Westward

Chapter 1

        ////Hi. Welcome to my shitty story! Hope you somehow find some droplet of meaning in this piece of crap! Thx.//// -Rowan

           The hollow, straggling grasses crumbled under the massive hooves of Doon. Thunderous hoof beats were as steady as Aowyn's heartbeat, though the nervousness made it irregular. Her hair whipped in a wave behind her, pounding sharply on her back. Muscles of the messenger horse rippled on his flank as the linen bag bounced. She tried to steady the bag so as to not spill the precious contents. A clump of trees shrunk behind her as they galloped away, even each steamy breath was far behind as it trailed after. Frost still clung to the brittle grasses and Aowyn had the bleary sense to feel sorry that her horse's work was destroying such beauty.

As Doon narrowly avoided a wind strewn pine branch, Aowyn peered behind her, searching for any clue that her fellow messengers followed.
Nothing.
Not even a sign that they were alive. Only the thin stretching branches that touch the arriving dawn. She whimpered and stopped the rapid tears that stung her eyes. Maybe they were catching up. Maybe one fell and the other was helping. Maybe they weren't... dead.
The thoughts streamed past faster than she comprehend. The gruesome images screamed back at her. Wanting more. As if craving the gore, the ideas flashed harder, pushing out a cry of fear from Aowyn's lips. She pushed on.
Aowyn was the messenger for her camp, Thinour. When their enemies, Sarason struck a surprise attack in the night, she and two other messengers were sent to bring enforcements from the nearby camp Narcia. Aowyn has made this trip countless times but, never in the night and in need of such speed as this.
Five minutes more. Aowyn focused on steadying the rhythm of their ride. Two hoof beats; down and back. Next two ; up and farward. The sky, she noticed was outlined in silver and pink above the wide yellow, frosty hills ahead. A beautiful color she thought to cheer herself. But it was folly.
Faster.
Doon shifted slightly from the pattern and bucked a bit but, stayed on course.
Faster.
The stable master, Giles had picked him special for Aowyn. Doon was speedy enough.
Faster.
She would get there and draw their army to the full extent.
Ride like the wind.
There it was. To Aowyn's eyes, it glowed because of the internal glory and gold it held. A gate, seven feet tall and considered short was in view. She rejoiced. The tops of white houses and barns beyond that. She could see the recent footsteps and dog prints from the morning in her path but, they were soon to behaves crushed. A guard without uniform was quick to open the small wood gate that offered no resistance.
Aowyn did not slow. Did not slow as she passed countless clusters of houses and barns. Did not slow when a wagon of ice crossed the path. Did not even slow to the request of a second guard at the entrance to the Chief's own home. She had hardly stopped before throwing herself from Doon's back. Ignoring the blisters on the sides of her legs, she might as well been blind to her surroundings. She pounded on the door with hands and foot while screaming her message through the wall. Aowyn was not even aware of the ruckus and shouting of guards. All she cared about was that they knew. They obeyed. They came. It was all she asked.
A guard with long blonde hair appeared from seemingly nowhere, spun her around and gripped each wrist behind her back. Aowyn was stunned for a moment. They had caught her? She felt the man's settling breaths that meant that he knew that she was no threat to them. He was only a half a foot foot taller than her and stronger than he looked. Clenching her teeth, she realized how reckless she had been in these long seven seconds. The guard spoke with ease but, she caught fatigue in his tone.
" Excuse me madam for intercepting. According to protocol, those who do not acknowledge the orders of guards or military officials are to have light questioning." He licked his lips and glanced to the side where other guards stood at the ready.
"Please come quietly without struggle or we will resort to force."
She panted through her teeth.
" I have a message for His Majesty regarding the camp of Thinour. I am an official messenger for my camp and wish to see His Majesty about sending troops to assist the army." The guard froze.
"Battle in Thinour?" He loosened his grip but, Aowyn made no move to escape. The guard released her hands and gripped Aowyn's shoulders, spinning her around to face him. Her nostrils flared in withheld anger, I am doing nothing wrong, she told herself. They are the fault.
She glanced at Doon, tied to the fence looking nervous, he was being searched by the remaining guards. Ears tucked back and snorting, she could almost see the palpable waves of heat and vigor float from him. The flag had been removed along with her messenger bag.
