Chapter 209 Cryer
ETAN
As they reached the front of the line into the city and nudged the horses under the Gateway arch through the wall, Etan's nerves spiked. There was little room to move here, the arch only big enough for three or four horses across—and two lines of guards watching the people file through, stopping merchants to check trade items, and no doubt watching for fugitives as well.
They had all dressed in their plainest clothes that day, and although they would be recognized as those of noble birth, Etan prayed their gear was just dirty enough to imply noble families with little money.
The guards sitting on horses were sharp-eyed and scanning the crowds, while those on their feet kept hold of weapons and questioned any the others called answer for their travels.
Beyond the merchants—who were no doubt searched for illegal goods, or trade that might compete with Anvor's jewel trade—Etan hadn't been able to pick any rhyme or reason for who the guards selected to question.
And without a clue for their criteria, he had no way to try to avoid it.
He sat his horse looking as much like a bored young lord as he knew how, slouching so as not to give away his training.
Borsche, though dressed normally now, pulled a set of juggling balls from somewhere in his cloth and began effortlessly tossing them into the air, winking and making jokes for the peasant women near them in the line.
He kept all the attention on himself to avoid eyes on Etan and Ayleth—for which Etan was extremely grateful.
For his part, Falek let his older face be seen, and rode close to Ayleth, marking her his ward.
Not a young couple in flight.
Definitely not young heirs fleeing parents or kingdoms.
As the horses ambled to the front and the guards' attention turned to their group, Etan was grateful to see the guard on the horse scan them and move on, his sharp eyes never fixing on them.
One of the guards on foot, put a spear in front of Borsche's horse, though.
"Can you do magic?" he asked, like a child after a toy. "Make one disappear."
"Sorry, I cannot reveal my secrets," Borsche said with a bow that managed to look grand despite being on horseback and in leathers.
"Don't hold up the line Argamos," the guard on horseback growled. "Move along please, everyone."
Etan nodded to the man as they passed, who barely lifted a hand to him as they started to move again.
The guard on foot complained to his brother, but dropped his spear so they could pass. The darkness of the gateway made Etan's skin itch. He fixed his eyes on the sunlight on the cobble street at the other side of the thick wall that climbed over their heads and prayed they wouldn't receive any more attention.
But before they'd gone three steps, voices rose from the crowds behind them, and the guards that lined the passage all tensed, holding up weapons to stop the line.
With gritted teeth, Etan pulled his horse up as the people in front of them were stopped
"A message! A message for the people of Anvor from the King and Queen of Zenithra!"
Those in the crowd fluttered and called to each other, the guard on horseback spurring his animal between people and placing himself behind them at the gateway entrance, right at its center.
"Halt! Show your credentials!"
The crowd had parted to give the Cryer passage, rather than be run over. They all watched as the rider, his horse blowing and dripping in sweat, finally pounded to a halt in front of the guard.
Etan glanced at Falek, who watched the scene with chin low and eyes bright and darting.
There was a short exchange between the guard and the Cryer, then the guard sat up and turned towards them. Etan's stomach dropped and trilled at the same time, but the guard's eyes passed over him to the guards behind him, holding the crowd from passing through.
"Let them pass, let the Cryer give the alert—he carries a message for the people, and for the King."
The guards moved out of the way then, and Etan sighed with relief as he and Borsche edged to one said, Falek and Ayleth to the other, to allow the Cryer to trot through.
The poor animal looked exhausted, but gallantly responded to the rider's thumping heels when they made it out to the streets.
"A message! A message from the King and Queen of Zenithra!" the man cried, his voice pealing over the houses and buildings, echoing down the streets of Anvor. "Heed the call to war! Heed the call to war! All able-bodied men are called to the Capital and will be paid handsomely for their service. It is to be war with Summitras! The Summitrans have kidnapped the Princess! War, brothers! Death to Summitras!"
Borsche's shoulders went tight, but he didn't turn to look at Etan, for which Etan was grateful.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
The Fortress City was huge with winding roads and narrow passages. The chances of them crossing it and making their way out of the City before nightfall was... virtually nil. But to stay here while the entire City was informed of their flight and called to war?!
Etan wanted to boot his mount into a gallop and let the people run out of the way, but instead he slouched like a tired traveler and dropped his chin, keeping only his eyes up, on Borsche's back. He could feel Ayleth behind him and didn't risk looking at her. Didn't want to draw anyone's attention to her.
When they finally reached a wider, open space—a market, Etan thought, judging by the number of animals tied, and peasants selling wares—he nudged his horse up next to Borsche's and leaned in as if they were only having a conversation about where to sleep for the night.
"Can we make it through the City before nightfall?" he whispered.
Borsche took a deep breath. "We're going to try. Follow me. And ignore the others. Falek and I have a plan. We'll meet them outside the gates."
Etan tensed. "We're splitting up?"
"Only for passage through the city," Borsche said, nodding and smiling at a pretty stallholder alongside the street. The woman grinned back at him and winked.
"But—" Etan began, beginning to turn in his saddle, but Borsche caught his arm and fixed him with a steely gaze. "You and I are travelling alone. We have nothing to do with a group of travellers hiding a Prince and Princess, you understand?" he muttered.
"But I vowed not to leave her!"
"You aren't. She's leaving you," Borsche said with a shrug.
Etan sucked in as he realized he could feel it—the way the bond drew away when there was distance between them. Borsche didn't let him turn, kept his grip on Etan's arm.
"We put this plan in place for exactly this situation, Etan. Falek knows where to meet us, and I assure you he is just as invested in seeing her get through here safely as you are. So... shut your mouth and start trotting. We need to move." Then Borsche clucked at his own mount whose head came up as the weary animal was pushed into a trot.
Cursing, Etan followed him, but he kept all his focus on the bond, sending love and reassurance to her, doing his best to mask the frustration he felt so she wouldn't perceive that.
This had better work, or he would be personally taking his blade to both men when it was done.
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