Chapter 5

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"Memento mori" - Remember death

"This way!" 

Mikael's boots skidded on the loosely packed dirt as he turned directions and plunged them both into the gloom of the woods bordering the path. Ami felt the gnarled, bony branches scratch and claw at her arms and legs as they zigzagged through the forest at full tilt.

Her heart banged against her ribcage like a wild-eyed inmate on death row. She felt an unfamiliar tingle reverberate through her veins and lodge itself painfully in the pit of her stomach. Although she was oft pursued by men twice her size, she had never felt that the consequences of being caught were this dire. She forced herself to push those thoughts out of her mind in order to concentrate on more important things -- like not running into a tree.

A cacophony erupted from under her sandals as twigs snapped and plants and shrubs were crushed in their haste. She grunted in annoyance and tugged on her cloak, which kept getting caught between branches, slowing her down.

"Keep running. Don't slow down," Mikael yelled over the din. She heard shouting and jostling behind her, which left no doubt as to whether they were being pursued. By the sounds of it, it wasn't just the tubby banker stumbling his way through the forest.

As they ran, she saw Mikael tear off a piece of his tunic and chuck it towards a tree to their right. He then immediately turned to the left, maintaining a firm grip on her hand, and stopped just short of a cluster of trees.

They were giant oaks that had trunks the width of a merchant's cart and towered three stories high, a myriad of sinewy branches jutting out in every direction. The trees were densely packed, their branches intertwined amongst each other in a lover's embrace. Sunlight barely made it through their leafy canopy, shrouding the copse in shadows.

Ami yelped in confusion when Mikael turned abruptly and reached for her without warning.

"Up we go." He grabbed her under the arms and threw her towards a branch that could support her weight. Had she not recovered from her shock quickly enough her head would have ricocheted off the branch like a dull arrow off plate armor.

"What!" She barely managed to grab on to the thick branch, hugging it as though her life depended on it. Mikael followed her up by using the trunk as leverage, jumping off it in an effort to create more air time. It looked like a very suave thing to do, until he missed the branch by a full length of his hand and came crashing down at the base of the ancient oak.

"For f-k's sake!" he muttered under his breath, springing back up to his feet and bracing himself for another attempt. 

Ami had already scampered up the oak. After her initial shock, she had navigated the maze of gnarled branches with ease, showing a surprising amount of nimbleness and skill. Within seconds she was perched on a branch that was a good 25 feet above the ground, affording her a passable view of the surrounding forest and their pursuers.

She heard another 'thud' as Mikael tumbled to the floor once more. Despite the grave situation, she couldn't stop the beginnings of an amused smirk from making its way onto her lips.

Mikael was swearing away like a drunk foot-soldier. He abandoned the idea of climbing the tree and was looking around frantically for cover. For all his self-aggrandizing and ego, his spectacular failure at climbing a tree was mildly pleasing. Ami wouldn't let him live this down easily, even if they died a brutal and torturous death at the hands of their pursuers. That much was sure.

Distant voices startled her out of her thoughts and she craned her neck in the direction of the noise. She could make out a partial outline of a few men and flashes of blue cloth pierce the thickness of the woods. They stopped near the point where Mikael and Ami had veered off to the left and were discussing something. She squinted her eyes and strained herself to hear their conversation.

"'--Could be a fake," she heard. It sounded like they were examining the torn piece of cloth. "'In fact, I'm sure it is. This way." It was said by a person who was clearly in command of the group. The voice carried some authority and the others did not seem to dissent. The voice had a no-nonsense air to it. They were definitely trained professionals. Mikael's diversion did not fool them as he had hoped.

The men hacked their way through the plants and shrubbery, and from her lookout Ami realized that two of them were heading directly towards their hideout. She hissed down at Mikael to grab his attention and motioned for him to hide. He responded with a look of considerable agitation. If his eyes could speak, they were saying something to the effect of, 'No shit, Captain Obvious.'

"I dun' 'hink they be 'at shifty, boss. They be runnin' like a blue-arsed fly 'hat stole me queen's breeches! It ain' like they'll stop to put the spinny on us." His voice was raspy and heavily accented.

"I don't pay you to think," said another voice. It was the voice of the man in command. "There's something fishy about that lanky rotter. I don't doubt for a second that he'd try summin' shifty again. Keep your chin up."

"But those 'umpty's ain't look like they be in a 'urry to slow down."

The 'leader' snarled, "That's what 'e wants us to think. The rip on that cloth is unnatural, sheared evenly off. If it caught on something, it would stretch and tear unevenly. Looks to be like 'e ripped it off 'imself."

Ami cringed to herself. How in the hell did we get stuck with a sword that isn't a complete plank?  she thought angrily. 

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Author's Note:

Thank you for sticking with the story so far! I hope you're enjoying it.

Well, I felt I'd stray a bit from the same ol' dumb mercenaries that are basically walking pieces of meat. I mean, I figure they'd have to be bounty hunting and contract killing in peace-time to keep themselves occupied (and fed), so they must run into quite a few people that would try to put the spin on them. 

Please feel free to comment/criticise, and please hit that star at the bottom if you enjoyed the chapter.

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