Friday, October 25, 2013

Friends and Enemies // Chapter Twelve // A Failed Escape

   Willow bit her lip as she was shoved roughly towards the horses, her hands bound together in front of her. Should I make a break for it? she wondered. Author, what should I do? she prayed, but knew that the Author didn't speak in audible voices in your head. He spoke through the Writ, his very word. He didn't speak through the "silence" either. Trying to listen to him by sitting quietly trying to hear some voice in your head wasted your time and opened you up to the influences of the Shadow.
   Please help me, she pleaded.
   "Onto the horse, girl," an inexperienced-looking young guard ordered her, joining his hands together like a step. Obviously she couldn't just run for it now, so she agreeably stepped into his hands and awkwardly clambered onto the horse. Trying to do that with your hands tied together in front of you was rather trying. Gritting her teeth, the guard produced a handy piece of rope and tied her hands to the saddle horn. Then taking the halter, he followed the others.
   Willow turned in the saddle to glance over her shoulder, searching for Teclemith. He was on the horse directly behind her. He met her gaze and had a fierce gleam in his eye. Lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug, Willow blinked at him. He nodded slightly at the guard leading his horse as he stopped for a moment to retrieve something he'd dropped. She nodded slowly back at Teclemith. The plan was in place.
   Trying to act natural {an act that she was infamous for not being able to carry out} Willow glanced casually around her, as if enjoying the scenery {which sounds absolutely ridiculous when you think about it}. Then came the moment of truth.
   Teclemith's guard dropped something again {what a klutz, was her personal opinion} and bent down to retrieve it, loosening his hold on the halter. Teclemith waited for only a millisecond before kicking him hard in the back. The guard let go of the halter and landed face-down on the muddy moss of the path. Wrenching his hands free, Teclemith grabbed the reins and urged his horse forward, close enough to Willow's guard to throw him off-balance. A quick push with her left foot allowed her and her horse to break free and gallop after him.
   "This way!" Teclemith directed, pointing down a narrow footpath barely visible between two trees. Willow nodded bravely, and tried to shake off her insecurity with horse riding.
   Riding in first, Teclemith made good time. He was a natural on horses, guiding the horse through with excellent precision. Willow followed more slowly, trying to direct her horse as best  she could, hoping against hope that the horse wouldn't stumble. The hanging branches scraped her face and raked at her hair, pulling it free in long tangled wisps, some of which fell into her face, hindering her vision even more.
   "Teclemith, are you sure-" she began, but was cut off by the dreaded sound of an arrow whistling inches from her ear.  Her usual calm composure was rattled, and she shrieked in surprise.
   "Down there!" she heard a cry. Oh, no!
   "Teclemith, hurry!" she called out in warning, digging her heels into the horse's flanks. Teclemith had also heard, and was galloping forward through the now falling fog. The mist felt cool and damp on her face and hands as she thundered through the narrow passage between the trees.
Teclemith by now had reached what looked like some sort of bog. He dismounted as fast as he could and caught the reins of Willow's horse as she galloped up.
   "Hurry!" were his only words. She nodded and slid off {rather clumsily} as quickly as she could.
   He led the way as they raced against time through the bog. Their feet sunk into the muck, which made it even more difficult to run. Teclemith was {of course} faster, taller, and generally more athletic than Willow {who generally hated any type of exercise and avoided it like the plague} so he was making better time. The shouts of their pursuers grew louder, but it looked like they were home-free. Until...
   Willow turned slightly to look back over her shoulder, to see how far behind the bad guys were, when her foot struck a large stone. Crying out in pain, she stumbled and fell, clutching at her ankle and trying hard not to burst into tears as pain shot through her foot and lower leg. Teclemith was at her side in a second, trying to help her up. Biting her lip against the pain, Willow tried her hardest to run, to walk, to crawl, anything to get away from the Shadow closing in. But her ankle seared with pain, and try as she might, she couldn't even hobble.
   "Go, Teclemith! I'll be fine, leave me," she croaked, her throat clogged with held-back tears.
   He refused. "A gentleman never leaves a damsel in distress," he assured her as their pursuers scrambled up.
   Teclemith was now forced to walk between several guards. They weren't taking anymore chances. Tajoreth {much to her embarrassment} carried Willow back to the Fortress. So much for an escape, she lamented.


   So sorry for the delay, but I hadn't written this until yesterday and this morning, so it wasn't ready yet. And the edit for the cover should be done within the week {hopefully}.


   By the way, we have a new authoress here on The Call! Welcome Ammelia Gabriella!

   Postscript: I will hopefully have a characters post done soon!

1 comment:

  1. Hey Ammelia! And good job, Willow! Can't wait till the next chapter!


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