The Loss
Wolfram scowled and attempted to shake the rain out of his eyes. The hood of his drenched cloak lay flat against his head, water continuously dripping into his face from a lock of his sodden hair. Shivering and chilled to the bone, it took all of his determination to stop his teeth chattering as his his civilian clothes stuck tightly to him.
Torrents of rain were pouring from the skies as if someone had upturned an enormous bucket. With the hard curtain of rain, he could hardly see any of the troops who were trying to keep the surge of the river behind the barriers.
Only with some difficulty could he make out the hazy figure
of Yuuri throwing a sand sack to Dorcas a few meters away. The young
king's brown wig had turned so dark with all the rainwater that he
could have easily done without it.
But even though he was just as
soaked as the rest of them, Yuuri continued to work without any signs
of fatigue. He continued to accept one sandbag after the other, while
shouting out words of encouragement and passing it further down the
line of soldiers, who restlessly tried to reinforce the increasingly
hollow dam. He didn't even seem to notice the icy cold
downpour.
Letting him come here had been a bad idea, in Wolfram's opinion. Conrad, of course, let the young Maou do whatever he wanted. But at least Gwendal and Günter should never have agreed to letting Yuuri venture out here.
It was far too dangerous. And besides, working in the mud and rain was hardly a job for the ruler of all New Makoku. But no. Somehow Yuuri had persuaded first his brother, then the royal advisor and finally even him that every available help was needed.
How he always managed it, Wolfram wasn't quite sure. It was always the same: One minute he was standing before Yuuri, arms crossed, mind set on not allowing Yuuri to do whatever it was this time and the next thing he knew, he was on horseback or on a ship or trudging through the wilderness, trying to figure out just what in the name of Shinou had compelled him to accompany his fiancé on his latest reckless mission. He always came to the same conclusion: It was something in his eyes. The way determination seemed to radiate from them. An intensity that immediately drew him in, captured his gaze and gradually, gently caused his resistance to crumble.
This Yuuri always took him by surprise. There were so many contradicting sides to the boy: The honest, the cheerful joker, the clumsy idiot, the protective father, the excitable youth, the soft-hearted fool, the embarrassed little boy and even the forceful Maou, all were united within the same body ...
Abruptly, Wolfram's face shot up to the sky to watch lightning tear apart the night in a flash of blinding brightness. His horse tossed its head and pawed the ground nervously underneath him as growling thunder followed almost immediately.
That was it. Enough was enough. He was going to drag Yuuri back to the castle, whether the black haired boy agreed or not.
"Yuuri, get onto Ao. We're going back!" he yelled as loud as he could, trying to make himself heard over the storm.
He wasn't sure whether his words had reached his fiancé, but at least he'd got his attention. Decisively Wolfram gestured towards the black horse that stood tethered to a nearby tree.
To his infinite surprise, Yuuri actually left the line and walked up the slippery slope towards him. Whatever he was shouting, the wind seemed to carry most of it away before it reached Wolfram's ears. He could only make out a few words, that nevertheless made Yuuri's intentions clear: "... can't go... dam not ... break ..."
Yuuri was looking up at him
with those intensely dark eyes again. The same resoluteness, only now
the eyes were narrowed in anger. He was adamant about it; he didn't
want to go.
The sheer willpower behind the message rendered
Wolfram speechless.
Again a bolt of lightening forked across the sky.
„Stupid wimp, You're going to get yourself killed"
As if to emphasise his words, a branch from a nearby tree came crashing down and landed mere inches away from a wide-eyed Yuuri.
"We need to get you to shelter, the storm's getting too strong!"
This was certainly true. The storm had become worse and worse over the past few hours, as if the days before had only been one deep inhale, before it pulled out the stops and unleashed its full ferocity on New Makoku. When it had begun the previous night, everybody had hoped it would wear itself out over the next day, but instead the intensity of the wind and rain seemed to know no limits.
