Deeds of Their Past - 7. Chapter Seven

Nathan woke to a hand shaking his shoulder. Rubbing his eyes, Griff’s concerned face came into focus.

“I think it’s time you found your way out of Remich, friend,” he said quietly.

“What’s going on?”

“Word is there’s a detachment of the royal guard coming to town this morning. They report of two dangerous men who escaped the dungeon at Helmsley Keep.”

Nathan turned to peek out the window. The sun was still well below the horizon. “Can we hide out here?”

Griff shook his head. “I really think it’d be best if you two made yourselves scarce.”

Nathan sighed. “Okay. We’ll need provisions and horses. Could you help us with that?”

He nodded and turned to depart.

“Griff.” Nathan stopped him. “Thanks for watching out for us.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” he said with a grin and left the room.

Brohm, snoring loudly, remained fast asleep. Leaning over, Nathan grabbed his shoulder to wake him. The big man woke with a snort and snagged his hand, twisting it with overwhelming power.

Nathan yelled out in pain. “What’s the big idea?”

Brohm immediately let go and offered a tired sigh. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

While Nathan shook feeling back into his hand, Brohm yawned and peered out the window. “It’s still dark out. Why’d you wake me?”

Nathan explained the situation that they needed to leave immediately.

“Maybe we could hide out at my Pa’s farm,” Brohm said, pondering.

“Where is it?”

“Not far. Near the mountain range between Summerton and Oxollo.”

They headed downstairs to the common room, finding a few men asleep, sprawled over tables and on the floor. A barmaid carrying a tray moved about the room, collecting glasses and tankards. Griff came in from the front entrance.

“I’ve secured two horses. They’re being saddled now. The stablehand knows you’re coming and’ll bring them to you.”

Griff continued walking to the bar as he spoke. “I’ve gathered some dry goods I had in store. It’s not much, but better than nothing.”

He handed Nathan a package wrapped in cloth. “You’ll find some bread and some dried meat. It’ll keep you going for a day or two.”

Nathan stored the package in his rucksack, and clasped arms with Griff. “Thank you for everything. How much for the horses and food?”

Griff waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nathan smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“You owe me. Safe journey to both of you.”

Brohm shook the barkeeper’s hand, and they turned to leave.

“I almost forgot,” Nathan said. “I was hoping to see Danny before I left, but there’s no time. When you see him next, be sure to let him know I said ‘thanks for everything’, okay?” Nathan flipped a coin to the barkeeper. “And to have a round on me.”

Griff’s face blanched.

“What?” Nathan asked.

“It’s Danny. He’s . . . not with us anymore.”

Nathan blinked.

“There was a fire three days ago,” Griff continued. “They found his body, what was left of it, in his home. Nobody knows how it started.”

Nathan’s skin flushed ice cold. His mind flashed with the memory of men leaving Helmsley Keep the night he arrived. He knew in his heart, he was the reason Danny was dead. Speechless, he left the inn in a daze, leaving Brohm to catch up behind him. The big man watched him closely, clearly wanting to comfort him, but wasn’t sure how. Upon reaching the stables, he gestured to Nathan to stay put.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said quietly.

Nathan stood there, blank-faced, watching Brohm speak with the stablehand. Returning with two horses, he handed one set of reins to Nathan, who took them without pause. While Brohm led them down the quiet main street, Nathan glanced up at the pre-dawn sky, stars still twinkling. They usually offered him solace, but now, he felt nothing. Finally arriving at the gate, Brohm painted a smile and waved at the two guardsmen.

“G’morning,” he said.

“Morning?” one of the men grunted. “It’s hardly light enough to call this morning.”

“Yuh, I suppose. We’ve a long road ahead of us. Wanted to get an early start,” Brohm said.

“Clearly. No other reason to be up at this ungodly hour.”

The two gatekeepers didn’t seem to care who they were, and opened the gate without delay. Riding through, they made their way to the road, and headed east toward the brightening horizon.

