Chapter Eleven - FLEEING

The riddabeast bursts through the gate before any proper alarm is raised. If runners or messengers had tried to reach the gates to inform the guards to close them then they were no doubt at a disadvantage. I was on a charging riddabeast that rose above the crowd and forced the people out of the way. Unless they, too, were desperate enough to almost ride down citizens then I was always going to escape.

The road is choked with repulsorwagons and other vehicles so I leave the route and ride along the side of the road, through tall pale blue grass that I feel sweeping past my legs. The riddabeast is panting noisily and I am afraid that it will slow but it does not cease. It is as scared as I and does not stop. Confused people trying to enter the city shout me and I ignore them. I am dressed as a soldier of Fedarn and I do not need to answer them.

I do not know how long I ride but it is a while before I decide to look behind me and see if I am being pursued. I did not want to look. The road ahead is open and freedom is almost assured. Seeing soldiers chasing me would destroy that feeling and it felt good to be away from my master.

But although I am laughing as the wind of the ride brushes my face I am also weeping. Not only do I leave the great capital city of Fedarn, of the Ki-Ki Sector, I also leave my friend. My strong simpleton friend, lying covered with blood on the arena floor. That is not how I wish to remember him! That was not supposed to be the way I last see him, lying in the sand with his face twisted in the agony of death. I want to remember his smile, his eyes as they brighten at the simplest of things. His deep childish laugh, his soft breath as he slept.

There is a part of me screaming as I try to blame myself for his death but I cannot let that scream take form. It was not I who gave him to the trainer. It was not I who killed him. I cared for him, washed him, fed him and watched over him. I did not kill him.

The weeping turns to laughter again as I realise that I am not responsible. I have spent so long blaming myself for many things that have happened to those about me that I lost sight of my own purpose. I lost sight of who I was and what I was capable of. Am I to try and anticipate the results of every action I take? What kind of life would that be? Every decision, every word spoken or every movement made scrutinised and considered before execution. A life of second-guessing and inaction. The things that I didn’t do would just as surely bring about unfortunate situations as the things I did finally decide on.

I am no longer defined by balance. I am free to make my own choices and I am no longer the coward I was in making those choices.

I have finally come to realise this although I am not pleased with my moment of realisation. Now I am fleeing the Ki-Ki Sector in the garb of a soldier and I have killed three men and mutilated my master. It seems my newfound freedom is something I will not have long to cherish.

It would not be long before soldiers are despatched to hunt me down. It would be easy to imagine the capital city glad for my exit from it’s majestic walls, but the men who dwelt within her breast would not let such actions go unpunished. I am an escaped slave and a murderer and they will not tolerate such things. An example will have to be made of me for if I am to escape it will be a signal to other slaves to try the same, with little chance of retribution. They would capture me, carry me through the streets and then stake me outside the main gate as a sign to others that such things would not be allowed to happen.

As a soldier of Fedarn, I would have done exactly the same thing.

So it is with renewed purpose that I dig my heels into the riddabeast’s flanks and force more speed. My only thought would be to ride as fast as possible north and hope to lose my pursuers in the territories.

But such a thing is obvious. They will know which gate I rode out of and will no doubt follow the route. My course must be thought out in greater detail, that much is obvious.

The riddabeast will not get me all the way north and I have no provisions. My knowledge of the land is non-existent for my journey here was along one road of apparently very little importance. There was one place I knew of, however, where I could equip myself for the long journey ahead.

The house by the hill is on this road and during my short stay there I took in much detail. I knew of the layout of the guards and the general order of the working day. If I timed my arrival right I may be able to get inside, take what I need and move on.

It is then I hear the thunder of riddabeasts. Behind me, around the side of a low hill, there is a dust cloud as many beasts travel the road. I know that the capital city is in pursuit of me, now, and I have mere moments to choose my next course of action. I must be swift in my decision as the steeds of the soldiers bear down upon me.

I leap from the horns of the saddle and slap the riddabeast on the rump with my vibrosword, the blade biting deeply, yelling and screaming. The riddabeast, already confused and afraid by the flight from the city, cries out and gallops away madly, its rear legs kicking every now and then as it moves away at an impressive speed. I throw myself into the long grass and lie flat, the thick stems of the plants springing back up to cover me almost totally.