She glared back into the fair haired guard's eyes. They were blue with a hint of green, very light, eyebrows drawn looking like he was almost bored with her. That was unnatural on his face. The only thing that reversed that look was the tight grip and stiff posture. He was anxious. Aowyn jutted out her jaw and was readying herself for stomping on his toes. Aowyn barely missed stomping his foot. He did not seem to notice or maybe did not care. The guard seemed to be more talking to himself than her. Voice blocked out and mind focused, she thought of a plan of escape if this guard happened to be lying.
An official strode towards them, hands in pockets. He a smug grin hanging off his chapped lips. Everything about him seemed forced; posture too stiff, stride too jerky and clenched. Aowyn disliked him immediately. From the tips of his pointed hairs to the heels of his unpolished boots.
"I am no threat!" She snarled and made to stomp on the guard's toes. The guard moved his boot away, and as her own reached the ground he stepped on hers with the heel.
She squeeked and held back a sob. The guard's hands spun her around so she stumbled onto the soggy grass. Immediately, water soaked through her dress layers to her very skin. Aowyn did not even try to stand. It was useless, the guard would only shove her down again. Frost bit into her legs as her eyes traveled downward. Calm. This only needs patience. Aowyn ignored the aching pain in her legs from the thrumming of Doon's backside and the shocking cold of nearly frozen water. She calmly watched the bystanding consul with his smugly crossed arms and fur gloves. The other guards returned to their posts and stood stock-still. Hardly breathing, she followed the pace of the blonde guard, circling round her. Aowyn vauguely noted in the back of her brain that he carried a limp on his left.
"Her stallion did bear the insignia of the stated camp Thinour. " He deadpanned. "I personally have the urge to belie-"
"Did I ask the opinion of a second-class guard!?" The consul yelled before whipping out a stick attached to his belt farward. It stopped, a mere foot away from the guard's stiff side. Anticipating punishment. Flinching, head ducked, fingers spasming. Not even bothering to shield himself.
Aowyn sucked away the pity that was crystallizing inside her. This neither friend nor foe. Just another pawn slowing the time between defeating or conquering Sarason. Just a faceless, nameless, human that she knew existed. Nothing to her.
She stood slowly, making the flinching guard and official halt their own quarrel. The official scowled
"Is this true, young lady?" He growled, seeing the compassion that was unwillingly displayed in Aowyn's complexion. The stick twitched.
"I have an uncanny ability of sorting ones lies." The consul squinted, eyebrow ticking upward. Aowyn swallowed hard and backed up slightly, squeezing the bolts of cloth in the soaking dress.
"Yes." She whimpered, gaze returning briefly to the suspended stick. He did not move an inch. "I am indeed a messenger." He only glared concentratedly. Then, making her breath hitch, the consul made a throaty grunt, making a halfhearted gesture to communicate that she was to leave. He tucked away the stick and yanked his uniform down to smooth it. The guard regained posture and returned to the side of the official, gaze darting between her and the grasses.
Trotting backwards, Aowyn blindly came near to the building. Dress sopping wet and grass stained, she grabbed a handful of the material to ring it out. The icy breeze chilled her skin even farther to her bone, waves of shivers coursed through her. The two Narcians glared but did not stop her progress. The blonde apparently had convinced the consul of her innocence though did none to hint at admittance. Gazes shifted awkwardly as Aowyn inched toward the house. Glancing once at the guard she could sense no emotion behind the mask of stone he cast.
Before considering, she flipped around and darted over the thinly spaced steps. Seemingly stone stairs that were slanted and badly carved. A wide camber dipped outward in the roof of the entrance. Sand and disintegrated leaves collected in the crevices of walls that half covered a mouse hole. Two unembellished pillars stood on either end as an attempt of a supreme government building, though the tilt and uneven carving made it seem cheap. In fact, it was such a weak attempt that it felt even lower than the grungy farmhouses. Looking made Aowyn had the quick mental image of it crashing over her head.
Aowyn's neck muscles ached as she angled her head lower so as to knock. But, the unvarnished wood doors swung forward so quickly that her knuckles moved at the same time.
A man, no later than fifty-five yet half bald already was standing over her. She shied away, noticing an enormous mole on the right side of his upper neck and dranh-root-dyed hairs. His eyes were musty hazel and wide, filled with a thousand emotions. Confusion. Determination. Anger. Viciousness that did not fit with his face. Guards backed him up, looking compleatly stricken at the object in the Chief's hands.
Her brown messenger bag. And a finger. The Thinourian King finger. Aowyn grimaced but could not tear her eyes from the sight. It was only severed just below the second joint. Crusted with half congealed blood, more orange now than red. It was fatter than average, a tendon peeled back from the center. Blood had soaked through the material of her bag and appeared black against the dark, grainy surface. One thing that everybody was amazed by was the onex ring barely hanging still. It was engraved with a bear reaching for sunlight as snakes writhed below.
