Chapter 6: Hide And Seek

Travel to the monastery, go with caution and be sure to reach safe shelter by nightfall.

That's what her uncle had told her before they left the village. However, Elizabeth knew that there was no conceivable way in which they were going to reach the monastery by nightfall. The journey was arduous. They had started by climbing the valleyside, Darcy at the front holding the reins to his horse, and Lydia and Elizabeth following behind.

It was slow, and difficult. Elizabeth wondered why Darcy had been so reluctant to stay on the main mountain road, insisting on the steep cut up the valleyside. Though he was fast, silent and uncomplaining, even Darcy must have found it trying.

But of course, it wasn't just that. Lydia complained bitterly, all the way without ceasing. She complained about not wishing to move to the monastery, about not wanting to leave her sisters or the village, about the journey, about the steepness, about the climbing…in short, Lydia complained about everything.

Elizabeth wondered that Darcy did not snap and tell them both off. Just as she wondered this, Darcy suddenly stopped, and turned to look at Lydia.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Well, everything," Lydia said pouting, "Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

"To every blessed word," Darcy said, rolling his eyes. "I heard, just now, a change in your voice. A grimace. What is the matter? It is better to tell us now than whenever it gets worse."

"Lydia?" Elizabeth prodded questioningly.

"It hurts. These wounds hurt, especially with fabric rubbing up and down the whole time."

"Roll up your sleeve," Darcy said. "Make sure not to rub your arm against anything, and if we come across other people, be sure to cover your arm."

Lydia nodded.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth. "Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth, you have some herbs on you, or can locate some hereabout to ease your sister's pain?"

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. She understood that the wound on Lydia's chest could not be dealt with as easily as the one on her arm, yet she had hesitations in suggesting a remedy. "I do have something that Lydia can chew on. However, the more you have it, the less effective it becomes. I am afraid that there is still a-ways before the monastery, and…"

Darcy looked at the path ahead of them in contemplation, and then turned to Lydia. "May I see your arm?"

"Sir, how is it that you are so familiar with ogre bites?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy did not respond, and Elizabeth wondered to herself. Something was not sitting right. She tried again. "Sir, how is that an ogre, whose upper arm was almost as big as your torso, managed to leave such small, and precise bites?"

"Ma'am, next time I fight an ogre, I shall be sure to ask," Darcy deadpanned. "We have much climbing to do; I suggest you give your sister a small part to chew on, otherwise the monastery will remain but a dream."

Elizabeth openly glared at him. He was so cold and rude to her that it beggared belief. What had she ever done to warrant this treatment? She gave Lydia a tiny wad of herbs to chew on, and they recommenced their trek.

She thought about Darcy. She had not forgotten their first meeting, the feeling of a memory about bubbling just below the surface. His voice was familiar. The way his hair fell, the way he wore his sword…

Elizabeth stepped quickly to be beside Darcy. He seemed surprised, but slowed down his pace.

"Sir? Master Darcy?"

"On a journey such as this, you need not stand on formality. You can call me Darcy."

Elizabeth tried to read his expression, but his face was inscrutable. "Mas…yes, of course. Thank you. Darcy…I had been meaning to…hoping to speak to you of something."

"Yes?"

"My uncle and Mr. Lucas spoke of the fog and how we all seem to lack any real remembrance of events. Your comrade spoke of the two of you seeing the same thing on your journey. Sir…Darcy…what…what do you suppose is the reason for our memory loss?"

"It is hard to tell, Miss Elizabeth."

"Please. I think you know much more than you would like me to believe. Surely a warrior such as yourself would at least have suspicions?" Elizabeth heard Lydia humming to herself behind them.

Darcy looked at her, his expression softening. "I believe that your…lack of memory is related to the confounded mist this entire area suffers from. I also believe that the answer to your question may be found at the monastery. The monk Jonus would be the best person to question. With any luck, you will receive a satisfactory answer sooner than later."

Elizabeth nodded. "You are very adept in this difficult terrain. Have you, perhaps, travelled here before?"

