white and green, his feet racing nearly as fast as his mind. Screaming from behind him and to the left meant Randal had been found.
"There’s still another one, boys!" a rider yelled to the rest. “He can’t be far! Flush him out!"
Wayra dove through the brush, gaining speed and losing control. He raced in the straightest line he could manage, knowing all the while that the snow was painting a trail behind him. Panic rose within, and his blood coursed wildly through him. He was terrified, and yet had not felt this alive in years. His path became reckless and his risks became greater as the sound of horses grew behind him. The voices of men echoed off the trees and Wayra felt as though he was close to flight.
A hill crested before him and Wayra didn’t pause to debate the choice. He planted a foot into the berm and launched himself into the air. His face burned in the frigid air and his limbs wheeled in slow motion as he floated into the void before him. For a moment, Wayra felt as though he might fly clear out of the wood, until the ground stood and crashed up toward him. He fell through branches and limbs, slamming into a rocky slope that sent him rolling into the bottom of a steep gouge in the earth. His body flopped to sudden halt against the trunk of a small tree, and Wayra felt his body lose its shape. Blood trickled into his eyes and his limbs felt as though they had filled with water. The world faded in and out in short, blurry segments. He saw the sky, and the trees, and the outline of a row of horses high above him. He heard wind, and breath dripping in blood, and a man’s voice as bright and sharp and cold as the snow around him.
“Serves him right," he said. "Thinking he can kill the son the greatest general in all of Bylanth and get away with it."
Wayra’s eyes stared back at the men unblinking, watching them disappear onto the other side of the edge, blending in with the snow that had formed from clear sky and was now kissing the trees in delicate little flakes.
Minutes passed and Wayra was unaware if he was alive or dead. His mind passed from his body and was somewhere far away, under a warm sun and a cool breeze.Darkness held him close and his eyes shut slowly. His heart slowed and whispered about how easy it would be to just let go forever. No more running. No more hiding. No more fighting to stay miserable. A life void of joy or rest was nothing to struggle over.
But there was a fire within the man.
Wayra could feel it, like hot coals in his belly, melting the ice in his veins and igniting the resolve. He could see the faces of the men who had betrayed him, and he knew that his life, long and hard though it had been, was not to end like this. He rolled, moaned, cursed and pulled himself to his feet. He placed hands upon his swords, still safely tucked away in their scabbards, and felt his face flush. He turned his boots toward Tiger’s Paw, and put one for before the other.
It was near nightfall when he came shuffling into the village. The lights in the tavern burned hotly, but that wasn’t what drew him on. Wayra passed the noise and the heat of the hall and moved on to a stout house on in the heart of the village. He walked up to the door and pounded three times. He slipped a dagger from his belt and held it at his side.
“Coming, coming,” grumbled the voice within. The door swung open and Cy smile broadly, “Yes?” The host took a second look and the smile disappeared. “Shit.”
HE dove for his sword propped by the door frame, and Wayra brought down the dagger into his forearm. Cy screamed as the blade was wrenched free, spraying blood all over the entrance. Wayra moved into the room and gently closed the door behind him. He set the bar in place, and turned back to Cy.
“What are you doing?!?” Cy cried out, squeezing his arm. His fingers oozed blood and Cy’s expression became fierce. “Have you lost your mind?”
Wayra let his blade answer for him as it streaked through the air and opened Cy’s cheek. The man screamed wildly and turned his face to the floor.
“You’re insane!” Cy accused.
“You sent them,” Wayra declared. “You sent the riders.”
“What?” Cy spat.
“They knew we would be there, and exactly how many there would be,” Wayra shared, flashing the knife again and cutting into Cy’s shoulder. “They knew.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Old grudges die slowly, I suppose,” Wayra answered. He knelt low beside Cy and looked him in the eye. “All the same,” he continued. “I got what I wanted.”
“Find a nice little late with a tight pink ass, did you?” Cy replied.
“Do you even know who you killed?” Wayra asked with a cruel smile. “Do you have any idea?”
“There are so many,” he answered. “How am I to know them all?”
“Folsterm,” Wayra informed him. “Folsterm Jorkinton. The only son of the General Jorkinton, the same that put that price on my head."
Cy forced a smile through the pain. "You tricky bastard. I didn't know you had it in you. Too bad your plans failed."
"Not exactly," Wayra laughed. "It actually worked out pretty well, except on the personal level. Then again,” he said, slowly plunging the dagger into Cy’s side. The man roared in pain and Wayra give a little laugh. “I do have you bleeding at my feet, after all."
"Stop this,” Cy begged. “Just end my shame," he said, spitting blood.
"I won't let you miss the best part," Wayra said. "You don't get to kill the only son of one of the most famous general in Bylanth history and live to tell the tale.”
"And how will they know it was us?" Cy asked.
"They killed the two Smoks you sent with me," Wayra said. "I think they will put those two things together and this village will burned to ashes by tomorrow night. Why settle for a single bird when you can kill two with one shot?”
"Congratulations," Cy wheezed. “Now finish what you’ve started. I'm dying, Wayra.”
"Dying,” he agreed,“but not dead." Wayra stood, turned around, and crossed the room to the door.
"Come back." Cy tried to yell. His voice caught and choked. "Come back here and finish this, or I will find you, Wayra I will track you down and kill you with my very hands.”
"I'll be waiting for you," said Wayra, disappearing into the darkness.
“Wayra!”Cy screamed.
"Till next time, Cy.”
“Wayra!”
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