CHAPTER 2: Flight

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Bercoven Woods, Kingdom of Maceria, Obsidian Empire

Circa 1293 AD

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White snow fell with the black ash and the winter wind buffeted Iseriel's thin cotton cloak as she walked through the woods. She held the hood in place with her left hand by her mouth, which thankfully kept her messy red curls from dancing in the wind and somehow prevented her body heat from escaping through her breath. The cloak functioned more of a skin concealer than a cold barrier because beneath it, she wore only a thin white chemise and nothing else. She was likewise grateful for the cloak's dark green color that should hide her from unwanted attention.

It was harsh weather for the average human. But Iseriel thanked it still because it discouraged pursuit. That, and the fact that she wasn't fully human. Despite her near-nakedness, her body adapted to the cold. She grew up in these woods. Well, a little deeper in. But the dark and dank forest floor reminded her of home. Her real home.

She carefully wove between the giant roots of Evergreen Haws sprawled in the forest floor. The gray-barked trees provided excellent hiding spots, with trunks wide enough to hide a full-grown horse. Moss and grass covered most of the ground which masked the sound of her strides, but the occasional crackle of dried leaves and twigs from her steps would make her wince. The vast canopy completely blocked out the sky. Haw trees indicated that she was getting closer to her destination.

Then she heard barking. Iseriel quickly turned her head to the sound.

'It can't be!' her mind raced.

She quickened her pace, unmindful of the biting cold that was beginning to numb her bare feet.

This far north from Highburgh and deep in the Bercoven Woods, she should already be safe. Maybe it's just wolves. But despite this self-reassuring thought, she did not slow her pace.

Iseriel inwardly laughed at the thought of feeling safer in the company of wild wolves than the alternative. Well, in truth, she would prefer to deal with wolves right now than be pursued by the palace hunting hounds. Wolves she can outrun. While she can likewise deal with the giant dogs, it's the accompanying handlers she is more worried about.

Then again, it could be Vilkasvarg. If so, then she knew her chances at living would be nil. So Iseriel dismissed the thought, deciding not to worry about it.

The barking became louder. It was getting closer. Trepidation rose in her chest as she turned her head in the direction of the noise again. The dark forest floor was empty of movement save for her. Now, the incessant racket disturbed the forest's peace. Something was not right. But she needed to be sure.

Iseriel hid behind a Haw trunk and held her breath. The barking was persistent.

'No!' she realized, 'wolves don't bark like that.' Wolves howl. 'It's them!'

Adrenaline coursed through her limbs and Iseriel broke into a mad dash. The wind was whipping her face which meant that it carried her scent back to her pursuers. The thought spiked her fear even more and gave her legs a boost.

She ran for some time but the barking kept growing closer. She finally broke through a grass clearing that gave her some view of the sky. No stars tonight. In their place were dark clouds that threatened to spill more wetness upon the cold lands.

The only illumination came from the almost ethereal glow of the Skybow that broke through the clouds at certain spots. Despite the thick cloud cover, the skies of the world are never truly dark at night.

Iseriel shortly crested a small hillock and stopped to steady her bearings. A small stream broke the land just a short distance below before the trees of the Bercoven woods claimed the lands again. From this vantage point, she found what she was looking for.

Beyond the already high forest canopy ahead, she could see the landmark that was her destination – a high wall of rock that bordered the entire northern edge of the Bercoven Woods. The Blackmargin.

From this distance, it looked like a mountain range that stretched from one end of the forest to the other. But Iseriel knew that up-close, it was a cliff, a sheer wall of near-smooth rock that reaches to the sky it is impossible to scale with bare hands.

It reminded her of the towering walls that wrap around the city of Ourense. Walls that not even the proud Aldren Dominion was able to breach. Only this one was a natural wall that seemed to have been made to keep even the true giants of the land – the titans and the behemoths, away.

She was in the right direction. She is almost there.

'No!' Iseriel reprimanded herself. 'They will find follow me and then they will find them.'

She cannot risk it. The thought of not returning home pulled at her heart but she decided to err on the side of logic. 'They have suffered enough.' She immediately forced the thought back to the dark recesses of her mind where it came from.

Iseriel descended the hillock and veered to her right, abandoning all hope of ever returning home. It's a desperate attempt but her chances now lie in the port city of Galistile. That was due east. Whatever lay between here and there, Iseriel decided to brave it.

She crossed the shallow stream and entered the forest.

Thwack!

A bolt stuck to the tree where her head had been just before she detoured. She jumped with a start and picked up her pace, delving deeper into the safety of the Haw trees. Crossbow bolts began hissing behind her and smacked on the trees.

'They're not here to capture me!'

Iseriel thought he had grown fond of her, enough to just want her back as a slave. As it appears, that is not the case anymore.

More arrows flitted behind her, some narrowly missing her ear.

Iseriel's senses attuned to her surroundings and she sensed the attackers. Two on separate points triangulating on her from the top of the trees to her left and right, training crossbows in her direction and one just below the sniper on the left, guided by the giant palace hounds.

Ahead of her, Iseriel heard the faint rumble of falling water.

'No!' She was trapped.