As John plowed through tough thickets and unsuccessfully dodged low hanging branches, he passed the time by taking stock of his situation.
Obviously somewhere along the way, he'd pissed off the wrong blueblood. It wasn't a difficult stretch to make considering his career choice. There were few people with humble beginnings who reached the rank of Sergeant, the highest rank a peasant could achieve in the Ce'l Empire's military, and even fewer who were in the Vanguard. In fact, he was one of only two people. John could name more than a few royals who didn't like him for his lineage, both subordinates and superiors. But there was only one person who came to mind that had the balls to go so far as killing a Duke and setting him up for it.
Captain Bragger Ja'nes.
He was the man Randy reported to and had a grudge against John since the day he'd been promoted into his Brigade. And Bragger fit the profile of the mysterious man he'd seen exiting the Duke's tent that night. If only the tribunal had believed him when he said he'd seen another man. But the planted evidence and his lower status had stacked the odds against him.
John promised himself, when it was all over, he'd pay Captain Bragger a visit. He wasn't the kind of man to take any punches without putting his own two or three in.
Even if he had a royal lineage.
[That kind of attitude is probably why you're in this mess to begin with] he mused.
He stopped to take a swig of his water and peered through the trees to get his bearings once more. Correcting his path slightly, he increased his pace. John knew it was dangerous to be in the Dark Wood Forest after sundown because it wasn't just named after it's gloomy ambiance. The forest's canopy grew thicker the closer you got to the border and neither the sun nor the full moon would be able to break through. Falling and breaking a bone from the twisted roots that covered the ground wasn't uncommon for those that ventured this far out of the Ce'lian desert. And he didn't care to be injured if the Dark Wood wolves found him. Which meant he had to find the teacher well before nightfall if he was going to try his luck at setting up a campfire with the tools he had on hand.
Putting aside the "who" of his death-warrant, he started to speculate on his current problem. The teacher John was to meet deep in the Dark Wood Forest wasn't likely the scholarly type. They would also have to be able to hide him from the Empire. While the Ce'l Empire was vast, he knew of trackers that could find a grain of salt in a sand storm. How was this teacher going to hide him while he helped the teacher in turn? Having his tattoo removed wasn't good enough and he'd be a fool to think the House of Se'kal wouldn't hire the best trackers in the Empire the moment they got wind of his escape.
John knew crossing the border into the Kalian Kingdom was out of the question. To the north and east, he would face either bottomless cliffs or the heavily fortified Grimwall. Seeing first hand how the Grimwall was manned, and what was done to people who were stupid enough to test it, he'd have better luck jumping over one of the cliffs and praying for wings. Fleeing south or west provided similar improbabilities. The Red Sea's deadly coral reefs were well known and documented. The only safe passages were guarded just as diligently as Grimwall, which didn't leave him with many options.
"What a mess," he sighed to himself.
He pushed a branch out of the way roughly, only to be smacked across the forehead by another behind it.
"Damn this forest!" he roared some of his pent up rage. Grabbing the branch, he brutally pulled and tore at it.
After completely defacing half the tree, he stopped, panting. He watched the numerous branches that had fallen victim to his onslaught sway haphazardly in the wind. Feeling foolish, he chuckled.
He had to admit, though, he felt a little better.
An hour later, John stopped again to consult his map. Randy was no artist but John was starting to think he'd passed the clearing already. He had been sure he was in the right area but when he surveyed the land, there wasn't any sign of a clearing. Just more threatening trees and painful brush.
Turning the map around, he tried to find the sun but it had long since drifted away from his view. All the light he had to work with now was the soft glow that illuminated the forest. It wouldn't be long before complete darkness came and John was about ready to stop for the night. It would take some time to build up a small fire, especially with his lack of tools and practice.
"Just perf--"
The blade pressed against his neck stopped him cold.
[How the hell had he gotten behind me?!]
John knew he was outside of his element, but he was a trained soldier and an elite Vanguard at that. Someone getting the drop on him was difficult to do, and he knew that wasn't a boast.
"State your name and business."
Surprised by the distinctively female voice, he didn't even bothered to argue.
"John Wayden. I'm looking for a teacher."
A long heartbeat passed before the blade disappeared. Holding up his hands in a sign of peace, he slowly turned towards the mysterious woman.
At first, he dismissed what he saw and blamed it on the failing light. But the longer his eyes stayed on her, the harder it was to deny the impossibility before him. The people of the Ce'l Empire were all dirty blond or brown haired, brown eyed, and usually tanned to a golden crisp--she was neither of those.
Long black hair hid her face as she sheathed her dagger against an exposed thigh. At the sight of the pale--and distractingly sensual--legs and arms, he had to swallow. Hard. As the curtain of black hair shifted, pale blue eyes met his and he felt his heartbeat quicken.
[OK. Calm down. Not the first beautiful woman you've seen before] John told himself.
[...But definitely the first Ghourdian.]
"You look like you've never seen a corset before," she said dryly.
His eyes involuntarily made their way down to her red and black striped corset, and then to her short black riding skirt.
Swallowing again, for good measure, John raised his eyes and said, "No… Just my first Ghourdian."
He had heard the stories, but hadn't ever truly believed them. Long long ago, over a thousand years ago, there had been a great war. Historians would later call the war the War of the Thrones. The stories told of a long and bloody war between three great nations: Kalian, Capri, and Ghourd. It was towards the end of this war when the first Empress of Ce'l, a Kalian woman tired of the violence, led people of like-mind away from the wars and into the desert in hopes of starting a new peaceful life. But the Kalian King was furious and, feeling betrayed, he attempted to punish them. To protect their new haven, the newly appointed Empress and her people had to fight for their right to the desert. It was during this battle that the Ce'l Empire had been forged. Every day since their victory over the Kalian King, the current ruling Empress would go to great lengths to protect it's borders from the outside world. Even to this day, by law, every single person in the Empire had to spend at least five years in Her Imperial Majesty's Legions. It was a hard life, but they were free from the harsh rule of the King.