Aowyn bit back a hiss of disgust, smothered by a shudder. Her gaze dropped to the pebble strewn ground, eye catching on a boot of an official behind her. They had followed. She was surrounded.
"Explain." The King's syllable divided speech surprised her. She was about to talk when he started up again. "Thinourian stallion messenger bearing the King's ring." A shadow behind shifted. "Lone messenger, what sign is this?" His jaw worked as she found words.
"Thinour has been under attack since middle night. Sarason." As if that could explain everything. "Their infantry has been divided from another exporting country trade. We ask assistance." She gulped one last time and turned her head, glancing at the consul and guard.
"Is this true, Master Garrison?" The King's eyes were wild as he used a fist to bump Aowyn away. Probably leaving a sizable bruise but, Aowyn only sucked her teeth in frenzied annoyance. The consul did apparently have a reputation for truth telling. Before answering, he made a hesitant throat whistle that seemed unintended.
"Yes... I am inclined to say that she speaks the truth." The consul spoke slowly. Aowyn could not see him but she thought she heard the clink of his belt. Weapons? She thought.
"Please." Aowyn squeaked. "Help us." Looking back up into the King's eyes she saw his eyes become tender. Then hard again.
"Send regiment fifteen and fourty-two on horseback to Thinour. If their return is later than high sun, order backups. " The King's jowls wagged as he jerked his head, side to side, waiting for argument. None came, so he repeated, "fifteen and fourty-two."
An official in the same uniform as the one behind her nodded and bowed away probably to send the troops. The King threw the bloody sack back at Aowyn, who hardly caught it, nodded sharply once as a sign of dismissal and slammed the single handled door in her face.
Aowyn took a moment to breathe and steady the bag in her hands. She grimaced and took a nudge at the disembodied finger. The ring fell off and almost rolled across the bag's surface before thudding on its side. The consul behind her turned and marched over the crooked steps without bothering to acknowledge her to leave, blonde guard following.
Aowyn lifted the onex ring from the cloth and examined it. Surprisingly heavy and grainy, as if made of wood though she knew it was not. The bear was far more intricate than seemed possible. Tiny swirls were etched into the hide of the bear forming a minute sun engraving that reached mid shoulder. Snakes were carefully formed, not to be confused with lines or sticks. They each had gaping jaws that almost reached the bear. Infinitesimal scales lined each serpent body so detailed and perfect that it could be alive. Aowyn slipped it into her sticking wet pocket and let the wrinkly white finger roll off the bag onto the ground.
Turning, she saw the consul and guard not far away. Doon was still tied to the fence calmer now that he had seen her. She shivered in the cold even though the sun was climbing.
So many unanswered questions. Did the battle continue? Was the Leader safe? Her parents, did they fight? Were they alive? Those other messengers, were they wounded? Lost? Captured? Who was that guard? What had he meant when he said that he was from Thinour? Aowyn groaned. It was all out of her hands now, she would simply have to wait.
Aowyn trotted to Doon, her still-wet clothes slopping against her thighs. Even the tips of her white, hip-length hair were stained green. Doon snorted, steam bursting from his nostrils before dissipating in her face. She strung the handle of the bloody bag over his saddle horn, petting Doon's dusty neck. She fitted a swinging stirrup around her foot and grabbed the horn, using all her upper body strength to pull herself into the saddle. Maybe Narcia had those new contraptions with the fiery powder. Would they bring them? Aowyn realized her stupidity at the thought, but smiled anyway.
She squeezed her ankles hard into Doon's side and started into a trot, feeling the comforting weight of the bouncing onyx ring in her pocket.
As she passed a house that lead to the gatehouse, spotting the carrier of the ice cart that she had most definitely not stopped for. Then, turning behind the second house, she saw the consul and guard. Why do they keep reappearing in my life? Are they stalking me or somthing? She thought. Then, she realized that the guard was lying on the ground. Panting hard. The consul stood above, looking about the opposite of concerned. Vicious in fact. Holding a slightly raised stick.
The stick.
Aowyn's heart missed a beat as she spotted a spot of dark on his left side.
Blood.
As she neared, the guard's panting slowed. He was lying limply over his bent legs, half on his side, half stomach. Aowyn hardly could control Doon but, managed somhow to steer him near the two. The consul peered up at her, eyes calm as ever.
