It occurred to me that if the Syldoon and Brunesmen were all cut down, I’d need to flee and try to find the remaining Syldoon back on the road. I looked away from the battle and was turning to check on the horses in the woods behind me when I saw something on the opposite end of the temple.
I feared more of the underpriest’s guards had arrived, but if it had been guards, surely they’d have been joining the battle. So I thought I must’ve seen some animal moving, or perhaps nothing at all, but then, at the base of the temple along the high stone platform, I saw it again. Something or someone was trying to look around the corner. I stepped closer, hiding behind the tree in front of me as best I could, and then saw the underpriest peer around again, trying to gauge if there were any threats nearby. Seeing nothing, he began to run towards the woods where Vendurro had originally ridden away with his horses. Then, perhaps remembering Vendurro, he stopped, likely realizing that if anyone were there, they’d already be riding out to apprehend him. He looked over his shoulder a final time and then began climbing the hill as quickly as he could.
I looked back to the other end of the temple. The wild, broken melee was total chaos now, the victors still in grave doubt. Even if the Syldoon prevailed, no one could see the other side of the temple-they’d never know the underpriest was there to pursue him.
Even while I was running back to the horses, I cursed myself for a fool-the battle could easily turn against Braylar and his retinue, and if they were defeated, the only thing I would accomplish by wildly chasing down the underpriest would be to expose myself to the victorious party, who would be all too pleased to punish a prisoner for the losses they’d sustained. Still, I felt I had to try. Though I didn’t understand the impulse, there was some small part of me that wanted to impress men like Braylar and Gurdinn, and I cursed myself for allowing that minority to rule the majority of common sense.
Rather than waste more time trying to span the crossbow I held, I dropped it on the forested floor and ran back to a Syldoon horse, pulled a crossbow out of the leather case on its side and checked to make sure it was loaded. Seeing that it was, I ran around to my own horse and climbed the saddle as quickly as possible, which is to say, not exceptionally fast, given that I was trying to do so without accidentally shooting my horse in the back of the head. Kicking my heels into the horse’s flanks, we bolted down the small track Vendurro had emerged from earlier. Even on flat, even ground, I’m a suspect rider, but hurtling through the woods, up and down inclines, I was terrified, and it was all I could do not to fall from the saddle or get hung up on a branch. I felt them grabbing at me from all sides, and laid myself low behind the horse’s neck, and closed my eyes so they wouldn’t get scratched out. I had no idea how I might find the priest in the dense foliage, or what I would do even if I did, but I had begun the chase, and I would be thrice-cursed if I didn’t at least complete the attempt.
We emerged in a small glade, and I looked everywhere, wondering where I was or what direction to go, but the horse had no such problems, or didn’t trust its rider to make a decision, good or no. We trotted through some tall grass and up a small embankment. I saw no break in the woods above us, but I told myself the horse probably knew what it was doing, so urged it forward and ducked my head down again as he approached the brush and trees. The horse was breathing heavily with the effort, but it seemed strong and willing.
We trotted through a small space between two trees, winding between the twisted trunks and into thicker foliage, and then found what passed for a path. It was overgrown, and we couldn’t move with much speed at first, but the brush thinned slightly, and seeing the space open up, I again prompted the horse forward. It seemed glad to run once more, even if it was only an exaggerated canter.
I get lost in city streets even with beggars trading directions for small coin, so I had little sense of how far we’d come, or where we might be in relation to the temple or our original hiding place. We began moving downhill again, and the horse picked up speed, branches flying by in brown blur.
The spaces between trees grew, and as the ground leveled, I pulled on the reins. Unused to its awkward rider, it took several tugs before the horse obeyed, but we finally came to a stop. I looked everywhere and tried to listen, although my own heavy breathing distorted everything I might have heard. Trees and more trees, and I was about to urge the horse forward again, sure I’d accomplished nothing except getting lost in the woods. But then, perhaps one hundred paces away, there was a brief flash of color. Plum. The underpriest’s small cape. It disappeared as quickly as I’d seen it, but I kicked my heels into the horse’s flanks and we were off again, hooves crunching pine cones.
As we closed the gap and dodged between trees, I saw the underpriest in flight ahead of us. I clicked as loudly as possible, and when that had no noticeable effect, I put my heels to my horse again, and nearly dropped the crossbow as we suddenly picked up more speed. The horse navigated as best it could, but it wasn’t concerned about the branches that flew above its head, and one low-hanging pine branch struck me so hard in the face and chest I was sure I would be pulled from the saddle or discharge my weapon. There was sap on my forehead and no doubt twenty scratches, but otherwise I was unharmed.
I looked around, my face as close to the back of my horse’s neck as possible, wondering if I’d overridden the mark and passed the underpriest hiding in the brush, but the purple gave him away again as he darted from behind a tree when he heard my approach.
I yelled at him to stop, but he hiked up his tunic with both arms and ran as fast as he could. I gave chase, eyes so fixed on my fleeing quarry that I didn’t notice we were approaching the edge of the woods again. I burst through some bushes and found myself at the top of a hill. Shading my eyes with one hand and blinking, I saw the figure of the priest further down. He was trying to make his way without losing his footing, but once he glanced over his shoulder and spotted me, he hurtled down as quickly as he could.
My horse charged forward without any extra encouragement, no doubt happy to have left the labyrinth of trees and bushes behind us. The hill wasn’t as steep on this side of the valley, but I’d never ridden down a hill before, so it might as well have been a sheer cliff. The underpriest tripped and fell, rolling over and over, tunic flapping wildly about his legs and arms.
Somehow, we stayed upright and came to a stop at the bottom near the dizzy and bruised underpriest. He lay on his side in some tall grass, panting, eyes closed, knees tucked up halfway to his chest. I tugged at the reins and spun around to face him, the crossbow nearly slipping out of my right hand until I let go of the reins and steadied it with my left. While the underpriest surely knew I was there, he didn’t open his eyes to look at me. I glanced around. We were alone.
I tried to get my breathing under control, but my lungs seemed determined to betray my fear and exhilaration. I didn’t trust myself to speak, but even if I had, now that I actually had the underpriest prone and defenseless in front of me, I realized I had no idea what to do. If I said too much, I was sure to reveal that I wasn’t a soldier or even a common tavern brawler. And if that happened, I didn’t know how the underpriest would respond. He was unarmed, and I had a crossbow pointed down at him, so that was in my favor, but once he opened his eyes and steadied himself, if he sensed that I wasn’t a bloodspiller by trade, he could easily run again, or possibly even try to overwhelm or disarm me. And I wasn’t sure I could squeeze the long trigger if he did. When I’d done so in the wagon with Braylar, that was facing an armed soldier with the intent to dismember me, and even there, I’d missed badly from five feet away.