Escape

Escape

Thadir's hair, still soaked from the brief downpour, flicked into his eyes and, coupled with the low sun's direct rays, rendered him half blind as he rode relentlessly on. Brodil's hooves threw mud into the air as they thundered down the riverbank and splashed into the shallow water. Thadir turned the sweating horse upstream and they galloped along, water flying everywhere and soaking them where the rain had failed to reach.

They followed the river as it entered thick woodland, Thadir flat on Brodil's neck to avoid low branches. After a while Brodil started to tire, slowing and stumbling. Thadir reined in the puffing horse to a walk and turned away from the river into the trees. The evening deepened as the darkening sky was replaced by thick foliage, and pretty soon night was upon them, stealing away any warmth provided by the setting sun.

Thadir reckoned they couldn’t see to track him in here, and their dogs couldn't follow a scent in water, but he and Brodil had made a lot of noise as they splashed up river and through the trees, so the chances were that they could be followed just by listening. "Come on boy, walk quieter." he requested of Brodir, but this had no effect, and his exhausted mount continued to scuff and crunch noisily through the twig- and leaf-strewn floor.

He dismounted, giving Brodil a rest, and led him along an old wood-goblin track. They followed this path for a couple of miles at a slow walk, regaining both strength and peace of mind. The path widened as the trees thinned, and they shortly found themselves back in the open again, rough moorland highlighted in pewter by the waxing moon.

The rain had stopped during their woodland trek, but now the wind had picked up, an icy east wind that came from the mountains causing he and Brodir to be even colder than before. Thadir huddled close to his horse for warmth, hoping to find some shelter before they both froze to death. He considered venturing back into the woods, but the goblins there did not look kindly upon strangers who tarried in their realm; especially ones who made so much noise.



And so it was that man and horse, wet, weary and cold, stumbled across the village of Hess, a small heather farming community that stood alone in the vast moorland region of Grine.

They made their way through the narrow streets between squat houses until they found a tavern, light blazing from the windows. Thadir left Brodil tied up outside and entered, warmth and light temporarily blinding him. As his eyes became accustomed to the brightness he gasped in shock, recognising the group huddled at the bar. How had they got here before him? Their dogs started to bark and the scraggly group of men looked round at the man they had been chasing for the past four days. They reached for their bows as Thadir spun and fled through the doors.

Escape was the only thing on Thadir's mind as he sprinted towards Brodil. He cursed his stupidity for entering a tavern in the only populated town for miles around. Where else would a group of weary people, on the hunt for a renegade thief, tired and hungry from their long chase go, other than a bright, warm and cheery pub? Thadir had evidently lost them so effectively earlier that they had retired for the night, making a bee-line for the village, while he had galloped off on a huge detour only to have ended up in exactly the same place.

"Sorry Brodil, once more for luck eh?" He swung himself onto Brodil's back, blanched as an arrow whistled past his face, and nudged the reluctant horse into a canter. In any other situation he would have tried to escape the men by leading them on a merry chase through the town until they gave up, but neither he nor Brodil had the energy for such games, so they just had to leave the town as fast as they could and hope that the men didn't follow, assuming they'd die in the night on those bleak moors. Dread and despair heavy in his heart, the only thing they could do was try and survive. The alternative was so much worse.