The Fifth Star - Chapter 7 (1/2) - Contact

Though Sparrow had never before ridden a horse, she had no choice but to manage the task the best she could with Darius long unconscious in the saddle before her, taking the reins from his fingers with no small amount of trepidation. The beast was huge, and the sight of the ground streaking past beneath its hooves made nausea rise in her gut while it was all she could do to keep her seat. The jarring of its stride was likewise irritating, and it took several unexpected bites of her tongue before she managed to loosen her own posture enough that the motion became more of a tolerable sway. It ran steadily on in the direction they had been pointing upon their escape and required little input from her, which was all to Sparrow's benefit, as she hadn't the slightest idea where they were now or where it was they were ultimately headed.

She didn't know what could have possibly prompted Darius to fall unconscious, but whatever it was, its influence was strong. She'd let it pass for a time, working on the assumption he was simply exhausted – but now when she tried to wake him, it seemed nothing she did would free him from its grip. She had shaken him to no effect, softly at first but ever increasing in urgency until she had to stop or risk pushing him out of the saddle. Screaming in his ear was likewise ineffective, garnering not even a twitch. Though it had pained her fresh wounds to do so, she had even managed to twist about and reach into the bag to fetch a skin of water and poured some of it over his head, and the result was the same. He was so still, so lifeless, she would have thought him dead were it not for the steady rhythm of his breathing and his weak, fluttery pulse just barely palpable through her gloves.

Please, don't die on me, came her panicked thoughts, I can't make it alone out here, and I have so much to ask you! Everything about her was foreign and terrifying – she had never so much as stepped beyond the city's walls – so even the trees seemed hostile, reaching out for her as she rode past with long and gnarled branches, so unlike the pruned and tidy foliage that could be found scattered around Lothan. Every direction she looked she only saw more of the same, darkness and forest, and she knew for a certainty she could not possibly hope to survive this venture on her own. In a city, survival was different – there was always someone around to steal from, or the rare compassionate man or woman who might throw you a scrap of bread were you to look pathetic enough. As long as you had a place to hide and quick enough feet, the feat was managable. Out here, there was no one else to rely on, no readily available food cooked and waiting to be filched. Only nature and strength could rule here, and to her, that uncertainty was far more daunting.

Still, onward she rode; the fear of the known threat that most likely followed behind her far more incentivising than that of the unknown ahead. She rode until her thighs ached and screamed, ignoring the pain the best she could. The shallow cuts Harlemont had inflicted on her had long ago stopped oozing but her borrowed shirt was sticky with her own blood, and the wounds had begun to ache. I hope, at least, his knife was clean, she thought bitterly; she'd heard of soldiers who had lived through terrible battles only to falter and die from a simple wound gone sour. Still, though they needed attention, she was no healer, and she only stopped once she spotted the faint glow of the coming sunrise through the trees and realized with a start how much time had passed.

A gentle tug back on the reins was all the urging the mare needed to slow and Sparrow spared a moment to be thankful the animal thus far had been so mild-mannered. Once the thudding of its hooves on the hard earth had ceased, she was able to make out the sound of running water somewhere nearby. She swung her head about until she could discern the direction it came from, then dismounted so she could lead the horse on foot. Or she tried to, anyway. Unaccustomed to the entirety of anything to do with horses, she tried to slip off its back but found herself tumbling gracelessly to the dirt instead when her cramped legs failed to obey her. Flushing with embarassment at her own clumsiness, she was glad for just a fraction of a second that there was no one near to witness it as she stood and brushed herself off, mentally adding a bruised buttock to her growing assortment of aches and pains.

Turning her gaze back towards the horse, she saw Darius still comfortably settled and laying over the horse’s neck. He’ll have to wait… I’ll try to set up camp first. She dug into the bag and pulled out all of the items she thought she'd need, laying them out on the ground to take inventory. How he had managed to fit what he had in that size bag was a mystery to her. She opened a long thin bag and pulled out the tent, then struggled with it for what seemed like an hour before she had a rudimentary shelter set up. It sagged sadly on one side, but it would have to do for now. The pile of clothing from within the bag she scooped up in an armful to take to the tent, but as she did so coins began to tumble out of it, nearly causing her to drop it all in her surprise.

Kneeling down, she separated the pile of clothing until she found the rest of the bundle of money that had been hidden inside. Sitting back on her heels, she stared at the shining metal which looked even brighter against the contrast of the dark ground and black cloth they lay upon. As much as she liked to consider herself reformed from thievery and a better woman for it, she still found herself sorely tempted. I could leave, run away on foot and live on this. For years, probably, if I were careful.

