They’ve been following the King’s Highway for three days. Thirty miles a day taken on fifteen mile marches, cutting through the serene countryside. Sparse meals, long night’s watches cut between two, and aching muscles. Hardly a word between them, but soft touches that speak louder than their hurried whispers.
The last time they passed this road, they had been in high spirits. Lavian had been chosen for her fearless determination; Alicia for her loyalty to the Crown. Neither could call Heaven’s wrath upon their enemies. In that, God had overlooked them.
Now Ovelia is dead, and Agrias gone.
And there are benefits to being overlooked.
The first Inquisitor they met wished them a pleasant afternoon beside the village well. If he noticed how they lingered before crossing his path, he gave no sign. Most give them nary a second glance, for to the eye they are but itinerant warriors.
On the third eve traveling the King’s Highway, they pass yet another. His hood is drawn, and his eyes glint, almost glow in the light of the setting sun. As they draw closer, his breath hisses between his teeth.
When Lavian stops, entranced by his gaze, he lunges, knocking her off her feet, while his sword catches on the chainmail under her sleeve. Alicia is on him in an instant, even as Lavian’s sword is half drawn. The Inquisitor’s dying scream is a beastly sound that echoes into the night.
Cradling her broken arm, Lavian grips Alicia close, and Alicia presses a reassuring kiss to Lavian’s forehead. Together – together always – they stumble off the stone-marked edge of the Highway to seek refuge in the wilderness.
March; FFT; Alicia/Lavian; PG-13
They’ve been following the King’s Highway for three days. Thirty miles a day taken on fifteen mile marches, cutting through the serene countryside. Sparse meals, long night’s watches cut between two, and aching muscles. Hardly a word between them, but soft touches that speak louder than their hurried whispers.
The last time they passed this road, they had been in high spirits. Lavian had been chosen for her fearless determination; Alicia for her loyalty to the Crown. Neither could call Heaven’s wrath upon their enemies. In that, God had overlooked them.
Now Ovelia is dead, and Agrias gone.
And there are benefits to being overlooked.
The first Inquisitor they met wished them a pleasant afternoon beside the village well. If he noticed how they lingered before crossing his path, he gave no sign. Most give them nary a second glance, for to the eye they are but itinerant warriors.
On the third eve traveling the King’s Highway, they pass yet another. His hood is drawn, and his eyes glint, almost glow in the light of the setting sun. As they draw closer, his breath hisses between his teeth.
When Lavian stops, entranced by his gaze, he lunges, knocking her off her feet, while his sword catches on the chainmail under her sleeve. Alicia is on him in an instant, even as Lavian’s sword is half drawn. The Inquisitor’s dying scream is a beastly sound that echoes into the night.
Cradling her broken arm, Lavian grips Alicia close, and Alicia presses a reassuring kiss to Lavian’s forehead. Together – together always – they stumble off the stone-marked edge of the Highway to seek refuge in the wilderness.
Life on the road can be boring, but it is life.
They will not stop tonight.