Kalen sat in his bedchambers, deep in thought. The flames in the hearth danced and roared like some great tiger, flaming jaws ready to snap shut and burn. The Bazhir ran a hand through his black hair in exasperation, why couldn't he think straight?
An image appeared in the bed of flame. An image of tranquility and sudden peace, he sighed as Midori turned to her side, wrapped in the arms of soft blankets. "Midori" he whispered, thinking the image also had the ability to transport sound. But she did not stir.
Sighing heavily, Kalen decided to take Velvet for a ride, to try and ease his troubled nerves.
Grabbing a pair of boots and a coat, the man then snuck outside to the stables to his sleek black mare. "We're going for a nice ride, you and I, I'm feeling a bit troubled so I'll need to think, your sire and dam have served the Bloody Hawk well. Can you show them?" he whispered, patting Velvet's muzzle. The horse snorted and blew in her master's face. "Good girl." Kalen led Velvet out of the stables and mounted.
Urging his horse into a trot for a warm-up, Kalen headed toward the Royal Forest, the deep abyss of night upon them and the warm breeze caressing like silk brushing upon a cheek. Nothing seemed to disturb this few minutes of quiet thinking.
Except perhaps the lack of activity.
Kalen watched as the worn, dirt path he took, the pebbles snapping softly as Velvet walked. The waning moon gave modest light and just about cut through the dense leaves of the forest.
A snap made him look up, hand reaching for a dagger at his side. Dark eyes studied the even darker silhouette of trees ahead.
Kalen tried to calm his prancing horse and felt the bittersweet taste of tension snap like the fire in his hearth. Velvet's eyes showed only the white and her flanks were sparkling with fear-sweat.
An arrow hissed and landed with a crack in the dirt, close to the horse and rider. Velvet reared, almost throwing his rider off and bucked. "Easy!" Kalen yelled, trying to keep his voice composed, though his heart was racing and pounding painfully in his chest.
A shrill battle cry broke through the frantic neighing of Velvet and six men, clad in heavy rings of chain mail, thick breastplates and each held a broadsword, all except two who carried bows.
Kalen was frozen on the saddle, his mind screamed for him to bolt. But he held his ground, if only for that one minute.
A bury man, the leader chuckled and grinned, "Well, well, well boy, how unfortunate that you had to cross us on this lovely evening," the leader glanced around, "And so alone, face it boy, you're outnumbered …"
Kalen held his grip on the reins and retorted, "No more alone then I seem"
The archers drew back their strings and made to fire, merely to intimidate this squire. But Kalen was not to be fooled. They would fire.
With a cry, Kalen let Velvet bolt and he hung on for dear life as the mare threw back her head, eyes rolling and mouth foaming, and charged into the forest. Tearing through foliage, not caring what path they took if only it would lose the six men that were on their trail.
He felt arrows whoosh past his head and ducked down closer to Velvet's sweat soaked neck, murmuring Bazhir prayers of good luck, safety and prayers to the Tortallan gods.
He felt his mare go down, one arrow above her knees and three in her side. The mare squealed and fell with a thud in the forest floor, a puddle of crimson already forming. Kalen quickly stood and ran for his life, feeling pain in his side and shoulder before he tripped and cried out, gasping.
"Leave him, Lernad," a man ordered. "He's a goner anyways, nothing will save him now, only some gods-cursed miracle…"
"Only a miracle." Kalen let his mind succumb to darkness, feeling the heavy weight of regret in his heart. He had failed her.
His blood would be his payment to the gods.