The Fugitive Prince Read online

  “Eat up. We have a long way to go. I will gather up the gear.”

  The door slammed close behind her. Valente stared at the dried morsel. He snatched it up trying to recall the several breaches of etiquette eating ground-food would be. His stomach growled in happy anticipation as he took a hearty bite from the rabbit meat. The gamey flesh tasted better than it looked. As he chewed his meal, Valente looked around the cabin. A lone window to his right was opening letting in the breeze and light illuminating the room. North of the window was a small chest covered in varying pieces of clothes. Along the same wall ran a small collection of shelves on which a small library of ancient romance novels sat perched. Underneath the shelf was a small wooden cot with a lone fur hide covering most its probable faults. Valente looked to his right taking another hungry bite out of the jerky. A small table accompanied by a crooked stool and a short box sat just out of the arc of light thrown by the window. Letting his eyes follow the light he looked to his left at the table. Its surface contained several assortments of knives and ropes along with a filled quiver. The bow caught Valente’s eye. Shiny silver metal ran in a line across its front exaggerating its well-made curves. Carved along its brilliant light wood were unknown markings. Tenderly tracing with his hand, he followed them up to the string. He flicked the bowstring in curiosity. It happily bounced back and forth from his touch. The prince’s eyes widened with incredulous wonder at the string.

  It can’t be. Pure spidersilk.

  The door smashed open against the wooden wall.

  “Get moving. We have to go.”

  Before Valente could open his mouth to question, Cass had already grabbed several drying foods from the rafters and wrapped her bow and quiver across her chest. Rushing towards the doorway she turned towards the prince.

  “Now!”

  Valente’s mind stuttered. He was not used to being a subject to command, especially one told in such a manner. Even the Liosian nobles had more tact, but Valente figured this was not the time to bring it up. He rushed out of the cabin behind the huntress following the woman that promised to get him home.

  -4-

  As the door slammed shut behind them, shouts came rolling from the hills overlooking the outcropping. They called and rang out above Valente and Cass. The two looked up towards the tree-laden slope. The wind tossed up a Liosian banner over several armed soldiers. In front of this small battalion was a familiar face of a dirty peasant. He outstretched a hand of judgment as he pointed towards the cabin and to those that stood in front. His eyes were wide with greedy accomplishment and zeal. The final purpose of his meager and poor life was fulfilled. He stammered to his escort.

  “Over there!”

  Valente stared petrified by the lances pointed in unison at the sky as though to challenge its authority. The outstretched points marched down the hill. The troops moved with unerring precision. A brazen glinting icon of fear emblemed their silvery armor.

  The Iron Stars.

  Their arrival tugged at his hope. Cass looked back at the prince to see him stunted by the oncoming troops. With great haste, she grabbed him by his arm and tore him out of his fearful shock towards the nearby woods. The soldiers continued their advance. Their ranks lowered down the hill to reveal a line of crossbows aptly being loaded.

  “Halt fugitive!”

  A Liosian plume waved in the wind atop the hill. Captain Rythor grinned with glee as a child at his new toy. The captain drew his sword with gusto.

  “Crossbows, fire!”

  A symphony of ill-tuned harps snapped behind Cass as she pulled Valente behind her. He barely kept up. The prince stumbled most of his way forward to find quick footing. The heavy gasps soon filled Valente’s mind. His heart thumped as it wallowed in terror. The heavy sound numbed all other noises as they ran through the woods. The twigs and leaves crumbled underfoot. Their cries silenced by the slice of bolts in the air.

  Cass jumped over a fallen log. A whistling dart grazed above her ear biting her like a voracious bug. It carried further and greeted a nearby tree with a weighted thud. The prince let out a yelp as a bolt tore through the cusp of his vest just avoiding his certain demise. Valente turned in a panic to see another flurry of bolts behind them. Each tip aimed to skewer them both with perfect and deadly accuracy. Valente collided with the log. His momentum persisted and sent him into the ground and a surprised huntress. Several bolts pierced the air where they had and would have been. Cass bounced on the ground in a tangled mess. The top of her bow clipped her forehead inflicting a small laceration. Valente landed on a surprisingly soft huntress. Cass grunted from the painful landing. She shoved herself and Valente from the ground.

