Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Thirty: The Serpent

Hal had very little experience of horse-riding. Brought up in the city, there had been no need to learn the skills involved in controlling the steed on which she now found herself. While fairly placid, the beast appeared to have its own ideas as to the direction they should be taking or the places in which they should stop. She cursed at times, and was often compelled to dismount and tug at the reins when her new companion revealed an excessive degree of stubbornness.

She continued along the track that Marc had indicated, which wound its way through copses and fields. Turning her head to the west, she observed the hazy outline of mountains far on the horizon. Purplish in shade, the line rose in height to the North, reaching the summit of a distant peak and then gradually dropping away again. The Eagles' Nests, she was aware, perched upon a long outcrop which span out eastwards from these same mountains, a natural border severing the North from the South.

She saw few people as she passed across open countryside. From time to time the road cut through land which had been cleared for farming, where a few villagers worked the fields, bringing in the last dregs of the harvest. They observed her with silent curiosity as she passed, and then returned to their work. Pangs of anxiety assailed her as the relative security of Colvé grew further from reach, and this more homely scenery of hamlets and farmland gradually morphed into the untamed wilderness of the moors. The pain of her wounds was becoming unbearable. The bandages about her legs were all but useless and blood had begun to soak through her jacket from the cut on her arm. She tried to ignore the queasiness in her stomach and the trance-like state into which her mind often wandered. If she fainted on the road, she would probably not get up again.

The light was fading and she knew that, with the cloudy autumnal sky above her, the darkness of the night would be absolute. It would be so much easier to stop at the next village and seek lodgings there. But such a decision would attract far greater attention than a night spent in the town of Caraden. So she continued, deliberately suppressing the memory of the fight and above all of Orla's death. There would be time enough, she thought, to grieve for the girl, if she could only make it to safety now.

The howl of an animal reached her from distant forests ─ possibly a wolf. Sounds of scuttling and rustling broke through the wet foliage and bracken which lined the track. She dug her heels into the horse's flanks and as if sensing her concerns the animal sped up.

Eventually, to her relief, a tiny light appeared, hovering far away in the distance. Another sprang into view, and then more could be discerned. Hal urged the mare on, denying herself the luxury of relief. It could, after all be just another hamlet or village. She had really no idea how far she was from Caraden. Perhaps, she thought, panicking, she had veered off course and missed it altogether. But then she noticed the outlines of buildings. Straining her eyes to make out their shapes, Hal realised that they were far bigger and grander, far more solid than the shacks and shanties of the villages she had passed through. More lights twinkled and for the first time that day she experienced something like hope. Gathering her thoughts together, she moved on towards the town.

She halted in front of a pair of insouciant guards who were controlling passage through the main gatehouse. Over their shoulders, she observed a few candles in windows, taunting her with the promise of comfort and warmth.

"Stopping here for the night, are we?"

"I hope so."

"Papers of any description?"

She was entirely unprepared for such a request.

"What papers?"

"Well, young Sir, in order for you to enter this mighty metropolis of ours, we generally request some papers."