From around the hill come several riders, all Prime Warrior soldiers, and they are low in their saddles with weapons drawn as they fly past. They are silent and intent on duty, with narrowed eyes against the wind of their passing and grim, determined faces. I would have been scared at the prospect of soldiers chasing me but the idea that Prime Warriors pursued me terrified me. I hold my breath as I watch them pass.

As the sound of charging riddabeasts recedes, hopefully they are chasing the dust left by my stolen riddabeast and can see nought else, I hear a giggle to my left. I roll over, my vibrosword pointed out to the sound. The sight of a young boy, kneeling in the grass, his hand in his mouth and a large smile on his face as he watches me, greets me. Now that the riddabeast riders have passed and the sound of the charge has diminished to a far-off rumble, I can hear voices in the field. Children's voices, playing some kind of game, hiding in the long stems.

The boy giggles and points at me. I lie and watch him, guilty at the thought of slaying him so that he cannot report my presence here. If he had intended to do so, after seeing a bloodied soldier obviously hiding from others, then surely he would have cried out as I entered the field? Perhaps he is so intent on hiding from his friends he does not want to cry out. Perhaps that is what has saved him from me.

But would I? Could I have struck him down to keep him silent? Now that the riddabeasts are distant I feel I could not. If the soldiers had still been close and the boy had raised his voice then that may have been different. Still, there is no need to strike, of which I am glad, and I smile back at the boy as I slip away into the grass.

He follows, the curiosity and excitement too much for the boy to ignore. I leave a path in the stems and he crawls after me, his excited scream rising from his lips. His friends cry out, obviously hearing him and starting to approach his position.

Was I to slaughter them all? Two, three, a dozen children, all staring at this bloodied man in the grass, all wondering at his presence? Would I have to swing my vibrosword with such intent? To kill children to keep myself safe - that is not an option. To slay one child would have been one too many and that is not the kind of man I am. An adult makes choices that either places them on the end of my blade or no. A child has the excuse of innocence to save them from my violence.

I see forms in the grass, now, as the other children approach. The tops of the tall grasses sway as they run through it, crying out and laughing. They call a name, a name I assume to be the boy who still stares at me with laughter in his eyes, and to each other.

I slowly slide my vibrosword back into its sheath as the children find the boy. I do not wish to alarm them, as if my bloodied body and stump are not enough, and I sit up as best I can without allowing my head above the top of the grass.

Four children in all burst from the stems. Three girls and another boy, as old as the one I first saw, and dirtier with matted hair and grass-stained tunic. The oldest of the girls stares at me and grabs the boys, pulling them back into her arms. She appears to be the oldest of the group and is taller than me as I sit up.

She watches me suspiciously and I attempt to give her a smile of comfort. The dried blood on my face cracks and itches and I reflexively scratch at it, making the girl shrink even more.

   "Soldier!" the boy cries out suddenly and I panic. My vibrosword sings from its sheath and I start to make my way toward them on my knees but the girl screams, setting off the other two girls and the second boy. The first boy laughs even louder and grins with a wide mouth that reminds me of the man at the house of the woman in the capital city.

I stop my advance. What was I going to do? In my moment of panic, was I going to kill them?

Yes. My first thought was to hack down the children and save myself from discovery. It would have been so easy to slice them open, cutting them down with a simple blow, one cleaves through their weak bodies. It would be like killing a man, except easier and less strenuous. That was my first thought.

As I stagger away from the scene my eyes are once again stung by emotion. What had I done? What had I thought? What had I turned into? When in the legions of Ki-Ki I had fought hard and well to make up for my cowardice and I had also killed whilst a slave. Had the taste of death swamped my body with bitterness?

So many questions I ask myself whilst I struggle through this pool of dismay I have filled. So many answers that do not come. Perhaps that is why I am so confused. Perhaps I do not know the answers and therefore I am loath to act.

I leave the children screaming and laughing. As I career through the grass I glance back to see the long grooves appearing in the field as they run back to wherever it is they reside. The boy's laughter echoes in my ears - he of all of them, of all of us, had not been afraid during the confrontation. A braver man than I.