The other two nations, Ghourd and Capri, had been mentioned in the stories but only briefly. The Ghourdians were described as having black or white hair and blue eyes while the Caprians were said to have red hair and green eyes. Having seen only the color brown all his life, until now, he'd passed it off as merely fantasy.
"You going to keep gawking or can we get down to business?"
John realized he'd been taking in her angelic features for far longer than was deemed appropriate. He immediately focused on the nearby trees as if looking for eavesdroppers.
"Sorry. What's your name?" he said, trying desperately to sound like he was talking about the weather.
[Yeah, let's ignore the fact that she couldn't possibly be here within our borders unannounced.]
"Celia Tecard." The closeness of her voice made him look back. She'd crept up on him again. This time she was inspecting him.
"Take off your shirt."
"Excuse me?" he didn't know why but he took a step back from her.
"I'm not going to bite," she said, rolling her eyes.
Feeling stupid, and a little angry for some reason, he pulled his bloodied and dusty tunic off.
"Pants too."
Without hesitating, he ripped those off as well.
To John's childish glee, it was Celia's turn to be surprised. At least, John was pretty sure she was. The light was fading from the forest by the second but he could just make out her silhouette.
"You look like you've never seen a naked man before," he said, maybe a little too smugly.
She sniffed loudly before he heard her shuffling around behind him and then something slammed into his chest hard enough to knock him off balance.
She was strong for such a petite woman.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said flatly. "Now get dressed and be quick about it, we're behind schedule."
Fumbling in the dark, he tried to make heads or tails of what he had in his hands.
"Didn't bother to bring a light?" he muttered in irritation. Her unfriendly attitude was infectious.
The ball of clothes was suddenly yanked away from his grasp and in quick order she had him in his new clothes. It wasn't until she grabbed his hand and started leading him down a path that he realized she could see just fine in the darkening forest.
The pit of his stomach churned with fear as the last of the light took away the faint image of Celia's silhouette. He'd been naive when he thought meeting a mage was the last time he'd ever have to deal with anything other than swords and arrows.
John learned two things while being dragged deeper into the pitch black forest. First, there was no sense of time when in absolute darkness. With no sun or moon to pass over, there was nothing to reference time's passage. If it hadn't been for the sounds of the forest, he'd have gone more than a little crazy. Secondly, Celia was either running late to wherever they were going or she wanted him dead before they got there. She insisted on him not talking, so he couldn't confirm which of the two it was.
Another ghostly tree scratched his arm, giving him his thirty-second scratch since they started their neck breaking pace--he knew this because he had nothing better to do than to count.
A root reached up and tapped his toes just enough to make him stumble.
[Fifty-seven] he thought with gritted teeth as she single handedly straightened him out and pulled him to the left.
He'd quickly learned he had to step higher with his feet since the insufferable woman wanted to zigzag through the gods forsaken forest at a brisk jog. It wasn't the pace that wanted him dead, it was the forest around him. To make matters worse, she didn't stumble once. Celia fucking Tecard had the grace of a dancer and he was trying to keep up with his blind two left feet. He wasn't use to being the laggard, which was why his initial fear eventually turned to frustrated anger.
At first he thought it would be a great idea to tackle her to the ground when he stumbled but that ended up being the worst idea. Ever. And he'd had some pretty bad ideas before.
Not only could the woman see in the dark, move like a dancer, and infuriate him with her harsh silence, but she was also solid. Like a brick wall kind of solid. He'd thought he was being a smartass when he slammed into her but all he did was knock himself nearly unconscious. And then the woman had the audacity to lift him up with one hand and continued to drag him forward, not wasting any breath on him.
When something smacking him across the forehead--he was pretty sure it was a branch she'd intentionally let fly into him--he finally snapped.
"Where the hell are we going!?" John demanded.
She stopped and snapped back at him, "Quiet."
He was about to tell her exactly what he thought about that when he realized her stopping hadn't been for his benefit.
And then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
[Something is off…]
It took him a few seconds to realize what it was. The whole forest had stopped talking to him. No crickets, no owls, no chirps, nothing. Celia's hand released his and for once in his life he felt truly alone. As if all he had was his consciousness. That he was just there.
It was a terrifying experience.
[Easy] he told himself with a calm inner voice. [It's not like you're afraid of the dark. No sense in giving her the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.]
Straightening his back, he put himself at a parade rest. The familiar pose calmed his nerves enough that he could focus. Closing his eyes, he tried to hear where Celia was. Abruptly, the silence was broken by the distinctive sound of stone grinding against stone. To John's amusement, it reminded him of of a time when he was younger. He and a group of orphans--each not a pound over fifty--worked together to push one of the larger boulders off a cliff.
The sound stopped, and the night seemed to resonate in its absence. Then the sound started again and, like the previous one, it ended shortly afterwards. This repeated four more times before he felt the air suddenly... vibrate. It was the only word that he could think to describe it. Deep in his chest he felt a tightening pressure, and it wasn't due to his growing fear. Celia's hand grabbed a fist full of his tunic and she dragged him up a solid step and into something comfortably cool.
His body tensed as vertigo hit him with the subtlety of a thunder clap. Two steps later, the back of his eyelids started to get burned by a piercing yellow orb.
It was only when he blinked a few times before he realized the yellow orb was the sun.
Celia released him and immediately moved to the left where she slapped a stone tablet.
"I don't—" he looked behind him in time to see a sheet of dark blue liquid solidify into a stone wall. "—understand."