Queensmen

Chapter 4

~If The Will Stays Strong~

The moment Oris set her left foot on the stirrup, rough hands hoisted her onto the horse from behind. She did not try to struggle, not wanting to risk a fall and the subsequent breaking of her neck.

Instead, she let Tristan untie her hands then patiently waited for the moment when they would need to be linked back to each other. He was kind enough to allow her time to massage her chaffed wrists as he loaded the horse she sat on with supplies, and she was glad for that.

Ridding was already a discomfort for her without being able to see, and not being able to use her hands made it all the more intimidating. If the horse was startled there would be no way for her to calm it down or break the subsequent fall.

She realized that this was probably what the brothers wanted, for her to be too terrified to escape.

It was working.

Despite the sack still over her head, she knew that Tristan was the one beside her, muttering the occasional curse everytime thunder rumbled in the background. Marcka was never more than a few feet away her, he never came too close either, always vigilantly watching her from a distance. She wondered why that was but never bothered to ask, he probably didn't like women or something queer like that.

She didn't care, being more comfortable with Tristan anyway. They had somehow come to the understanding that she wouldn't attempt to escape unless there was a clear opportunity to do so, and he retaliated by doing a swell job of leaving no openings.

They had been going through this routine for days now, riding for a while—a long while—then stopping to restock. Oris didn't know how long it had been or how far she had travelled, she just knew that she had seen four sunsets and two crescents in total. She was jarred by the inconsistency of when and what she was allowed to see and generally slept whenever she got too tired instead of when darkness fell.

There was no way for her to keep time without loosing count but she knew that slightly more than four days had passed.

She supposed that was the point.

They left her blind for most of the journey to prevent her from knowing where she was going or remembering the way back. They didn't even want her to be able to formulate a guess.

"The bloody sky is about to fall," Tristan hissed suddenly from beside her.

Hands returned to hers and in a few twists of rope she was a captive again. She turned her head towards where she had heard him speak from. "Are we there yet?"

"A stone's throw away," there was a beat of silence followed by the deafening roar of thunder. "Thankfully," he added under his breath.

Oris felt a tug on her horse's reins and once again she was in motion. She had long given up on figuring out whether they were heading East or North towards the borders, or if they had just been circling around Heibey. She had hoped that Rodholf would be able to find her but now doubted if it would be possible, there was too much distance between them already and she had a feeling that as more days passed it would only widen.

Even if things were like before, back in the times when Rodholf was the General of the Orsyan calvary and actually had influence across the borders it would have taken at least a month to find someone who was well hidden.

Tristan and Marcka didn't seem to be playing around either. They knew what they were doing and were confident in their abilities. They knew that they wouldn't get caught and Oris was starting to get affected by that confidence.

Still, in the end she needed to be found. Orse couldn't be revived without an Orsyan royal. If she couldn't escape then she might not have a chance to meet up with possible forming rebellion later on in the future. All her plans and years of hiding would be for naught.

Oris curled her fingers into her palms, feeling anxious for the first time since her trip with Tristan and Marcka had started. If Rodholf didn't rescue her, would she really have to kill herself?

In theory, it was possible. But life wasn't theory.

She might have been ready to face death two years ago, but now things were different. She had lived, and she had lived well. She had found a new reason to live with the expectation of a child, of fresh hope.

She was no longer a queen who believed in nothing and hence had no conviction. She was no longer a puppet.

Now she believed in her state's revival, she believed in the royal bloodline, she believed that Fate had given her a new lease on life in order to make a change.

"I. . ." she started, but her voice was not audible with the peals of thunder rumbling in the background.

What should I say? Oris' shoulders slumped in defeat. What can I say? Tell them that I'm actually the Queen that died weeks ago and expect them to bow at my feet and offer apologies?

She nearly laughed at her own naivety and chose to keep her mouth shut. If Fate chose to only grant me two years, I shall accept his decision. After all, I should have died that. . .

Her train of thought was dispersed when a pebble hit the sack over her head.

What? Oris frowned as another fell, this time as a painful spot on her arm. It didn't take long to realize that it was rain because soon she was drenched and gasping for air.

Somewhere in the periphery she heard Tristan curse loudly and if this was minutes ago she might have laughed in joy since the appearance of such heavy rains meant that farmers were going to have a plentiful harvest. But the Oris right now was occupied with the daunting task of getting air into her lungs.

Tristan and Marcka hadn't seemed to have noticed the way the sack hugged her face and clung to her nose, essentially suffocating her. They were too busy calming the horses down while simultaneously searching for shelter, she could tell by the sounds of yells and hooves splashing through the mud.

Oris felt dizzy, as though her already dark world was darkening even further. Her head spun as she fought to stay upright. In the end, she couldn't persist, feeling her body start to tilt as her eyes fluttered shut and she finally gave up on breathing.

She was grateful that she had lost consciousness before she fell, at least then her death would be painless. And she was sure that her name would be put down among the great men and women who had risked their lives to slay the fire-breathing dragons that never died.

~

So, here we are. What do you think happens next? Oris has fallen. Where is Rodholf when you need him? Who is the mysterious employer that wants Oris, and why?