Chapter 4
Sora awoke with the toe of a boot in her back.
“Wake up, girl. We’re leaving.”
She groaned and sat up, every fiber of her body in pain. She felt as stiff as an old woman, and twice as sore. There was a light mist through their camp, just enough to make her shiver with cold. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and scowled at the retreating figure of Crash. What a rude awakening! She wasn't afraid to make faces at him — as long as his back was turned.
With a small sigh of annoyance, Sora pulled her cloak about her and started to rub down her legs, trying to get rid of the chill. She brushed a few of the leaves from her clothes. It took a long moment for her to realize that her hands were no longer tied. Her heart leapt — then plummeted. Perhaps she wasn't tied up, but she was still a captive, and they obviously weren't concerned about her escaping. She posed no threat at all.
After she felt a little warmer, Sora climbed awkwardly to her feet and lifted her satchel. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t care to ask her captors for breakfast. I'd rather starve! The less she had to talk to them, the better. Who knew, maybe if she ignored them long enough, they would just let her go. She glanced around at this thought, suddenly uncertain. By the way, where were her two captors?
As though reading her thoughts, Dorian's voice drifted to her: “Women are always more beautiful in the morning, especially after a night on the cold ground!” His words were sharp and crisp on the misty air.
Sora ignored the Wolfy as he entered the clearing. He was on top of a pretty brown horse, which she assumed he had stolen. She avoided making eye contact, even when he pulled up next to her. “Is her Highness ready to leave?” he said with a bite.
Sora's cheeks flushed, but she refused to answer. She hated the way he talked to her — like I'm a spoiled brat! Sure, maybe she had grown up with wealth, but she had never had normal things like loving parents or friends or birthday parties or privacy....
She straightened her shoulders and gave him a stiff nod. Dorian abruptly reached down with a gloved hand. She stared up at him, surprised.
“Well, sweetness? Get on!” he said impatiently. “Or do you need a footstool? Maybe a nice cushion to sit on?”
Sora could take no more. With a huff of anger, she glared and shoved away his hand. “In case you’re wondering,” she bit out, “or in case you’re deaf, my name is Sora, not sweetness, or sweetheart, or sweet-anything! And I’m not a pampered little princess! In fact, I'd rather walk than ride on your stupid horse!” She spat at his feet, though she wasn't very good at spitting.
The expression on Dorian’s face made her words worth it, and Sora braced herself, expecting to be killed on the spot. At least I’ll die happy. She was ready for the swing of a sword, or a kick from his boot. Then, much to her surprise, the short man threw back his head and roared with laughter, his pointed ears twitching with mirth.
“So the girl has some spirit after all!” he shouted. Then he reached down, grabbed her forcefully by the arm, and dragged her onto the horse behind him — his strength made her gasp. “Dorian’s the name, thieving is the trade, and I’m very relieved to finally meet your acquaintance!”
She stared at the back of his head, still shocked. This doesn’t make any sense at all. Shouldn't he be trying to kill me now? She thought of Crash's threats from the night before and the pink scratches along her neck.
“Uh, yes, nice to meet you,” she said carefully.
He was still laughing. “Keep that attitude and we’re going to get along just fine,” he said. With that, he tugged on the reigns and whirled the horse around, setting off through the trees. Sora had to grab his hips for balance; it was awkward, and she tried to touch him as little as possible.
He seemed to be in a good mood, though she couldn't imagine why. She must have done something right for a change. The Wolfy hummed to himself as they started through the forest, an old woodland tune that Sora had heard the yard workers sing during the long afternoons, while trimming the grass or weeding the flowerbeds. Its familiarity was soothing, something that she could connect with home.
After a few minutes, she cleared her throat. “Uh... thanks for untying my hands,” she said, hoping to make peace.
“It was the most practical thing to do,” the thief replied. “Don't see how you could ride otherwise. Just don't try anything stupid. I’d hate to do away with someone as pretty as yourself.”