That guilt, of what I may have done, lingers I my mind as I climb the hill, weaving through sparse trees and bushes. The sun is starting to disappear behind the hills, now, covering the capital city in a blanket of blood. As I crest the hill I take one final look back.

That is how I will always remember the capital city of Fedarn. Bathed in crimson, glittering like a ruby in the dying light, it's white walls soaking the colour. The city appears empty for the gate is closed and the traffic on the road has ceased. I stare at the spectacle of it and, strangely, try to remember where I had seen it before. Like this, bathed in blood.

I finally get to the top of the hill and look down the other side. Sure enough, there is the house of Livu. It seems to be bustling, and as my eyes sweep over the courtyard I see why.

The Prime Warriors pursuing me are standing in the courtyard talking to both Livu and Luyen. They are small figures from this high up but I can see their garb, the uniform of office. I do not know the meaning of the conversation as I can make out no expressions but it is obvious they are asking of my whereabouts. Perhaps Maru had told them in the short time it took me to get to the Master Theatre and then out of the city, or perhaps this house is the obvious first stop along the road and they think I may have hidden here. Whatever the conversation comprises of the Prime Warriors mount their steeds and ride out of the gate, back onto the road and head north. Livu waves his hand and summons some of his servants and then I see that I will not get into the house.

Livu doubles his guard and they suddenly become alert and attentive. They man the walls in pairs and lock every entrance and exit to the house.

My heart seems to become heavy and I drop with exhaustion onto the ground. Now I will never get into the house whilst it is so well guarded. I would have to be a Mindmoon assassin to get within the walls of the place. I needed fresh water, Medpacs for my wounds and food for the road ahead. How was I ever going to reach my sister if I had nothing to escape with?

My sister. Where was she now? What was she doing? Had she used the money I had given her wisely? Had she forgiven me? More questions. Still no answers.

I lean against a tree and take stock of my situation. I have no steed, no supplies and I am injured. I am being pursued by Prime Warriors, and no doubt a cohort of soldiers would soon be despatched to hunt me down, and I have no idea where my sister is, the woman whom I most wish to be with.

My vibrosword was sharp. A simple thrust and I would have been free of torment. I say this with retrospection. At the time the thought never entered my mind but I have wondered many times as to why I never considered it. The reasoning is simple. I would rather die on my feet with my blade in my hand than on my knees with my blade in my throat.

As night closes in I look down at the house and wonder whether I should attempt an entry. I could have chosen another dwelling but no doubt the Prime Warriors had been to all the houses and estates surrounding this area of the city and warned the others to do the same. I could have bluffed my way in as a wounded guard - but having one arm and being known to Livu had destroyed that plan. Having one arm, a description of me the pursuers no doubt used, had damned me to instant recognition. I would have to find another way.

As I watch the house, trying to ascertain any guard plan the protectors of the dwelling may possess, I see a small side door open and a figure emerge quickly. The figure is cautious and speedy, casting continual glances about to see if discovery was near. The garb is that of a lady.

The lady of the house! Luyen! She had defied the probable order of staying within the walls and crept out to gaze upon the capital city in the failing light, as she had done when she had dragged me up to this very hill!

But what can I do? I hide behind the wide trunk of the tree and catch my suddenly hurried breath. She had gazed at me with what I thought was concern when I had climbed on board the wagon to leave the house. Would that concern spill over to helping me, now that I was a fugitive? If I did present myself to her and she screamed, what would I do to ensure her silence?

No more questions! The prospect of making decisions for myself has filled my head with possibilities and paths that I do not know! As a slave it was simple - I did as I was told and asked no reason - but as I am now it is difficult. I do not wish to harm any more people; my guilt over my considered actions concerning the children has set me on that course.

I hear her footfalls approach and then stop as she stands and gazes upon the city. My course is set, now. I need bandages for my wound under my stump from the laserspear of the fighter and food for my journey. I convince myself that I have little choice, but something in me wishes to talk to her again at any cost.

With a deep breath, I step out from behind the tree and whisper her name.