One thing about Green Haven horses, they were fast. Within a few miles, Kalbo had outpaced the Argetallam mounts and lost them in the forest.
Unfortunately, Janir found that they had also lost themselves. They were deep in the thick of the woods, a press of trees boxing them in on all sides. Resolving to keep calm, Janir steered Kalbo into an easterly heading. That should keep them from getting too far into the mountains.
Karile took up talking again, criticizing her every decision. “Shouldn’t we head up higher? You know…where the soldiers can’t follow us?”
Janir clenched her jaw. “Those were no soldiers. At least not from Stlaven.”
Karile was actually quiet for a moment. “What makes you say that?”
A shrug was all he got in response. Janir urged Kalbo into a jog and they pressed onwards. Even if they hadn’t heard any signs of pursuit for a while now, she didn’t want to risk it.
They found a stream shortly after midday, but she didn’t let them stop for more than a few moments. Kalbo couldn’t travel too far too fast, but every time they broke for a bit of recuperation, she kept thinking she heard the Argetallams on their trail again.
Karile argued with everything from the riding arrangement to their current direction, but he did not once protest when she said they should keep moving. Eventually, Janir steered Kalbo where he wanted just to shut him up. He tried not to let her notice, but he kept shooting anxious glances over his shoulder.
Of all the people in Brevia, they might just be the two who should fear Argetallams the most. Enchanters past a certain Degree were untouchable to ordinary mortals, even elves, but the weakest of Argetallams could walk through spells as if they were air.
Janir had never really thought about what would happen to her if she was caught, but it would be wretched, that much was certain. She had no understanding of how to be an Argetallam. With only a small amount of power and seven years’ worth of Brevian ideals pounded into her head, she would surely be seen as a traitor and an enemy. They would kill her, she had no doubts of that.
Even if she was the Lord Argetallam’s firstborn.
By the time the sun set, Janir had no idea where they were. They had been riding all day and though she was plagued by a desire to keep moving, it wouldn’t be fair to Kalbo. Karile was quiet as she selected their stopping place. He peered critically up at the stars, but his usual commentary was forgone at present.
It was a cold, hungry night on the ground. Janir wouldn’t agree to a fire and they had no provisions save for the waterskin. She left Kalbo tied to a thicket where he could at least find a little forage. Meanwhile, she and the enchanter hunkered down in the shelter of the branches. Karile suggested they huddle together to share heat, but Janir would rather freeze.
What had become of Saoven? Had he gotten past the Argetallams? Did he even know where they were?
She shivered and drew the cloak tighter about her shoulders. Armandius, Saoven—the people she cared about were fast being put in jeopardy because of her.
Janir’s mother had been killed by the very men who should have rescued her. They were so terrified by Argetallams in the borderlands that they hadn’t stopped to question if everyone there was a warrior. Aryana had never hurt anyone, but they hadn’t even considered she might be innocent.
As for Janir, she hadn’t so much as left Castle Caersynn’s lands since arriving, yet trouble had found her anyway. Now her world was crumbling because she’d stopped a murder. Why did this have to happen to her?
A rustling startled her from behind and she whipped her head around in terror, but realized it was just Kalbo nuzzling through the thicket. He nosed her hair, lipping affectionately at her braid.
She felt a stab of guilt at the thought of how hard she was being on him. He was fit, but even he shouldn’t be pressed like he had been today.
“I’m sorry,” Janir whispered, petting his velvety nose.