It was a sharp reminder of her position. Sora shut her mouth, clamming up, her sense of relief dissipating. No, these were not her friends, and she was not safe yet — but at least she was more comfortable. So he thinks I'm pretty, huh? she thought with a little smirk. She glanced down at her stained shirt and felt the unexpected urge to laugh. How refreshing to be in day-old clothes! She hoped she would get dirtier before the day was done.
“Git!” Dorian clicked his tongue to the horse and it moved into a smooth, fast trot. Sora wasn't expecting the sudden change of pace, and held on tighter. The horse found a trail and they followed it through the woods, ducking under low branches, picking their way around rocks. She could only assume that they were following Crash's lead, though she hadn't caught a glimpse of him since waking — what a relief! With any luck, she wouldn't see the killer until nightfall.
Almost an hour passed in dull silence. The trail moved through dense forest and hidden meadows strung with wildflowers, yellow and blue petals scattered through the shade. Sora tried to entertain herself by bird watching; she counted twenty-three species before losing track. There were large black ones, skinny little red ones, and a few plump yellow birds that kept following their horse, flitting quietly from branch to branch, obviously waiting for seeds to fall or nuts or crumbs. Then the path opened up and joined with a main road, open fields to their right and the forest to their left. The trees fell away, as did the birds, leaving her with an open sky above, and the speck of a hawk on the horizon. She wondered how far away she was from her estate — probably quite a ways. She had never seen farmland like this before.
“Where are we?” she finally asked, her curiosity loosening her tongue.
“A good ways from where we were, I can assure you that,” Dorian answered vaguely.
Sora frowned. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. She tried again. “So... where are we going?”
“To Mayville,” he answered. “We’re low on supplies, and your purse is a bit too heavy.” She could hear the humor in his voice, then it disappeared. “And we’re... uh... meeting someone near there.”
Sora no longer cared about her money; it seemed a trivial matter, especially considering her current situation. And if she had cared about money, she never would have ran away from her manor. At the thought of arriving in Mayville she brightened, even though she wouldn’t be in the best of company. Oh, who cares who I’m with! I’ve never been to a town before. I wonder if Mayville is anything like the towns in the books I’ve read. She might have been sheltered growing up, but she was more than ready to explore.
“Are you going to let me walk around? I mean, when we get there?” she wondered aloud.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he answered. “You'd go straight to the authorities.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” she muttered under her breath, though in truth she wasn’t sure if she meant it. She didn’t know about that Crash character, he seemed too dangerous... and there was her father's murder to consider. “Just what sort of business are you two in, anyway?”
“I believe I've mentioned that before, sweetheart.” He made the endearment sound like a curse. “I’m a thief extraordenaire.”
“A criminal,” Sora put it bluntly.
“Ah, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” he corrected, holding up a studious finger. “I redistribute wealth. See? The economy needs me. Otherwise the rich would be far too rich, and the poor, well, they would be even poorer.” He chuckled at this, though Sora didn't see the humor. She thought for a moment of her next question, wond
ering if it was really a safe thing to ask. Her curiosity got the better of her. Hell, I’ll just be wondering about it for the rest of the day anyway. “And Crash?” she pressed timidly. “What about him? What was he doing in my manor?”
“His job.”
Sora’s features turned grim. “He killed my father,” she stated the obvious. “I know what kind of job that is — he’s an assassin.”
“He’s a business man,” Dorian countered darkly. “And very good at what he does. Don’t try to romanticize him into anything he’s not. Take my advice, Sora, and don’t cross him.”
Maybe it was his unexpected use of her name, or perhaps the deadly taint to his words, but Sora felt a shiver run through her. She didn’t need Dorian to tell her anything more. She knew the truth, and it left her even more conflicted.