"Dear messenger, what inclined you to grace us with your pleasure again." Aowyn glared, savoring the feel of superiority all high on the horse. But, the moment she looked at the guard who had tilted his head enough to see her, she felt no more superior than a grain of sand. A red welt was growing on his forehead and started to bruise already. Looking almost like a plague scar. She found herself staring a bit too long, and that made her blush, and mentally scold herself noting his predicament. An almost angry expression shone through the pained. She shuddered at the mere thought of blood. "Why, do you possibly feel pity?" The consul acted surprised.
"My pity is limited only to fellow Thinourians. I am merely curious why you beat your guard." Aowyn felt as if that was a fairly good response, though it was a lie. The blonde guard managed to raise himself to standing position and lean against the outer wall of a house. He was breathing in hacking coughs, clutching the bloody spot on his left side. The stick must have hit an already wounded spot. Aowyn thought.
"I hardly feel the need to explain to a woman messenger." The consul sneered. Aowyn hissed. The guard faced away with a flinch before turning back suddenly. With his face still contracted with pain he shook his head. To her.
The consul seemed distracted with somthing far on the other side, jaw slack. Aowyn jerked her eyes back to the blonde guard whose eyes were clouded over, he lowered his salty eyes to the ground and shook his head, facing away again. Wincing, he put a palm to the wound and limped towards the consul. Becoming a guard once again. Doon backed away without her telling him so but, she did not halt his progress. Why wouldn't the guard want her to get involved? She hadn't done much but, why?
"Fine then." Aowyn averted her eyes watching the consul as Doon turned towards the west side of Narcia. Her head turned with it and was mildly surprised.
At least fifty men were in rows of ten each mounted on a horse. In Thinourian standards, that was impressive to even have fifty mares in the whole main city. None of the men seemed trained for battle though Aowyn noted their efficiency. Not even five minutes and the first few rows were starting off into a working canter down the trail. The back rows were checking the packs attached to their horse's flank. That seemed almost too fast.
Aowyn steered Doon to the gate, ready to ride behind the soldiers. Then she remembered somthing. Maybe it was simply because of her unstoppable pity. Or the image of his face in her mind that possesed her to do it. Maybe it was the strange incounter and elliptical words. Aowyn found herself flipping around to the guard. Again. He was starting to limp to the consul, a grim expression that showed nearly no emotion. Too blank to be contemplative yet secretive. She cleared her throat and he tossed his head back to her. Exasperated with her as she was with him.
"I need to know your name." The official was ten paces away and far too caught up in his soldier counting to bother with his personal guard.
He blinked. Confusion crossed the guard's face though it was difficult to sense, one eye closed for a couple seconds. Aowyn gulped and swallowed a smile at this apparent habit.
"Why would you bother?" There was too much weight to that question for Aowyn to think through.
"Secretive reasons that you would want to know about but I don't dare say." He limped closer and stared not at her but at the departing soldiers. She stayed put though Doon kicked a foot up in nervousness.
"Though I have no reason to request secrecy, I also do not know of your devilish-sounding plans. Based on your tone." He raised a single eyebrow as if that statement explained everything. Aowyn leaned down over Doon's neck and rolled her eyes. Pretending to be bored though she rather liked the feel of his contemplative words. "All things to consider, I have nothing to lose." Biting his lower lip finally said,
"Jay Cliff." Aowyn sat up.
"Aowyn Dulay." She pronounced the words with lucidity and had no idea why she had such the audacity. "Well, Jay Cliff, maybe you will be able to inform me of your caning." This of course was one of the most impolite things to say to a complete stranger though it made no indent in the void of expression.
"Last month I took a bullet in the side. It has become a new favorite target for my superiors." Jay shook the long, pale hair out of his eyes and gazed sternly yet softly into her eyes.
"Go. This is not your concern."
His eyes hardened and became the guard once again. Aowyn straightened her back, set her jaw, averted her eyes to the official striding towards the straggling soldiers. Jay limped to his side just as the consul stopped near a splintered wall. Aowyn remembered that Thinour was out of her hands just as Doon started down the trail. His hoof beats seemed sharper than before, more distinct, like the bitter air made the sound bite her ears. Her stomach leapt when she invisioned the crumpled heap of blood and un-voiced whimpers.
The sun glowed with missing warmth, only feeling the heat because her mind knew that it should have been there. A mental illusion.
But it wasn't.
Like the guard's lost warmth. Aowyn turned her head to see Jay statuesque beside the consul.