A choked sob escaped me, but I could only continue forward. Going back would be a death sentence now. The mayor would likely rather kill me than allow me to escape.
My fingers dug into the mud, trying to gain purchase, but it kept slipping out from under me, causing the little ground I would gain to be lost. The dogs weren’t the only sounds I could hear anymore. The shouts of the men chasing me had joined the cacophony, echoing over the pouring rain as they headed straight for me.
“Please,” I sobbed to the skies above me. “Please, help me!”
Just as the dogs broke through the treeline behind me and my heart lodged itself into my throat, a hand grabbed my arm,hauling me over the embankment and onto the ground above. I screamed, terrified it was one of the men chasing me who was smart enough to go around and cut me off, but when he spoke, his accent was rough, unfamiliar, and… barbaric.
“You are safe.”
My head whipped up to look at him, and a relieved sob escaped me. “Thank the gods.”
His attention wasn’t on me but on my pursuers. He pushed me behind him, jabbing a finger in the direction I’d been heading, and said something in a language I wasn’t familiar with. I knew I should run but leaving his side felt too dangerous, and I found myself glued to him, pressed up against his back as he glared down the embankment where members of a town I’d known for years shouted up at him.
“You cannot take him!”
“He belongs to Bromwich!”
“Give him to us, or we’ll release the hounds!”
I didn’t look at who had chased me. I didn't want to know. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to get away from them.
In stilted common tongue, the barbarian growled back, “He asks for help. He not go back.”
“He is a traitor! He must be tried! He cannot leave!” someone barked back.
The barbarian drew his sword, his other hand reaching behind him to hold me close to his back. “You want him? You face me.”
“And me,” another barbarian spoke, appearing almost as if out of thin air out of the darkness. He stepped up beside the barbarian protecting me, sword already drawn and a mean scowl on his face, his focus solely on his opponents.
One barbarian was enough of a threat, even with the numbers in their favor. There was a reason a treaty was created instead of going to war against them. They were formidable.Two, plus the rain, mud, and embankment between them and me, seemed enough of a deterrent to change my former neighbors’ stance on forcing me back.
“Arlen, you piece of shit,” one of them barked. “If we ever cross paths again, I’ll gut you myself. You’ll live your life as a barbarian’s plaything for your choices. No town will accept you or your frilly wares once they hear what kind of traitor you are.”
I didn’t reply. There was nothing left to be said. I stayed hidden behind the barbarian’s back until the hunters left and the light from their torches disappeared into the trees again. Stepping back, I opened my mouth to thank my rescuers, but my body, already aching and injured, seemed to choose that moment to give out. My knees gave way, and I toppled forward, nearly knocking my barbarian rescuer off the embankment head first.
CHAPTER THREE
TYOS
Dras’s quick reflexes prevented me from falling when the man crashed into me. For a moment, I thought perhaps he was trying to push me, but he collapsed to his hands and knees, and only mine and Dras’s intervention kept him from planting his face in the mud. His breath came out in short pants, a pained look in his eyes as we helped him up again, and he curled in on himself like it was hard for him to stand straight. He was injured, not attacking me, and he looked barely able to hold himself up on his own two feet.
Without thinking about it, I swept him into my arms, taking the weight off his feet and allowing him to rest. He yelped in surprise, fingers digging into my shoulders, but the tremble of his body in my arms made me think it was the right move. He was exhausted.
My common tongue was limited, I only ever used it while accompanying my brother in picking up tributes from towns during the treaty, but I attempted to communicate with him, to reassure him of his safety.
“You are no danger.”
He frowned at me, and I frowned back, confused. That sounded incorrect. I understood more than I could produce.
Dras snorted beside me. “He meant, you are not in danger. His common tongue needs work.”
The man, who was small and thin in my arms and covered from head to foot in mud, nodded slowly. “Th-thank you for rescuing me. They w-wouldn’t let anyone leave. I had to escape on my own.”
Dras and I shared a look. It was as I assumed before, but after the confrontation with the dogs, it wasn’t safe to return tonight. It would be better to bring the man away from this place and come back with more swords. I would not be satisfied leaving people who wished to escape. They deserved the right to choose their own fates.
“We go now,” I told him, keeping my voice soft so as not to startle him. “You ride me.”
His eyes flew wide, his mouth falling open in shock. I had no chance to ask if perhaps he feared stallions before Dras smacked the back of my head. “I told you not to ignore your lessons. Your common tongue is horrible,” he growled in our tongue before switching back to the common tongue again. “He means you will ride with him on his stallion.”