Sides of War

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Balcony

Seven months later, Jorlin rode in Caelator's saddle, the bay stallion that Tobran had gifted her with. His hooves thudded wearily on the path as he continued to trot northwards, the looming Mauntell Castle up ahead on the next hill. She passed the manor's fields, the warm wind brushing the locks of hair away from her face as her horse passed over grassy patches in the road. It was warm enough that Jorlin didn't need her cloak, and she enjoyed the afternoon air brushing over her skin.

It felt like years had passed since she'd set foot in Auld Town after the siege and subsequently said farewell to Draven. They both knew it would be the last time they'd see each other for a long while.

Jorlin didn't mind the fact that the neckline of her dress revealed the recent scars that were dangerously close to her neck; she wore them as if they were medals. She knew she would have to explain them, but for the time being she pushed the thoughts of it out of her mind. Caelator jumped forward into a canter when they drew nearer to the castle, his coat glistening with sweat. They climbed the hill and soon enough passed through the gates of Mauntell Castle.

The outer bailey didn't look much different than the last time Jorlin was there. The wall was repaired, yet the smiths and workers appeared just as busy as they did during the war. She managed to pull the stallion to a halt in front of the stable, and he tossed his head restlessly. Carefully, she slid off the saddle, landing on her left leg, and gave him over to the care of the stablehands after grabbing her pack.

As she made her way over the lush grass of the baileys, she tried her best to mask the slight limp in her right leg. The keep was much the same as it was before, and as she entered memories from several months ago arose in her head. She climbed the staircase to the second floor, her hand brushing against the stones in the walls as she thought of Draven helping her climb them countless times after her injury, how his shadow raced along the stones as he fetched her crutch for her. When she arrived in his old room, she saw that it was empty, even though there were signs that someone still resided there. Jorlin let out a pent-up sigh, her shoulders sagging.

It took her awhile to get downstairs again, and the heat of the torches on her tanned skin sapped even more strength from her body. As she turned a corner, she spotted a man in a guard uniform at the other end of the hallway, and somehow he looked different than the dozens of other soldiers she'd seen in the castle that day. Her eyes were drawn to his fluffy red hair and freckled face, and what felt like a smile arose in her chest.

"Jamath?" she asked as she limped closer to him.

He tilted his head in confusion as he studied her. "Jorlin? What are you doing here?" He ran forward and trapped her in a tight hug, almost lifting her off her feet.

When he drew away she tried to force a smile as he looked her over.

"You look..."

"Different, I know," she finished for him.

He shrugged with a lopsided smile, gesturing to her shoulder-length hair. "It's longer now. And..." He looked with concern at the scars on her collarbone.

"It's..." She paused, looking for words. "I suppose they weren't ready for me to come home, eh?"

A shadow passed over the red-head's face. "I'm so sorry, Jorlin."

"I'm still alive, though. I'm wanted for treason against my family back home."

"Is that why you're here?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm hoping that the bounty hunters won't follow me here."

"They wouldn't dare. They'd have to get past me first," he said with a reassuring grin.