The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

RUNAWAYS

They had to leave soon, Lysander knew that well enough. They could only remain in one place for too long before they were recognized and word spread of their location. But, the calm of Eastfox, the small community of twenty houses beside the road that led to Yensrotho had broken their feverish routine of being on the run, the constant hiding in shadows. The peace they had found was a stark contrast to its persistent lack at The Mead.

They had seen the signs that had been setup in DoFalmen, seen the rewards of their capture. The honour of nobility was to be granted to anyone who handed them over to the crown. Ever since they had seen their faces plastered on walls, they had taken to remaining in the peripheries, among the small brick cottages with their humble inhabitants. They had become fugitives in their own homeland.

"Stop moping around," Andrew said as he pushed the flap of their small tent and entered; they had managed to secure a mare that was too old to do much work at the farms and a tent from the coin they had stolen.

"I'm not moping," Lysander grumbled under his breath, popping a pea pod.

Andrew gave a rude snort. "Sure. Your face is beginning to resemble the back end of a baboon."

Lysander glared at him. "I'm thinking. Something you should try, sometime."

"Thinking? You? Should I get worried? You're more the reckless type. Act first. Think later."

Lysander rolled his eyes. "Where's Thomas?"

"Fixing a roof."

Lysander hummed. They had started to earn their coin by helping with small tasks in the villages they stopped at, making just enough to buy a few vegetables for their journey to wherever they were going next. "We've been here for a week now. I think we should move."

Andrew shook his head. "I think we should stay for a few more weeks. They've already passed through here. Wait a few weeks more. They won't be after us as hard as they are now. We'll have a better chance."

Lysander would have loved to agree with the younger boy if the paranoia that had been following him all his life, didn't come to the forefront of his mind every time he considered the possibilities. He had spent his life running as far as he could from his past, his history, and almost losing himself in oblivion if his duties hadn't come calling to him.

He had remembered what was required of him, all when three summers old Thomas had woken him up in the middle of the night with his loud bawling. He didn't know what to do with the child, he was only twelve then. He could not let him starve in the streets and so, he had taken him into his small tent and they had grown up together like brothers. He was not scared for himself, he just did not want to lose the small family he had. Not after he had been orphaned at nine.

"We need to head to Mufn," he finally said, pushing the bowl of peas to one side and falling back onto his bedroll.

"No we don't," Andrew said sharply. "We need to make a plan. A full-fledged plan. You've heard of the rebels."

Lysander hummed, brows furrowing. "What do they have to do with anything?"

"We find them and join them," Andrew said and held up a hand when Lysander opened his mouth to speak. "No. Listen. They're our only chance of survival. We'll have to find them sooner or later. We can't keep up like this."

"That's the problem, Andrew," Lysander said, throwing his hands into the air. "No one knows where they are!"

"We don't even know if your father's friend is still alive. And if I'm being honest with you, I don't think he is. Harfen's after you because of your father. He'll have his friends eradicated. Who's to say they haven't already joined the rebels?"