* * *

They rode hard toward Summerton with Brohm leading the first few hours. But as Nathan recovered from the shock of Griff’s news, he spurred his horse past Brohm, forcing him to follow. Stomach in knots, he couldn’t help but be worried about Samuel. He could hear the man’s hefty laugh, and imagined him saying that nothing was wrong. He hoped he was worrying for nothing.

It wasn’t until the sun was nearly overhead that Nathan finally spoke. “It was my fault.”

Brohm knew he’d said something, but couldn’t hear with the wind rushing in his ears. “What?”

Nathan slowed his horse, allowing Brohm to ride up beside him. “It’s my fault Danny’s dead.”

“How? Weren’t you with me when the fire broke out?”

Nathan sighed. “It’s a long story. But it involves Lord Helmsley and his magick-dabbling alchemist.”

Brohm’s ears seemed to perk up. “Magick? Really?”

Nathan nodded, staring at the road ahead.

“Why did Helmsley have him killed?”

“I don’t know for sure. But I led him to Danny without even knowing it.”

“How can it be your fault if you didn’t know?” Brohm asked.

“It doesn’t matter whether I knew or not. He’s dead because of my actions,” Nathan said, his voice on edge.

“Let’s keep moving, yuh?” Brohm suggested.

Nathan answered by urging his horse to a gallop.

By mid-afternoon, he recognized the few landmarks that announced Summerton was near, and the long grass covering the countryside soon gave way to farmland. Mostly corn, but also potato, carrot and turnip. The thought of food made his stomach rumble, and he realized they’d never stopped to eat. His singular goal had been to reach Summerton as quickly as possible. He glanced back at Brohm. He looked tired, yet seemed determined to follow without complaint, and Nathan silently thanked his friend for being so understanding.

The small village soon became visible on the horizon of gentle hills, yet Nathan felt something was amiss. He couldn’t see the Willow Inn, which easily towered the small buildings of the settlement. Arriving in the village proper, the villagefolk going about their business stopped to stare as they passed. The inn finally came into view, and Nathan looked on in despair. The charred remains of the building had fallen in on itself. The massive willow tree—its namesake—was a blackened skeleton, its thin branches burnt away, leaving only a dead husk standing over the collapsed building.

Nathan leaped off his horse and ran to the collapsed building. Three men stood nearby, inspecting the damage. A grey-haired man caught sight of Nathan, and held out his arms to stop him.

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down, son. It’s dangerous in there.”

Not meaning to put up a struggle, Nathan took a few steps back and surveyed the area.

“What happened?” he asked, out of breath.

“A tragedy,” the man said, shaking his head. “A fire hotter than I’ve ever seen. No amount of water quenched its thirst.”

“But how did it happen?” Nathan demanded.

He shook his head again and shrugged. “It was the middle of the night. Nobody knows how it started.”

“What about Samuel? Did he make it out alright? He was a friend of mine.”

“He was a friend to us all,” he said, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry, son. A number of poor souls lost their lives that night, including Samuel.”

Nathan, mouth agape, stepped away from the man, and Samuel’s warning flashed into his mind again. Had Nathan listened to that intuition, everything could’ve been different. Brohm, the only person left Nathan cared for, stood in the distance, holding the reins of their two mounts. Closing the space between them with determination, Nathan stood toe to toe with him, yet found himself forced to stare up due to his height.

“We’re parting ways,” Nathan said simply.

Brohm gave a look of bewilderment. “But—”

“There’s no discussion. Give me the reins.”

Brohm reluctantly handed them over and Nathan mounted up.

“Don’t follow me,” he said, suddenly overcome with a sense of déjà vu from their first meeting. Ignoring the pained look of dismay on Brohm’s face, he forcefully dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and fled back west through the village to the rolling hills of the countryside.

He had no idea where to go, but it didn’t matter. He only needed get away from Brohm. As much as he tried to fight it, tears streamed down his face, and he screamed out with every ounce of strength he had, cursing the sky.