Thinking of the assassin, she looked up ahead and scanned the road. Crash was riding in front of them, wasn't he? How hard can it be to find a singular horse and a man wearing black? Surprisingly enough, it took her a long couple of minutes before she spotted him in the shade of a patch of trees, watering his horse at a thin stream. He was far ahead, barely visible.
“A professional at his work, one of the most skilled I’ve ever seen,” the thief murmured, obviously following her gaze. “And he certainly knows how to take care of his animals.”
Sora snorted; she didn’t care if he braided his horse's mane and polished its hooves. Assassins were evil, pure evil. She glared at Crash's dim figure, hating every bone in his body. He deserved to be thrown in jail — no, worse — executed, beheaded, hung up like the villain he was.
Then her thoughts were interrupted by a firm rumble in her stomach, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten any breakfast that morning.
“Hungry?” Dorian taunted, then an apple appeared before her face. “Don’t expect anything more than this. On the road you eat small amounts when you have the time.”
“I know that!” Sora said defensively, but took the offered fruit anyway. She bit into it, letting the juice dribble down her chin. At that moment she didn’t think she’d ever tasted anything so sweet. She could have eaten at least three more.
Her eyes still lingered on the shadow of the assassin as he remounted his horse and turned it back to the road. He really was a marvelous rider, controlling the horse almost as though it was an extension of his own body. It was then that another thought occurred to her, and the question spilled from her mouth.
“Crash is just his nickname, right?” she theorized, then gave a small laugh. “I mean, I'm not trying to pry-” well, sort of. “But that's not a very... eh... common name.”
She could tell Dorian was smiling. “Pretty and intelligent,” he murmured. “Goddess, I think I'm in love!”
“No, really!” Sora said, flushing in embarrassment. “What’s his real name?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Sora shuddered at the thought. Speak to Crash? And get my tongue cut out? “I think I’ll pass, thank you very much,” she replied.
Dorian laughed again, then urged the horse to go faster. Abruptly the forest vanished from the roadside and they entered a large, featureless stretch of farmland. Sora looked around at the green, flowing fields; not very exciting. Now there was nothing of interest to look at, and no shade from the Spring heat. She bent her head to the sun, already burning. A thin sheen of sweat spread across her forehead. I should have brought a parasol, she thought. Maybe in town she would buy a hat. Or maybe Dorian would steal one for her. She would have to remember to ask.
* * * * *
By night they had entered another patch of woodland. They set camp amidst the trees, a few dozen yards from the road. Sora was aching and sore from a day spent in the saddle, but she told herself to get used to it, and passed her time in stormy silence while Dorian and Crash dealt with dinner. The assassin went out to hunt and returned quickly with two rabbits in hand. Sora couldn't help but marvel at his skill; she hadn't seen any wildlife all day, except for a few birds.
Crash set the rabbits on a spit over the fire, then the three sat back to wait for the food to cook. Sora found herself glancing at the mysterious killer, wondering again and again who he was and what they were running from — because she had decided by this point that they were running from something. Their fast pace didn't make sense otherwise. Why should I even care? With any luck, the authorities would catch up with them and she would be rescued. Then she thought about her manor and her thankfully-never-to-be husband. Was anyone even looking for her? It was a sudden and startling idea; what if they caught up with her and roped her back into the marriage noose? Or... what if no one was looking for her at all? What if nobody cared?
“So can you play that flute, or is it just for decoration?” Dorian asked, interrupting her disturbing thoughts. “Goddess knows we could use some music around this camp fire.”
Sora’s head snapped up and she looked at him, startled. “What?”
“That flute in your bag, dear,” he sneered. “Or did my eyes deceive me? Was that just a twig?”
Sora briefly considered lying and saying that it was, indeed, just a useless twig — but she was bored, and Dorian’s challenges were becoming a welcomed distraction. She actually wanted to rise to this one. With a nod and a smirk of her own, she reached for her pack and brought out the plain wooden pipe, studying it from all angles. It was beat up and scratched from the long ride, but it was a similar model to the one she had been taught on. She had practiced for most of her life; young noblewomen were expected to play an instrument. She had tried the harp and the piano but hadn't been very good at either.
