Chapter 12 - Tom the Feather
I didn't think our situation could have gotten worse, but Hadrian had been right. Things could always be worse. After the encounter at Tom the Feather's house, Hadrian and I were done for. Both of us were gravely injured and there was no hope.
So much of what had happened was a blur. One moment we were fighting together, seamlessly. I had anticipated his moves and he complimented mine. We were poetry in motion. Unfortunately, the horse we'd thought to escape on had died while falling on top of me. Then, the fight was over and the rain poured down harder. I couldn't even sit up and Hadrian lay still in the mud with an arrow sticking out of his back. I was broken, both my body and my spirit.
Arcadius had been right about us. Too bad I didn't see it earlier. We'd have made excellent partners. The now familiar combination of frustration and longing for what could never be coursed through me again. Hadrian should have left me to die on the tower. In fact, he'd have been chatting happily in some warm tavern by now, not dying in mud puddle.
From out of nowhere, a horse and cart swam out of the downpour. The church forces had finally caught us. This would be the beginning of the end. We were placed in the wagon, probably to be taken to trial. Hadrian was unconscious, barely breathing. I knew he couldn't hear me, but I whispered "Old lunatic was right about us. We did make a good team." I reached down, felt around, and grasped Hadrian's limp hand in my own. Then I passed out.