Firebrand

Chapter 623: Familiar Lands

Familiar Lands

In desperate flight, the pair of deserters galloped away. In the distance, the walls of Esmouth manned by archers faded from sight, but one of their arrows had struck Martel's steed; they did not get far before it began to fall behind Eleanor's. Glancing backwards, she halted her own mount and waited for Martel to catch up. "What is wrong?" she asked with an anxious look at the road behind them before her eyes fell on the arrow sticking out of his horse.

"They will catch up to us soon enough." Martel stared at the Imperial road as it wound through the landscape ahead of them, allowing riders a swift journey. The legate would send every man on a mount after them.

"We have to leave the road. Go where the horses cannot follow." Turning on her saddle, Eleanor looked towards north. "Into the marshes."

They emptied the saddlebags of provisions and a Tyrian shortbow and arrows. Eleanor grabbed the weapons, they divided the supplies between themselves, and she gave each horse a slap to send them running off. On foot, they turned north and entered the wetlands.

***

The surroundings were familiar. Martel had moved through this landscape plenty of times. They had come here to harvest herbs, to find and destroy Khivan crossings, to pursue the fleeing Khivans and in turn also march through here during their own flight. At this point, they knew how to navigate the terrain, and despite the meltwater of spring flooding more parts than usual, it barely slowed them down.

But while the marshes were known to him, the situation was new. Previously, Esmouth had always promised safe harbour. No matter the danger, Martel knew that once they reached its walls, he could rest and feel secure.

Now, no place for hundreds of miles would offer refuge. All land west of the river was the Empire; to the east lay Khiva. Either place, they would be killed on sight. And they were right on the border, where both realms had most of the forces concentrated, ready to hunt down a pair of renegade mages. It was hard to imagine how the situation could be any worse. He looked at Eleanor walking a few steps ahead on the narrow trail, keenly aware that she had thrown away everything in her life to save him.

They continued to walk until nightfall, where darkness made it impossible to find the safe path. They located firm land big enough for both of them and made camp, which simply consisted of them sitting down, as they could not risk a fire, and they had no tent to raise. Instead, Martel found a small rock, which he cast a short enchantment of heat upon that should last until sunrise.

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"We need to determine our route," Eleanor declared as he finished his trance, and the rock began spreading warmth. "They will soon scour these marshes for us. We should be gone before that happens."

"You're right."

"It will take us a couple of days, but there are a number of small towns dotted along the coast. I brought all my money with me." She touched the purse hanging by her belt. "We find a fisherman and pay him to sail us to Sindhu."

"That requires us to cross the Imperial road, which must be swarming with troops. And they will send couriers to every town to keep an eye out for us," Martel argued. "If an Imperial warship comes for us, we will be defenceless at sea. We can't fight back nor run."

"We find somewhere small that will be overlooked, a fishing village without a garrison."

"Yet big enough to have vessels of a size that can brave the journey all across the Emerald Sea?" Martel questioned.

"Fine. What is your idea?"

"We continue along this route, keeping northwest," he suggested.

She held up one finger. "That will also take us into open land, and for a much longer distance than if we go south and hit the coast." She raised a second finger. "I understand your instinct to go towards Nordmark, but Martel, you cannot go home. They will expect that."

"Of course, I know that. We shouldn't come within a hundred miles of Engby. But we should aim for Nordmark. It is a vast province, yet sparsely populated. We stand a much better chance of avoiding discovery marching through there."

"It is still a province in the Empire, under military administration. It has five legions!"

"Which is why we do not remain there, but continue north until we cross the Frosten River."

She stared at him in the dark. "You want to go to Tyria."

"They will expect us to go south."

"Tyria is a thousand miles away! There are five legions guarding the border!"

"Yes, but the land in between is desolate. The legionaries at the river won't be thinking about a pair of runaway mages a thousand miles to the south."

She crossed her arms. "Just because you have made friends with one berserker, it does not mean all his tribesmen will welcome us with open arms."

"We do not have to stay interior. I'm sure we can find passage on one of their ships going to the Western Isles." He let out a deep breath. "Alright, you're the most sensible person I know. If you think we stand a better chance of escape by going south, crossing the Imperial road, I'll go with you without further argument."

She held his gaze for a long, silent moment. "Fine. I will concede there is wisdom in going through less populated areas. We will go north."

"As you say."

"Do not give me any cheek. You can take first watch as punishment," she declared, and she laid down with her cloak huddled around her.

"Agreed. Also, Eleanor? Thank you." He did not know how to express how much he owed her; a debt of gratitude that he could never repay. She had done it once before, giving up her career to become his protector. Now she had given up her home, her reputation, and all ties to her family and friends. "For everything," he said awkwardly.

"You are welcome."