“It’s not some intricate machine,” Dorian said when she continued to inspect the instrument.
“I know,” she grunted indignantly. Truthfully, she had been stalling, trying to remember the most recent song she had learned. With a glare in his direction, Sora raised the flute to her lips. Paused. It took her a moment to regain the notes, and she shifted her fingers several times before they settled in the right position. The only melody she could think of was a light springtime tune, and she figured it would help lift the dreary atmosphere. She started off slowly, lightly breathing against the mouthpiece, the notes drifting hesitantly across the crackling fire.
She played for several minutes, gaining confidence, looping the melody around as she had been taught to do with light improvisation. Soon the tension in the small camp flowed away, replaced by the airy, cheerful sounds. She glanced around, curious. Dorian sat across from her, head back and eyes closed, completely relaxed. She felt that this was a rare moment, something that didn't happen often. Then her eyes darted to Crash and she was surprised to find that he, too, had closed his eyes. His shoulders were slumped against the trunk of a tree. It must not be often that a traveler heard music; she hadn't thought of that before. There had always been musicians and other entertainers housed in her manor, but out on the road was a different story. Sora felt slightly more bold — at least no one’s actually watching me — and she continued into another song.
She had just reached the chorus of the second song when a faint jingling noise reached her ears. At first she thought it was a wagon passing on the road, but the sound grew and grew and did not fade. Finally, she frowned and lowered the flute.
The sound stopped too.
Her frown deepened. Well, that was strange, having my imagination run away like that.... When she turned back to her companions, she found that they were both staring at her. She shrugged a bit self-consciously, gave Dorian a small smile, and raised the flute to her lips again. Probably just the wind through the branches.
This time she had only reached the second measure when the bells starting jingling again. It started as a tickle on the edge of her ears, then turned into a rush of sound. Sora came to another abrupt stop, thinking to catch the noise off guard, but it also stopped just as fast. She whirled to look around the darkness behind her, sure she had heard something rustling in the underbrush. I'm
not going crazy, I'm not! Nothing stirred but the wind. She bit her lip in confusion. I might be a little paranoid of the forest... but this is ridiculous.
“What is it, Sora?” Dorian asked quietly. He sounded uncharacteristically serious. Her alarm must be apparent.
Sora turned back towards them, embarrassed. “Do you... do you hear sleigh bells?” she asked carefully. She didn’t want to sound like a loony, though it was probably unavoidable.
The wolf-man twitched his long ears, an almost comical sight, then shook his head. Sneered. “Unless you’re referring to the crickets, no. Why?”
“I...” Sora saw the way they were looking at her, and decided it was best to say nothing. “No reason, just... never mind.”
She bent back over her flute and began playing again, but this time the music was wrought with wrong notes, and she was concentrating much harder on the noises in the forest. The sense of peace had dispersed from their camp, and it seemed that her two companions were also listening to the woods. The crickets had hushed, and the only sound was the brush of leaves and grass, perhaps the far off jitter of a forest creature, certainly nothing larger than a raccoon. Right? For a long minute she played, doubt beginning to grow — maybe the long day is getting to me — but just when she started to relax, the jingle of bells started again, this time alarmingly loud.
It was too much. Sora leapt to her feet, spinning around and pointing dramatically at the trees. “There! Don’t you hear it?” The woods were still, silent, but she could sense something just beyond the shadows, feel it moving around, like a worm under her skin. It made her want to squirm. The jingling noise was persistent, ever-growing in volume, louder and louder and louder....
“Sora!” The two men stood up in alarm. They both stared at her in surprise. Dorian jumped to her side, as though to restrain her. “What are you doing?”
“How can you not hear it?” she demanded, aware that she sounded panicked. “It’s so loud!”