  “Nice save.”

  Cass pulled the prince deeper into the woods. The torrent of bolts and shouts faded into the trees behind them. The two continued to flee and disappeared into the canopy of the Liosian forest.

  It had been a while since the bolts stopped flying by. The distant yell of soldiers no longer clung to the air. Valente continued his poor effort in keeping up as Cass led her nimble way through the undergrowth. Valente avoided a narrow collision into his female guide as she suddenly stopped. He looked up through his sweat-drenched bangs at Cass. His voice condensed into a desperate curiosity.

  “What is it?”

  Cass darted her eyes through the undergrowth while she sought to slow her heavy breathing. The air calmed her mind and body as she inhaled the peace within it. She angled her head as to listen. Valente stood silent for an impatient moment then persisted.

  “Why did we stop? What is out there?”

  Cass dropped her hood and let the foliage that clung to it fall to the ground.

  “Nothing… that’s a good thing.”

  Valente bent down breathing in the cool air hoping to fill his burning chest. He twisted his head to look at Cass as she peered into the surrounding trees. Their gaze met. Her green eyes remained alert yet contained ease.

  “Should be safe for now. Their heavy armor gave us an edge.”

  Cass rubbed her braid in reflection.

  “But we can’t afford to slow down.”

  Valente nodded his head and then brushed his hair back to a more manageable state.

  “It’s true… if we don’t hurry there’ll be more soldiers out hunting, but I would prefer if it were at a more agreeable pace. Less…”

  Valente wiped the messy precipitation from his brow.

  “Sweat… and perhaps even a little less deadly. If you could manage.”

  Cass studied the prince as he knelt and panted. She was unsure if he was serious or delirious. She laughed instead. The prince smiled as he put a hand on the ground to stop him from collapsing into the forest floor. His stubbled face was covered in dirt, perspiration, and grime yet his blue eyes cut through his clumps of black bangs. His vest had been rendered into nothing fancier than a commoner’s tunic, yet something caught her eye about him. It was not his well-edged chin or his fair-skinned cheeks. Something drove his words whenever he spoke about his home. A familiar warmth she used to feel about Lios. It was an odd thing to be impressed about. She shrugged. He had more drive than most men possessed.

  Handsomer than most too.

  Valente looked to meet the thoughtful gaze of the huntress, but her green eyes tore away as she walked north. He swore he saw a hint of red on her cheeks. Perhaps it was still from the frantic run. Valente stood up and pursued. Cass absently grabbed her braid yet again running her hand along it. She took careful steps through the woods. Her fingers traced the silver clasp in her hair.

  “You and Maria… were you close?”

  A twig snapped under Valente’s foot.

  “Um, yeah. I suppose so. We were as close as we could be without Jonathan disrupting things. She had a way of getting what she wanted, regardless.”

  Valente rubbed his cheek remembering a past kiss. The sharp hair of his chin brought him to the present.

  “How about yourself? Any Mr. Hunter?”

  Ca
ss vaulted over a log.

  “No… I don’t work well with others.”

  Valente smirked as he placed a noble hand on his heart with a faux bow.

  “Well, fear not. You get me to Tharia and I will ensure you will have many suitors. Most will probably be handsome.”

  Cass giggled as she watched Valente throw himself against the log. The wooden barrier proved more difficult than he expected. Cass shook her head.

  “I don’t want suitors.”

  Valente heaved himself over the log as he roughly landed on the other side joining his guide.

  “Oh… you’re not… otherly inclined?”

  Cass’s cloak snagged a bush.

  “What?! No no no! It’s just… it’s probably stupid to a royal…”

  “What would that be?”

  Cass’s cheeks reddened as she hoisted free of the snag.

  “Well… I want to wait for love.”