After a moment's hesitation, she shook herself bodily to rid herself of the shameful idea. If it weren’t for him, you’d be Harlemont’s play toy right about now. That would be some fine way to repay him for all this. She wrapped the coins back up and tied the ends of the cloth to properly secure the contents before stuffing it back inside the clothing and carrying it all back to the tent as she had originally intended. Next she figured she’d need to start a fire, which could also prove to be problematic. She’d never set one herself, but while they'd lived as orphans, Rhin had been in possession of a small stone – he had called it a flint – that he’d used to set whatever measly piles of leaves, twigs and debris they managed to find alight, giving them an extra bit of warmth on those bitterly cold nights. The stone had eventually been stolen, but she’d seen it done enough times; Darius’s pack held a similar stone she suspected was for the same purpose.

That small memory, just of the flint and the hours they’d spent huddled together in the cold – it transported her to the past. She still held much spite close to her heart for the years she’d waited for Rhin's return. How could I have been so headstrong, so desperate for love to believe he felt the same? Sparrow thought on all the grief she caused Mistress Raven then, how self-assured she had been of his neverending affection. She had stubbornly refused to entertain the idea that he wouldn't return; even after his first eligible Homecoming had come and gone, she had believed in him, merely restarting that three-year counter until they could be reunited. It wasn't until he missed his second release date that the agonizing truth sunk in – and Raven, bless her heart, had not one disparaging word for her even though she had been right all along, offering all the comfort to her young protege that she could until the awful feelings of abandonment and loss passed. Sparrow knew she had been incredibly lucky to be raised by such a woman, and a tear came to her eye. She would miss everyone from her former life; everyone except him, she reminded herself, and with that righteous anger the tears passed and she was able to continue with the task at hand.

She collected smaller branches and twigs until she had a fair sized pile collected. Clearing an area on the ground of leaves with one arm, she positioned the wood into a cone and began striking the flint, showering her little set up with sparks. It took quite some time, but she kept on it and had nearly given up on the task when it finally caught. She threw more wood on and let the flames build up while she went back to the pack, collected a cooking pot and the dried meat she’d found, then it was over to the stream to fetch some water. The horse stood by said stream, filling its gut contentedly with the cool water and making no move to leave; Sparrow was just glad the angle of its back was not steep enough to dump her unconscious rescuer into the water. All her supplies gathered, she seated herself finally by the fire and prepared a broth she could feed to Darius, fishing out the softened meat and chewing on it for her own sustenance while the liquid boiled down.

Once that was readied, she looked back at Darius asleep on the horse and realized she had a bigger problem on her hands than a fire or a tent – how was she going to get him off the beast? She walked over to it and tried to sort it out for some time but only came up blank – the creature was simply too tall, and she wouldn't be near strong enough to lift him gently from the seat. Sparrow gave up on finding a smooth solution; she grabbed onto his hand and heaved. Though he may be slight of form, his sheer height made up for it and he was still much heavier than her. She managed to shift his rear in the saddle several inches, but it wasn’t enough to cause him to slide from the seat. With an exasperated sigh she hauled on his arm again, and this time was more successful. Darius fell out of the saddle… right on top of her. The pair of them went down hard, their combined weight crashing into the ground as his body knocked the breath clear from her lungs.

Sparrow lay there groaning underneath his unconscious body for a short time, cursing both inwardly and outwardly that he hadn’t yet woken despite such an impact. It hurt to breathe and she hoped she hadn't cracked a rib or similar. Once she felt she possessed the strength, she pushed against him with all her might and, by scrambling in the dirt, managed to free herself. She looked at where he lay sprawled, and though it was distant from the fire, she couldn’t see herself dragging him along on the ground all that distance. Instead she brought the broth over to him. Sparrow placed herself on the ground with her legs extended straight out ahead of her, then she pulled his torso closer, resting his head elevated on her thigh.