"I am a warrior, a servant to my King. I would do His Highness a disservice if I were not able to navigate foreign lands."

"Sir, you are also very adept at not answering questions I ask of you."

Darcy sighed, and looked at her. "Miss Elizabeth, is it your habit to keep speaking while making a steep climb such as this?"

"It would be rather odd for the three of us to travel in complete silence, don't you think?"

Darcy refused to share what he thought, so Elizabeth stubbornly pressed again. "Darcy, have you perhaps travelled here before?"

"I have not travelled this far east."

"Then how is it that we know each other?"

Darcy almost stumbled. He stared at her, surprise evident. "I beg your pardon?"

"It is obvious that we have met previously, and my memory being what it is, perhaps you could just tell me?"

Darcy stiffened. "Madam, as I said then, I mistook you for someone else. Endless travelling leads to mixing up people and places more often than you would suppose."

With that, Darcy increased his pace, and Elizabeth found that she was not able to keep up.

"What's that?" Lydia asked.

They were still on the valleyside, standing on a small, narrow plateau from which you could see for miles. Lydia had been panting and gasping, and even Elizabeth, far more active and used to tumbling about outdoors had been struggling. Without having to be told, Darcy had suggested that they stop to rest. He had a restless expression. Elizabeth understood that none of this was going as the warriors had planned. Lydia was simply not able to keep pace, and they were well behind in their journey.

"What is that?" Lydia repeated.

"I don't know, Lydia. I have never seen or heard of that." Elizabeth said, as she stood amidst the stubbled heather to look. Inexplicably, she felt her heartbeat quicken as she felt Darcy come to stand beside her. He was so close that she could feel his arm rub against her own. In that instance, in her body's reaction to him, Elizabeth knew the warrior to be lying. They had met before, she was certain of it. She felt things, reacted in ways…deep in her heart, Elizabeth knew that they had a shared past.

"… the cove," he was saying. "You cannot see the island, because of the mist up here, and the trees down there. But there's an island just beyond that cove, about one third of a day's boat ride away."

Elizabeth didn't move, but she turned her head to him. "What kind of island is it?"

Darcy stared ahead, expression wistful and faraway. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "It is a special island. A place of strange qualities, and one who arrives there will walk among its greenery and trees in solitude, never seeing another soul. Occasionally on a moonlit night or when a storm's ready to break, he may sense the presence of his fellow inhabitants. But most days, for each traveller, it's as though he's the island's only resident. There are a few boatmen on the cove who will ferry one there, but they will ferry only one. And there is no return."

"Ugh, how boring," Lydia commented. "What will be the use of going on your own to never come back?"

"You need a lot of strength of character to manage that much solitude," Elizabeth added, but she was transfixed by Darcy's expression. It was as if he was living through a different time.

"You don't need strength of character, if you have love," Darcy said softly. "Occasionally a couple may be permitted to cross to the island together, but this is very rare. It requires an unusually strong bond of love between them. It does sometimes occur, and when a boatman finds a man and wife, or even unmarried lovers, waiting to be carried over, they question the couple carefully. It falls on the boatman to perceive if their bond is strong enough to cross together. There are couples who are wise and careful, and plan this journey for a long time, talk of it and dream of it over years."

"Oooh," Lydia exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "That's sounds to be such an exciting adventure!"

"It sounds," Elizabeth said more quietly, "to be tremendously romantic."

Darcy scoffed then, a harsh and bitter sound. "Romantic, is it? I find little feeling of romance at the thought of being left on this side of the shore while my love is over on the other side, on the island forever." Darcy turned to glare at Elizabeth, his face so close that she could feel his breath on her face. "What bonds of love can there exist in this country of mist, where people have forgotten everything? What memory is left here of who was loved or why? You may have strength of character, Miss Elizabeth, but I doubt that, in the recesses of your memory, you could find a bond of love strong enough to convince a boatman."

The next part of the journey had been made in uncomfortable silence. Lydia, sensing tension but unable to understand why, and weary with exhaustion, had fallen silent. Elizabeth was convinced that Darcy had been trying to tell her something, and became frustrated for not being able to unlock her memories and angry with Darcy for causing this strife within herself. Darcy, for his part, stayed ahead of them, saying nothing, looking solemn, and only turning back to ensure that they were safe.