The lower meadows where the soldiers' horses
were kept had been flooded by midday, when the ground could no longer
hold the masses of rain. Instead the wide stretches of lush green
grass had turned into seas of muddy water.
The iron grey clouds
had obscured the sky so completely, that candles had to be lit in the
castle, while fierce winds rattled the windows as if they were trying
to bring down the ancient walls.
The messenger had arrived in the early evening hours. Wolfram had been watching the thunderstorm outside king's office with a deep frown, when suddenly the soaking wet man had approached the door in a hurried walk, leaving a trail of mud and water behind him. He had barely taken the time to salute the blond prince, before he'd knocked at the door and entered immediately after being asked in.
Now, workers held their heads bowed low against the gale, trying to save the village near Blood Pledge Castle from the river that was quickly rising beyond its banks.
Though obviously shocked, Yuuri stepped up to the equally upset Wolfram.
"I'm not going. I ..."
That
moment an ear-splitting crack seemed to shake the very earth under
their feet and the next thing Wolfram felt was a great lurch as his
horse bolted into the woods. He thought he heard somebody yell his
name, but it was gone too quickly. The wind howled in his ears and
made him deaf to all other sounds around him.
The raindrops beat
against his face and fell into his eyes as the world rushed past in a
windswept blur. He blinked and clung to the reins, trying to ignore
the the weak sensation in his stomach.
He tried to regain his balance, but barely managed to duck a low-hanging branch.
Keep your calm, he told himself. You've done this before. Calm your horse. Slow it down.
These words repeated themselves in his head again and again as he struggled to follow this old bit of advice. He couldn't see where he was going. The ground was uneven and slippery. His horse could trip and fall any moment . . .
Sit low in the saddle, make yourself as heavy as possible, try to make the horse turn, guide it into a circle.
But the animal would have none of it. Terrified it continued its flight, Wolfram now desperately holding onto the saddle for dear life, hoping it would slow down of its own accord. If he fell off at this pace and on this rocky ground, it was doubtful that anybody would find him in time for even Gisela to fix him up.
He winced as branches tore at the bare skin of his hands and face as they crashed through an incredibly dense clump of bushes. He felt something warm running down his cheek and somehow he was convinced it had to be blood, even if he didn't dare lift his hand to check. Surprisingly there wasn't much pain, but it had to be a deep cut, judging by steady trickle of hot fluid.
Suddenly the blond realised just where the horse's panicked flight was taking them. They were headed straight for the old quarry. Wolfram's stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of the drop of nearly hundred meters they would fall down if he didn't stop the horse soon.
With renewed determination he gripped the reins firmly and pulled. The horse neighed and bucked in protest, as the bit cut sharply into the tender tissue of its muzzle, but Wolfram didn't give up. He knew he was ignoring everything he'd learned about handling horses, but he needed to get the animal's attention.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it seemed to come to its senses. Wolfram lessened the tension on the reins and carefully shifted his weight sidewards. He couldn't remember ever being so relieved as when the horse changed course slightly. It's ears were still laid back, and it hadn't slowed its pace, but at least the strides were becoming more steady, now that it was listening to it's rider.
Wolfram sat back and softly said: "Whoah."
Gradually, it slowed to a canter, a trot, a walk and finally came to a nervous halt. It still sidled about restlessly as its overworked muscles twitched and its eyes darted about, but Wolfram could feel it was not half as terrified as it had been mere moments before. He patted it's neck with a shaky hand. Feeling slightly sick and distinctly weak in the knees, he moved to dismount.
A fleeting thought of how Yuuri would react when he found out he couldn't even control his horse crossed his mind and Wolfram smiled humourlessly.
Suddenly just as he was about to slide his leg over the steed's back, lightning crashed down and split the old oak only feet from where they were standing in two.
Before he could do so much as move, the horse reared onto its hind legs and, with little to hold onto, Wolfram slipped. The horse's shrill neighs were the last thing he heard before his head hit something hard and his entire world was engulfed by darkness.
To be continued
