A trickle of blood oozed down the cold steel of the sword. Drops splattered onto dry leaves, staining them red. Aldrich pressed his back against the old tree’s gnarled trunk, rough bark scratching his skin through his thin shirt. Thirty yards away lay a still-warm corpse, one arm stretched, reaching for a knife discarded in the leaves.
Eyes closed and barely breathing, he waited, sword in hand, listening. Silence reigned.
A faint breeze blew over him, carrying the scent of apple blossoms from a nearby orchard and the cool dampness of an approaching storm. Leaves rustled in the wind.
He ducked his head around the tree trunk, saw no one else had followed the man he’d killed and breathed a sigh of relief. Either stupid or over-confident, and he didn’t think they were stupid. He hurried off to where he had left his wife and child.
“We don’t have much time before they catch up,” Iselle said, voice calm despite the import of her words, “and my creature will not last much longer, especially if it starts to rain.”
A lock of graying hair slipped out from under her hood. Their daughter, Nerissa, a dark-haired girl of six years, clung to her arm, body slumped in weariness. Dust from the road covered their boots and their leggings, attesting to long days on foot.
Sighing wearily, Iselle peered down the road towards a stone bridge, which crossed a narrow river; the light had faded during their short break.
“Patience,” Aldrich said, taking a sniff of the wind coming from behind them, reading in it many things and knowing much would be resolved before the storm hit. Their day had started badly and gone to worse with a speed that had shocked him. It was my decision to spend a night at an inn out of the cold which has led to this, thought Aldrich with sorrow.
“There’s a storm coming, and yes, they are close.”
Releasing Nerissa, Iselle cupped her hands and whispered a few words that were lost in the rustle of wind through the trees. Moments later, from behind them a small dark shape emerged, flying erratically. Landing in her cupped palms, where its paper wings protruded over the sides, the dark green dragonfly looked creased and worn, as if it had flown long and hard without rest. Covering the paper carapace of the insect were tiny black runes scribed on the surface with ink.
Aldrich beckoned Iselle and Nerissa to follow him, and they obeyed, their limbs already stiffening in the cool night air after an exhausting day on foot. One of many since their horses had been stolen.
As they reached the center of the bridge, Aldrich made a decision. Placing one hand on the hilt of his sword he loosened it in the scabbard.
“Keep going into the forest, I’ll join you later.”
“What do you plan to do?” Iselle asked with dread in her voice.
A knot tightened in his gut. He feared she knew already and dreaded the necessity of what he planned. His training to become a blade master had been harsh and thorough, and he had never doubted his abilities, but he had often wondered how he would fare if facing impossible odds.
“They’re too close. We cannot allow them to catch us and take Nerissa. You know I have to do this; it’s more important than they know. Try to make it through the forest. You should be able to avoid any search with your crafting.”
“No! We should stay together. My crafting can keep them at a distance, and we can lose them in the forest.”
Aldrich shook his head. He knew it was time to make a stand. Delaying their pursuers would give them much needed relief, and at least he would be doing something other than running. For a while at least, the hunted would strike back.
He pushed Iselle and Nerissa ahead of him. “Go now! I can hold them for a time, perhaps kill them all, but you need to hurry.”
Tears welled in Iselle’s eyes. She wiped at them with the back of her hand.
“Don’t you…” she croaked, breath coming in harsh gasps. “Come back to me… to us.”
“I will. I promise.” He squeezed them both in a hug and kissed them on the cheek.
Iselle took Nerissa by the hand. “May the ancestors be with you,” she said fearfully.
“And you. Go quickly now.”
He watched them cross the bridge, moving as fast as their exhausted bodies would allow, hastening along the road toward the forest. As they reached the trees, Iselle paused and glanced back. She