She sat on the cold hard ground for what felt like hours to her exhausted body, spooning bits of broth into Darius’s open mouth. He swallowed, but did not wake; Sparrow continued until the pot was empty. I can’t sleep yet, what if he dies while I do? Or someone comes for me while I'm oblivious to the world? Damn it all, I wish I knew if I was doing this right or not. She continued to sit long after he had been fed, shifting her weight occasionally when her legs became numb. With little else to do, Sparrow studied his face – he was quite comely once the stern expression was gone, the lines of stress smoothed over in peaceful sleep. His dark hair shone in the morning light and she couldn’t resist peeling off her glove and reaching out to feel its softness between her fingers. She desperately wanted to know more about this mysterious man who’d given up everything to save her from the Valterian Empire and the College of Magi. Why would he do such a thing? Who am I to someone like him? Too afraid to rest, she continued to gaze at him, searching for some sign of awakening.

While she waited, her eyes were repeatedly drawn to the long scar that was impossible to ignore. I wonder how he got it, she thought. Reaching out once again, she made to touch the scarred flesh. The moment her skin made contact with his, a rush she couldn’t explain jolted like lightning through her body, startling her greatly. It felt warm and cold at the same time, sent shivers of pure pleasure down her spine. What was that?! she barely had time to think before the forest and Darius's face disappeared, and she found herself in the midst of another world entirely.

The forest they occupied had been abruptly replaced with a scene of a small village, alight with flame. Plumes of black smoke rushed upwards to darken the sky, the sound of screaming saturated the air as men, women and children ran for their lives. Not one detail of it was familiar to Sparrow, but she was overcome with potent grief regardless. She reached out helplessly towards the sight…

Her vision snapped back to normal, the one hand that had previously been laying against Darius's skin now extended before her, reaching for the flaming homes that had vanished from her eyes. What… her thoughts reacted slowly, and a long moment of confusion passed before she remembered to retract her arm. Was that… his dream? Was I just inside his head? It felt foolish even to entertain the notion. Couldn't be, she endeavoured to convince herself, there's no way that's possible. It must have just been exhaustion, playing tricks on her.

Still, despite herself, her hand extended once more of its own volition. And just as before, she was transported into a vision once the contact was made. Only this time, it had progressed without her, and she was simply a spectator as the form she occupied ran down a path through a wooded area towards a partially finished building at its end. Once there they flung the door open wide, as pointless as that seemed to her as two of the walls had not yet been erected and one could simply step across the threshold instead. A woman stood inside, her head hanging down onto her chest, her copper red hair hiding her visage; Sparrow did not know her, but she felt joy at seeing her as strongly as if it were her own, rising up and filling her heart to bursting.

“Alysse,” Sparrow felt her lips breathe the unknown name, a smile splitting her lips apart generously.

“Where were you, Darius?” the woman asked slowly, raising her head and pushing a lock of hair away from her face to reveal that it brimmed with accusation. “Where were you, while I was burning?”

“I don't understand,” she heard her own reply, “You're standing here. You're okay. You survived.” The wonder in that voice was plain as day.

“You should have helped us, Darius. You could have saved us all…” the redhead's voice trailed away as her face blackened before their eyes. Suddenly, she burst into flames, her form crumbling to ash in moments and falling to the floor.

It was then that Darius screamed.

His ear-splitting yell startled Sparrow out of the vision, pulling her hand back as if she had been burned. The scream stopped suddenly, and she looked down at his face again to see the first sign of awakening in his furrowed eyebrows. Sparrow felt herself smiling despite the disturbing incident, glad to see her watch was at an end and that he was going to be alright.

Slowly his lids split apart, then they burst open all at once as he registered her face so close to his. He made no move to sit however, covering for his shock by casting his eyes about him from where he lay and absorbing his surroundings, then back to her. He gazed intensely into her eyes where they hovered above him, but he did not comment on his position. After a short pause, he opened his mouth to speak.

“How long-” he coughed, dry throat catching on the words before trying again, “How long was I out for?”

“All night,” she replied, “you wouldn't wake, no matter what I tried. What happened? Are you okay?”

Darius groaned, placing his hands behind him to push himself up out of her lap. “I… overexerted myself. Now that I'm awake, all should be well.” He looked about the rudimentary camp she had established, taking particular note of the fire and the empty pot that laid beside the pair of them. “Did you feed me?”

Sparrow nodded with a light blush, hoping he would not mind the intrusion into his personal space.

He let out a small chuckle. “So that's why I woke up where I did. I am glad you had the foresight to do so; things got much closer than I expected.”

This time it was her turn to frown with confusion as she asked, “Closer to what?”

“Death,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Magic always has a price, and if you go too far, it will claim your life to pay it. If you hadn't stopped to help me, I very well could have lost mine.” He looked at her then, and it was all she could do to meet a gaze so intense. “Thank you, Sparrow.”