue. She wished for a weapon but decided that she could get one later. Besides, she did not need to bother killing supper: Cormac had so graciously given it to her already. Zoe smiled slightly as she dismounted late in the night and pulled the saddle pack off the gelding. Inside was a good supply of food, definitely enough to keep her fed until she reached Mairbrac. It had originally been her provisions for the journey to Meru. Well, they’ll serve the same purpose now, only I’m heading away from Meru rather than toward it.

She had selected a small clump of bushes as her resting place for the night, and went without a fire to ward of the chance of detection. She pulled the heavy cloak around her and rubbed her hands vigorously together to keep them warm. Still, the cold of night pervaded and she could feel it seeping deeper into her body as time slipped by. Finally, she stiffly stood to her feet, walked around the small enclosure of branches and brambles for a few minutes to get her blood circulating again, and then burrowed a nest in the fallen leaves. Thankfully, no snow had accumulated in the protected hollow and the leaves were dry. The foliage provided a layer of insulation against the chill and the cloak trapped her body heat, warming her effectively.

Despite the warmth, her mind was still running full speed, spewing ideas, thoughts and worries, most of them illogical. What if Cormac finds me in the middle of the night? What if somebody else finds me and I can’t get away from them? She smiled wearily. Well, it took me three months, but I still managed to get away from the most vigilant pair of men I’ve ever met. Not that I’ve met that many men in my life, but regardless, I accomplished what I originally thought would be impossible.

She settled down into the leaves and sighed deeply. I’ve got to sleep, she thought. Otherwise, I won’t be able to function tomorrow…. She yawned hugely. Her eyes drifted shut and finally, she slept.

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Two day passed by in a blur of steadily clopping hooves, cutting snow-filled breezes, and frosty nights. Weariness invaded Zoe and settled at her very core, compliments of the poor sleep she received. The nightmares had returned.

For months after the banishment she had dreamed of Duard’s cold ways or relived the emotions she had felt when she had left her childhood home. Sometimes the dreams were about her journeying back home, but they would then take a sick twist and she would find all her siblings lying dead. She always awoke with a feeling of terror. The nightmares had eventually begun to taper off and she only had them once every month or so. Now, however, they had plagued her for the last two nights since she left Ruma. It disrupted her sleep and kept her nerves raw. It was almost as if she were reliving the horrible last days in Braedoch all over again.

She now regretted how she had spent the final three days at her old home. She had taken Brac deep into the forest and not returned until the morning of the third day, having realized suddenly that she still had to pack. By then, all her brothers and sisters had left, save for Sam and Aiden. She wondered what she would have said to the girls before they separated, or how she would have bid Taerith farewell. Arnan had left so quickly she had not even realized he was gone until he was far from them all. In some ways, she was glad she had not had to observe them leave. It had broken her heart merely watching Sam walk out of sight; she did not know how she would have handled saying goodbye to them all. And after being torn apart from her twin, she had had to face Aiden. It had taken all her willpower when riding away from her oldest brother to honor his last instructions to her—don’t look back.

She took a shuddering breath of crisp air and forced her mind away from her dark thoughts. It was a misty morning, but promised to be a clear day. Everything around her was covered in a thick layer of wispy fog; it muted the sound of the gelding’s hooves as he steadily traversed down the road, tossing slushy clods of snow up behind him when he raised his hooves. Above her, through faint layers of vapor, she could see the sky was painted glorious colors of gold, pink, and orange. Soon, the sun would rise high from the eastern end of the world and burn through the mist to reveal her surroundings. Until then, she would enjoy the ethereal atmosphere of the chilly morning.

It was about nine o’clock by her estimation when the fog finally cleared. She pulled the gelding to a stop and shaded her eyes with her hand, squinting into the distance. A smile slowly worked its way up her face. Finally, she thought with satisfaction.

Spread out on the horizon was a large dark shadow that Zoe recognized as Mairbrac Forest. Towering even further behind the forest were the Cirthian Mountains, tall and majestic. She stared at them silently for a long time, entranced by the sparkle of the sun on the glaciers and snow that decorated their soaring peaks. The mountains were too high and cold to travel through unless one knew the way. She had taken a small pass that was mostly unoccupied and stayed on and around it for over a year. Mountain goats and other creatures were her sustenance, and Brac found patches of grass and mountain springs that kept him alive. A year ago, after weathering a terribly frigid winter, she spent most of the summer up there and then descended into the land she now knew was Aerilya.

She turned her gaze back to Mairbrac and predicted the distance remaining to reach it. Probably by the late evening hours she would reach the edge of the forest. The thought encouraged her and she squeezed her legs against the gelding’s sides. He compliantly moved forward, breaking into the comfortable, steady canter that she was used to. They had established a routine for their traveling: canter for a time and then trot, canter again, then back to trotting. They repeated the cycle all day long, which preserved the gelding’s strength and kept their pace regular.

