Author's Note: End of Chapter 2. 1,253 words.
The buildup of energy was
incredible. The trio were too close to the ground, but even they were
spun into the air and toppled head over heels onto the earth. The fleeing
guards, in comparison, were blasted away by the sheer force of the wind, which
sent even Carnell backwards onto the ground. Trees howled and whistled in
despair as water exploded from the fountain, spraying the statue and the ground
all about it. The flying guards flapped their wings in horror and
scattered about in a panic, some thrown towards the ground or higher into
the sky. A masterful chaos sounded its way through castle halls, catching
in surprise attendants in their daily business. Only the King, ever an
determined and heavy sleeper, did not open his eyes, although his wife did.
Everything next was a
blur in the eyes of Jonah. Something had quite clearly broken, but his
hearing and senses were so terrible he couldn't identify what had. He
groaned audibly as his vision whirled and he felt nauseous, tired, and weak,
unable to move off of the ground. Yorew stood up a little unsteadily, but
appeared mostly unharmed. The servant walked over to Eremia, bent over,
whispered, "I wouldn't," in her ears, and grabbed her with one arm
while he proceeded to pick up Jonah in the other. He then paced himself
rather hurriedly, trying to escape the oncoming chaos. Were the boy
capable of thinking, and didn't remain limp at Yorew's side, he would be
impressed as the man's strength, which he had only seen before when the King
and Queen tasked the tall old man to lift a few cabinets for them.
"How...how dare
you," spat a bruised and bloodied Carnell from his position by the
fountain, raising his head to reveal his red mouth. "You...must be
apprehended...but…I can’t…wh-why? Who are you? What children fight
like that? And what man can stop an army?"
"Ah, ever the
mystery," noted Yorew as he walked past the guard, winking at him. In the shadows, it was hard to see him
pale and stammer slightly as he looked at the wounded figure beside him.
His expression otherwise remained as fixated as ever as he strolled his way
past the fountain, grassy paths and shrubs, and made his way towards the east gate.
A rudimentary horse stable had been installed by the gardening, and the horses
whinnied and neighed in a panic as they kicked at the wooden walls and gates
that kept them in place, the torches that had lighted their roofed space blown
out and smoking. Looking about, the servant identified a white horse
in particular, and proceeded over to it.
Setting aside the
children by placing them in a sitting position against a wooden post, the man
placed his hands over the familiar white horse and rubbed its nose, relaxing
it. When it was complacent enough at seeing its old master, it calmly
allowed Yorew to snatch a saddle from another post and stick it upon the horse.
The
man had been doing this for years, particularly during the King's travels to
various parts of his kingdom to inspect the citizenry, and had been working on
training Eremia in the art of horseback riding. Thus, it didn't take him
much time to tether the saddle in place, upon which he open and closed the gate
gently and made his way towards the small stone tower by the massive entrance
door. The horse seemed to complain mildly as Yorew stopped paying it
attention, particularly by desisting to rub its nose, but the other horses were
now somewhat calmed by the man's presence, and so they patiently sat about
without much fear or tension, as though waiting for his return.
When attempting to push
aside the door indicated that it had been locked, he merely kicked it
open. The guard stationed there was unable to pick up his lance and take
a battle stance in time for Yorew to pull off his helmet and apologize,
whereupon a few quick punches were enough to dispatch him. The servant
had to push the man's limp figure aside to grasp the handles of the
wooden windlass attached to the wall, its connections extended from behind
the stone wall towards the system of counterweights and balances that allowed
the castle gate to be lifted. Uttering a small incantation, he rolled up
his sleeves, grasped the windlass, and pulled on it with all the strength that
he could muster. Grunting, he persisted, trying to work as quickly as
possible. It wasn't necessary that he be able to lift the entire
structure himself, and he doubted that he alone had the strength to raise those
heavy metal gates. All he needed, however, was to raise them just enough
to slip by with his horse and cargo, and hope that he could do so in time to
avoid the wave of guards that was likely heading to the area already, curious
and surprised about what had just happened.
After a minute's work,
familiar shouts and cries reached his ears, and the man desisted.
Confident that the gates had been risen enough, Yorew dashed out from the room
to find a swarm of torches approaching from the distance of the mansion's
entrances and the surrounding shrubbery. Loud shouts and the clunking of
metal now filled the air, yet they weren't close enough to the fountain, and
their armor restrained them. Meanwhile, the loud cries of the avian
guards indicated that they were preparing to swoop down on the injured and
hapless duo still sitting, slumped, by the stables. Rushing towards
them, Yorew saw the girl raise her hand at the oncoming gathering above her
head, faint torchlight highlighting her pale and terrified features. It
was clear what her intentions were - escape from this kidnapping.
Jonah grabbed her hand,
and another gust of wind exploded outwards, buffeting and knocking aside the
air squadron. Both passed out, far too exhausted to continue, as Yorew
reached for the gate, pulled it outwards, grabbed the children under each arm,
and sat them upon the now panicked and frenzied horse, who tried desperately to
escape from his position. The servant dodged flailing limbs and grabbed
the steed by its reins, sitting atop it and behind the children as he cracked the
leather reins like a whip. The stallion sprinted outwards as Yorew ducked
under the stable roof. Quickly reining in the horse, to its
consternation, it was quickly directed away from the soldiers, yanked in the
general direction of the castle gates. Thankfully, they were high enough
for the horse and its riders, in full gallop, to dash past.
They were fortunate
enough that the castle's drawbridge hadn't been raised, as the King hadn't felt
there was a substantial and immediate threat to force it to be used. As
such, the last glimpse of the trio was of them framed against moonlight
falling upon the water of the moat. The last sounds heard by
onlookers was the clacking of hooves against cobblestone as the horse galloped
its way onto the streets of the surrounding city, leaving a trail of awoken and
spooked citizens in the way.
All that the gradually
assembling crowd of horrified and flustered guards could see now, while picking
up injured comrades and trying to discern the identities of those involved.
Now there was a cry and a fervor over the whereabouts of the King, who was
now hurriedly preparing to enter the courtyard, and his family.
Too late.
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