  Valente’s vest caught the same snag. A new hole emerged at the knee of his pants.

  “And I thought Liosians had no heart.”

  Valente let his anger tear him free turning the hole into a small canyon. Cass sent him a smile out of pity.

  “I’m no common Liosian.”

  Valente smiled grateful to be free of the devious stick

  “You have certainly proven that true.”

  Cass picked up her pace as she jumped over a small creek that ran underneath the roots of the forest. A grin tickled her cheeks.

  “Good.”

  Talk soon simmered away as they forged their path. Cass set an enthusiastic pace as Valente continued to do his best to catch up. Valente welcomed the reprieve with a thankful exhale as the huntress slowed to a stop.

  “What is it this time?”

  Cass drew her bow dexterously notching an arrow. Her eyes attempted to cut through the shadowy bushes. Raising a finger to her lips she gestured to Valente to stay low. The prince crouched. Nearby, one bush swayed in the wind. Its unnatural motion caught even the prince’s untrained eye. As though it knew it had been spotted, the bush ceased to move. The wind once more rustled its leaves shaking the bush to life. A shadow darted from beneath its shelter. Cass focused her bow and breathing as she trained her aim on the fleeing creature. The tip of her arrow and the shine in her eye glinted as the target lined up. She let her arrow free as it whistled into the obscured figure. Cass smiled.

  “Looks like we have dinner.”

  Valente sat upon the nippy moss. The log underneath groaned as the prince sat atop it rubbing his arms. Opposite him was the huntress focusing on the ground in front of her intent on her task. Cass toiled away with a small piece of wood and a bundle of dried grass. Valente peered over and watched the huntress rub the wood furiously together. After several long jarring movements with the pieces, a red glow emerged. Red sparks dancing along the dry foliage bringing forth a flame in their wake. Pleased with her progress, Cass grabbed a few of the larger pieces and fed them to the newborn fire. Its hunger licked at the bark as it grew and consumed. Cass took one of the remaining sticks and drew her knife. She cut away at the wood. Valente leaned forward in interest; he had never seen a fire started this way. Most fires were ablaze before he arrived in the room.

  “How did you do that?”

  Cass lowered her knife interrupting her whittling with an inquisitive look.

  “You don’t know how to start a fire? Really? What do they even teach you in that castle?”

  The burn of embarrassment fell on Valente’s face.

  “I… never had the chance to learn.”

  Taking his lie, Cass’s interrogative glance fell into a smile. She put away her knife.

  “Come here. I’ll show you.”

  Valente stood up and approached Cass. The chill around his body made a slow fade as the small fire became bolder. Valente crouched beside her with expectancy. He was ambitious to experience a lesson that was neither impractical nor dry. Cass met him with an entertained smirk.

  “Alright, fancy pants.”

  Valente’s dignity winced.

  “To start a fire, you need fuel.”

  Cass picked up a small bundle of dried grass from within her cloak and held it between two fingers.

  “This is where you start. Dried hay or grass or anything small. Burns fast and catches easy.”

  Placing the bundle on the ground, she picked up a few twigs of various sizes lost in the surrounding foliage.

  “These small ones are called kindling. You want to follow the starter with them. These bigger ones come after the kindling, then you can gradually build up to sticks and logs.”

  Cass looked up from her varying piles of fire starters at the prince. Valente intense stare analyzed the segregated array of branches. Cass continued.

  “Makes sense so far?”

  Valente intuitively nodded. He picked up one of the smaller twigs before snapping the tender fragment between his fingers. Cass clapped her hands together.

  “Now starting the fire is the hard part. You need a base.”

  Cass reached over toward a pile of larger pieces of wood she had collected prior selecting a near bowl-shaped piece of bark.

  “And you need what I call… the friction stick.”

  Cass picked up small broad stick with an unexpected and flamboyant flair. Valente gave her a skeptical look for both the name and the fact it was possible to make a fire with the friction stick. She placed the bowl before her and put the dried grass in the center. She pinned the bundle of grass with one end of the stick. Opening her palms and placing one on each side of the friction stick in a hand sandwich. She looked up at Valente.