She did not break for midday, instead eating her meal from the saddle. The sight of the forest prompted her to keep going. By now she was relatively sure that Cormac and Jaedon would not find her, even if they had followed her. She was far from Ruma and even further from Meru. I have escaped him forever, she thought with satisfaction. At last something has gone right.

“Next I must find this Hunter,” she muttered. The sound of her own voice was loud and strange to her ears. It had been days since she had heard a human voice; she had carefully avoided the few fellow travelers who had passed her anywhere close at hand.

Zoe dismissed those thoughts and mentally refocused on her goal. She had not forgotten her promise to Grace; she would not abandon the little girl. Somehow, hopefully with the Hunter’s help, she would find Grace and set her free. Perhaps she could even track down Marissa, Tryna, and Rebekka. “Before I can do any of that, I have to find him, though,” she repeated. “If he’s been around for twelve years and evaded death or capture for that amount of time, he must be very crafty. The Elangsians and their king want him dead from what I saw during my stay in Ruma. It could be difficult finding him.”

Despite that knowledge, Zoe was confident she would locate the man. Whoever he was, he had never met anybody with as much determination as Zoe Romany. She would never stop looking until she had found him.

True to her predictions, she reached the forest by nightfall. Unlike the last time she had been in its depths, the trees were now bare and trimmed with glittering ice, having long since dropped their leafy glory. Now they stood looking naked and forlorn, but they still offered some amount of protection from wind and the snow that sometimes fell. The ground was completely frozen, and snow had accumulated. In Mairbrac it was not deep; perhaps only a hand’s-breadth in places.

It was dark but Zoe continued riding. The ground was not smooth; it was hilly and full of small rises and drops, causing her progress to slow considerably. Small patches of ice—remains of merry streams that danced through the trees during the warm parts of the years—were treacherous beneath the gelding’s hooves and she struggled to avoid them, but the darkness make it difficult. Fallen trees and low branches also obstructed her path, but she persevered. The image of the crackling, blessedly hot fire she planned to build when she stopped kept her going for a little longer. She patted the neck of the gelding and murmured, “Good boy. Keep going.”

He snorted and did not slow.

She peered around for some pines. They offered more protection than the other species of trees would. It was difficult for her to see and she was beginning to think about stopping regardless of whether she found some pines or not when she heard a faint sound from ahead and to the left of where she was. The gelding’s ears flicked. He had heard it as well.

She raked the section of forest in the direction of the noise, straining her ears and eyes for…what? It might have been an animal, she thought uncertainly. Again she wished for a weapon. If it were a bear or even worse a dragon, gryphon or other such creature, she had nothing to defend herself with. She had nothing against the fierce and somewhat mysterious creatures she had heard of through her siblings. She had even seen a gryphon once, near Braedoch, but she had been wise enough to leave it be, knowing that they were not to be trifled with.

However, her careful search of the woods around her yielding not an animal, but a small flicker of light in the distance. At first she thought she had imagined it, but then she saw it again and she knew it was a fire. It was very far in the distance, but it meant warmth. And people, she thought warily. She weighed the risks of going closer versus avoiding it completely. The air was now freezing; a fire would feel heavenly. But she knew nothing of the people who had built the blaze. Pursing her lips, she urged the gelding closer. She could remain hidden until she decided who the people were. If they were potential friends, she could seek their company; if they were enemies, it would not be overly difficult to evade them.

It took her a long time to get closer to the fire since it was now almost completely dark and impossible to see anything. Twice she was almost swept off the gelding’s back by miscreant branches. The faint noise that she had heard before came again, and she realized it was music. As she drew closer, she spotted more fires and realized that she had stumbled across a very large encampment. The only question is, what manner of camp is it?

She finally came close enough to observe some activity around the fires. She quickly identified it as a military outpost: all the men walking around wore uniforms of some sort and weapons were visible everywhere. Swords were attached to baldrics and strapped across the men’s backs; battle-axes were stacked leaning against each other in a cone-like configuration; a man was waxing a bowstring. She spotted a fiddler, his music the source of the sound she had heard in the first place, stomping his foot in time with his lively tune. But are they Elangsian or Aerilyan? she wondered cautiously as she quietly dismounted and crept to stand by the gelding’s head. How am I supposed to figure that out?

A faint crack came from her right and she whirled, her hand dropping to her side and groping for the dagger that was not there. “Do not move,” a stern voice came, and Zoe clenched her teeth. She searched the darkness and saw the faint outline of two men who held drawn swords. “State your business quickly.”

So much for evading their notice, she thought dryly. She looked at them and said in a calm voice, “My name is Zoe. I am looking for a man called the Hunter. Have you any information on his whereabouts?”

“It’s a girl!” exclaimed the second man under his breath to his companion.

No, really? she thought with a hint of sarcasm but did not speak.

“The Hunter, hmm?” The first man’s voice was difficult to read without accompanying facial expressions so Zoe continued in silence. She still could not figure out if they were Elangsian or Aerilyan. Until she discovered that, it was best for her to keep quiet and not reveal too much.

The first man spoke again. “Come. You will be questioned in the camp.”