In this way they travelled, until they had found their way obstructed by a fast-flowing river. By now it was well past noon. They had made a partial descent through shrouded woodlands in search of the main mountain road, along which, Darcy reasoned, there would surely be a bridge across the water. Angry as she was with him, Elizabeth did not bother commenting or offering her opinion on the matter.

They had indeed spotted a bridge to the distance, just past a waterfall, but instead of making their way there directly, Darcy had insisted on resting amongst some trees located on higher ground, an act Elizabeth found more to be in line with hiding than resting.

Soon, Darcy's actions became obvious, as a rider rode on the main road to the bridge. Clearly, Darcy wanted to avoid riders such as the one they had just seen. In addition to this, there were men at the bridge, maybe soldiers.

Darcy had suggested that they wait until the men had gone, for at first the soldiers had not appeared to be stationed there, but merely refreshing themselves and their horses at the waterfall. But time had passed and the soldiers had shown no signs of moving on. They would take turns getting onto their bellies, reaching down from the bridge and splashing themselves; or sit with their backs against the timber rails, playing dice.

Elizabeth, Darcy, and even Lydia observed well enough all that had passed from behind their cover of greenery, and once the rider had left, exchanged questioning looks.

"They may remain a long time yet," Darcy said. "And you're both anxious to reach the monastery."

"Not particularly," Lydia muttered, and Elizabeth wanted to pinch her.

"It's desirable we do so by nightfall, sir," said Elizabeth. "Talk of that dragon worries me, and surely only fools would be abroad here in the dark. What manner of soldiers do you suppose them to be?"

"Not easy at this distance, and I've little knowledge of local dress. But I'd suppose them Britons, and ones loyal to Lord Brennus. They have the dark uniforms, which I have heard is Lord Brennus's preference."

"We've nothing to hide from them," Elizabeth said. "If we explain ourselves, they'll let us go by in peace."

Darcy gazed down at the bridge silently. The soldiers had seated themselves again and seemed to be resuming their game. "Even so," Darcy said, "if we're to cross the bridge under their gazes, let me propose this much. Miss Elizabeth, you will lead the way and talk wisely to the men. Miss Lydia, you hold the reins and bring my horse behind your sister. Also, pull down your sleeve. I'll walk beside you, my jaw slack like a fool's, my eyes wandering loosely. Miss Elizabeth, you must tell the soldiers I'm a mute and a half-wit, and Lydia is my sister, and we two lent to you in place of debts owed your family. Do not mention your father's position at the monastery. I'll hide this sword and belt deep in the horse's pack. Should they find it, you must claim it as something you traded for, which you carry for your own protection."

"Sounds like an adventure," Lydia said. "I'm ready".

"Is such a play really necessary, Darcy?" Elizabeth asked. "These soldiers may often show coarse manners, but we've met many in our village before without incident."

"No doubt, Miss. But men with arms, far from their commanders, aren't easy to trust. And here I am, a stranger who they may think good sport to mock and challenge."

Elizabeth agreed with some trepidation. She felt that Darcy knew that he was in some danger, which he was not sharing with them. They emerged from the woods still some way from the bridge, but the soldiers saw them immediately and rose to their feet. Elizabeth looked behind casually at Darcy and Lydia.

"Sir," Elizabeth said quietly, "I fear this will not go well. There remains something about you that proclaims you a warrior, no matter what foolish look you wear."

"Princess, I'm no skilled player. If you can help improve this disguise, I'd hear it gladly."

Elizabeth's breath hitched, but she focussed on the matter at hand. "It's your stride," she said. "You have a warrior's way of walking. Take instead small steps followed by a large one, the way you might stumble any moment."

"That's good advice, thank you." Darcy muttered so softly that Elizabeth could barely hear him. "Walk us past these fellows wisely, and remember, that you need not fear. I am here underneath this disguise, and will protect you always".