A Fugitive
It was a cold night, the moon barely feasible between the dark clouds. Dasvakcar glided through the trees like a wolf on the prowl. His voluminous cloak trailed after him as he started to speed up his pace. Leaves crunched under his leather boots. He must get away, he must!
~
“Where is he? Find him! I don’t care if you have to go to the end of the earth, get him!” The thunderous baritone of Khai Malcavich echoed round and round in the inner chamber. Elders and Captains of the Amaria hurried about trying to organize their tired yet still tidy, groups. The Amaria brigade of the soldiers, in charge of protecting the castle, along with the land around it, and capturing enemies and spies, were made up of the best of the best, the fittest of the fittest; a group of men more often than not, former assassins and runaways. With an air of confidence, intelligence, and superiority, Captain Darien over saw all operations; he was young, ambitious, and ready for adventure, but still wise enough to know not to go plunging into the forest on a whim. Darien’s second in command, Landor was just as young, just as daring, but because of his lack of sight, it was doubtful he would rise any higher on the career ladder. In fact, he considered himself very lucky to have risen as far as he did, and, of course, he was. Darien and Landor were childhood friends and were devoted to each other like brothers. In this way, as a team, they had together risen in the sight of their leaders and were now leaders themselves.
Living in a rough, small village prepared them for their life as the superior to a brigade of vagabonds and miscreants. Their families were exceedingly proud of them and boasted about them to anyone who would listen. Landor’s parents were especial pleased, since he first had to overcome in blindness and then learn how to control his emotions, as he was tormented often about being incapable of any job he took up. If they continued in this way, rising in importance, they would both very likely be appointed the much coveted position, of an Elder.
Now they and their teams had to go out and capture an evil genius, a man with a mind like a library, sucking in information and abilities, like a vacuum. If the plan Darien and Landor were preparing worked, this mastermind would be theirs. The history behind this malevolence instigator is mostly unknown, only that he has worked for the highest people, pretending to be a loyal, faithful servant and then disappearing when all the information he needs is in his grasp. His last offense was just as bad as his last: trying to overrule the country. It was a simple and easy thing to say but a completely different thing to do, especially with the Secret Watch on your tail. Unfortunately for Dasvakcar, the Secret Watch followed his trail and caught him in the act of forging stolen documents. So he had to flee.
Never in his life had Dasvakcar had to flee from anything, but this time he had been too careless. He had at first thought that the Raustraviks were simple people of a simple country, but he had underestimated the Khai’s paranoia of spies and traitors. Besides the Secret Watch and Amaria, the Khai had under his employment a large, well equipped militia, ready to stand to arms at a moment’s notice.
The Khai’s wife Queen Amrel was in a way totally opposite from her husband. For one thing she was young and trusting, where as the Khai was old and suspicious. It was a forced marriage to strengthen the bonds between the countries of Anthios and Raustraviks. Amrel came from Anthios, which was south of Raustraviks. She missed the sweet smelling pastures, the dark yet comforting forest, and the ocean view from her bedroom window. Her family were sorry to send her away, but her father thought it to be a wise precaution. Too many wars had been fought between the countries and both had suffered greatly in deaths.
Amrel had a discerning mind and had never trusted Dasvakcar. His speeches and flattery had no affect on her. Ever since Dasvakcar came to work for the Khai, Amrel had been treated unacceptably. Her wishes and suggestions were always brushed off and trampled. But now she would get her deserved appreciation. Now Dasvakcar would get his judgment, his penalty. Now that the Amaria were on his trail, Dasvakcar was as good died.
Landor felt every stone along the hallway walls. He knew them well. They had guided him, helped him. He walked forward slowly, until his deft hand met with a metal latch attached to a small wooden door, situated in the middle of the wall. The well-greased latch moved easily, a low screech issued forth from the inky blackness.

“Shush shush, calm down. I know it’s been a little while since you’ve been out,” Landor extended his arm in to the opening until a heavy weight rested on his arm. A kestrel perched on his arm, rocked back and forth. Landor caressed the birds head.
“You ready?” A deep voice echoed from behind him.
“Yes, will you be taking Shasta?” Landor inclined his head towards a cage, opposite his own bird’s enclosure.

“Yeah, he disserves a week or two out.” Darien opened the cage and brought out a gray-coloured Sparrow Hawk. Ever since the birds had come out of their eggs, the two soldiers had cared and fostered them. Their bonds were strong and indestructible. Landor and his bird Delia, had especially attached themselves to each other. Day after day, they had trained together to help Delia become Landor’s eyes. Signals and sounds helped the communication between them.
Landor and Darien walked on together, through passages, down staircases and across courtyards, until they reached the stables. A light drizzle poured down, cooling and calming the horses, which stood at attention, ready to be mounted.
To be continued…