  “Now this is the tough part.”

  In a swift flurry of movement, Cass twisted the stick upon the grass and bowl frantically moving her palms back and forth.

  Valente stared at the spinning mess. After several long moments of whirling, curiosity and impatience nipped at the prince. He could not contain it.

  “Are you trying to drill a hole in there? It doesn’t look like—”

  Valente almost bit his tongue as his mouth stuttered in surprise. A small pillar of smoke wisped out of the bundle of grass. Cass grinned and continued to twist the stick. Cass brought her mouth close to the bowl and gently exhaled. From within the grass bundle a small glow of orange pulsed to life. Valente leaned closer nearly bumping heads with his guide. Fire burst out and engulfed the grass.

  “Now, Valente, feed it the fuel.”

  Stunned for an instant, Valente grabbed the kindling and threw it on the miniature blaze. A small sense of excitement grew as he fed it progressively larger pieces. Cass leaned back and tended to her own fire. She could not suppress her smile as the prince looked her way in excitement.

  “This is incredible. Arthan never showed me anything this… useful. This is actually fun.”

  Valente stood up in his glee and looked upon his warm creation. He addressed the spectating woods with a proud and proclaiming stance. Cass stomped the fire out crushing it and the prince’s pride.

  “Hey!”

  Valente glared at Cass with murderous intent. This betrayal would not go unpunished.

  “Sorry, fancy pants.”

  The cheeky huntress giggled.

  “We already have one fire… You can start the next one.”

  The prince looked in despair. The blackened grass and twigs were now absent of any lively flame. A small blaze of heat tapered way. Valente let his anger subside.

  “Thanks for showing me this.”

  Cass nodded and smiled, pleased with her new apprentice.

  “Not a problem… Now go get more logs. My fire is looking cold.”

  Valente looked at the slayer of the little fire he loved with an instinctive sneer.

  More commands?

  The prince shrugged off his indignity and attitude. He did not mind. The way she spoke was not out of contempt or demand, but a playful manner with a reasonable respect. Respect suitable for not a prince, but a person. Valent
e further swallowed his pride.

  Perhaps some peasants are not so bad.

  Valente began his search of the surrounding area for suitable pieces of lumber. Cass picked up her knife and went back molding the slender stick.

  Valente returned with an armful of large sticks. Cass finished up her wooden project. Two split branches stood on either side of her fire. Their branches reached upwards anticipating the center. Placing the impaled rabbit on her handmade spit, Cass gestured towards the depleted pile of wood beside the fire. Valente complied placing a sloppy pile just out of reach of the flame’s grasp. With a swift and just swing, he kicked some order into the rabble of wood. Satisfied with his arbitration, the prince leaned towards the fire. The heat wrapped around him once more as it fought off the chill of the darkening night. Valente regarded the cooking rabbit. In the time he had spent foraging, the rabbit had already been skinned and mounted on the wooden spit with expertise. A subtle and welcoming aroma drifted to the prince’s nose. His stomach admired its future meal.

  “Smells good.”

  Cass leaned her back on a mossy tree.

  “Give it time and it will also taste good.”

  Cass wiped her bloodied knife on a patch of unassuming moss. Content with the blade’s new glint she sheathed it under her cloak. Valente sat opposite of the huntress finding a soft mound of grass.

  “Hey Cassandra, where did you learn all this stuff?”

  Cass looked into the fire. The question burned her as though she were in the flickering flames. She grabbed her braid as she pursued a deep memory.

  “Most of what I know I was taught… by my parents. My Dad… he was a good hunter.”

  Valente could hear a familiar tone in Cass’s voice. One of loss.

  “My apologies. I did not mean to bring old wounds to bear.”

  Cass looked up at the prince evaluating his sincerity. His concerned brow gave her some comfort as she delved deeper.

  “He was part of the Liosian-conscript… The People’s Militia.”