Through the broken trees

The cart creaked and rattled as it rolled across the ground out of the yard, the sound of iron-coated wheels scraping the stones embedded in the dirt. Ren sat at the edge of the waggon’s side, looking out a small hole designed to be a window, his hand fidgeting with a loose nail. It wasn’t long until the city was behind them and the towers faded as they went over a dirt- and grass-covered hill, the only thing remaining in view a large black wall. The prisoner was slumped against the iron bars in the back, his wrists bound and shackles scraping whenever the cart hit a bump or he adjusted to compensate for the uncomfortable surroundings. Long hair covered the majority of his face, but his pale, worn skin was visible in patches. It made Ren uncomfortable the more he looked at him, and a wave of guilt came over him. He hadn’t said even one word since they left. The two escorts sat close to the cage on opposite sides of the carriage; the woman in white was sitting closest to Miyako and Ren, while the guard was with the other two on the opposite side.

The group was quiet for the first hour or so. The only noises the group could hear were the sound of terrain being flattened and the occasional grunt from the horses' mouths. Hibiki kept flicking his eyes back at the prisoner, curiosity taking hold. Alice couldn't bring herself to look at him yet; the fear was still very much clouding her mind. Her hands were folded in her lap as though she was readying for something to happen. Miyako wouldn't stop playing with her knife in its sheath as the journey carried on. Ren’s mind wouldn’t stop playing the events of the past few days over and over, thinking about the orchard, the inn, and the soldier’s stare.

He hadn’t let go of the idea that at any moment someone might come after them, and it made the anxiety so much worse. The first to break the silence was the woman. She sat with a bundle of papers tied in string on her lap. She reached over gently and tapped Alice on the leg kindly; her voice was incredibly soft and oddly methodical when she spoke. “Tell me, girl. You can use magic, can’t you? In fact, you all can, yes?” “It’s rare to see a whole group of the magical art users.” She smiled gently as she asked to show there was no malice. The guard sitting across from her snored loudly as if indicating it was fine to speak. Ren’s heart skipped as he answered on Alice’s behalf; she was clearly surprised by the question too. “What makes you say that?” She smiled faintly, though there was less warmth in this smile. “Well, I’m a little special, you see, and I can see the threads a lot easier than most, and also because you still look at your hands as though they might burn.” She gave a light-hearted chuckle to put them at ease. Alice’s head snapped up, staring at her with wide eyes. Hibiki scoffed at the woman. “We don’t know anything about magic or threads. It just… happens.”

The woman shook her head. “Well, that explains a lot; the threads around you lot look strange, almost like they’re torn and attached to each other in weird places. Besides, it would take a lot of practice to have the signs that you have.” She looked at them sceptically. Miyako snapped at her, “We’ve told you we don’t know; it just happens. If you know anything that can help, then tell us; otherwise, forget it.” The woman’s smile faltered. “It’s just strange, like it’s something else.

Something that shouldn’t be.” The man driving the cart barked a laugh without looking back. “Doesn’t matter what it is, give em a break. If it keeps them alive, it’s more use than half the mercs that sign their names for them scraps on the board.” The road bent, and the environment resembled a woodland, with wide dirt stretches opening up. The prisoner stirred for the first time in a while, shifting his weight to get comfortable. The chains around him scraped against the solid wood. The guard had a stretch as he woke up from his brief respite, sleepily admonishing the source of the noise. “Don’t waste your strength, prisoner. You’ll need it where you’re going.”

Hibiki frowned at the scene. “What’s he even in for? Doesn’t look like much of a threat to me; he hasn’t resisted once.” His reply was curt, finally looking down at the prisoner. “It’s simple. He refused the tithe. He kept his farm apart from the kingdom, didn’t record his goods, and didn’t pay his share. He sealed himself off from his family and lived outside the law. When the soldiers came to take him, he fought back.” Alice’s let out a small gasp. “That’s it? Just… not paying a tax?” His face stiffened. “He chose to live apart from the crown. That’s treason, whether you call it taxes or something else. He had a duty to the king. He spat on it.” The prisoner raised his head then, just a fraction. His hair was parted enough to show one eye, dull but sharp in its hate; luckily the guard hadn't noticed the malice in his eyes.

Hibiki muttered, his voice low. “That’s insane. You kill his family for that? I feel sorry for him.” The guard’s head snapped around at Hibiki’s words, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Watch your mouth, boy. Pity a criminal and you may as well share his chains.” His voice was low, but the threat in it was clear enough. Hibiki looked away and kicked his heel against the floor. The cart carried on; the road narrowed once more. The woman in white cleared her throat softly, as if to smooth over the tension. “It’s not uncommon for those who resist to lose everything. Families suffer when one man thinks himself above the law. The crown cannot be ignored.” She said it with such cold bluntness that Alice flinched. Her hands curled tight in her lap.

The day dragged on. Shadows stretched as the sun drifted across the sky, clouds hidden behind the large trees. The prisoner shifted again, the rattle of chains breaking the silence once more. The horses suddenly slowed, making panicked noises, and the guard at the reins cursed at them. The road ahead bent sharply, narrowing to a bottleneck between several rocks and trees. It was the perfect place for an ambush.

The silence of anticipation was cut when the driver let out a grunt, his body jerking as an arrow struck his chest. Blood sprayed his tunic, and he toppled from the seat, the reins slipping through his fingers. The horses screamed and reared, the cart swaying hard to the side. The guard inside the cart cursed, jumping out the back of the cart to get a better look at the situation.

Figures burst from the treeline—ragged men with scarves over their faces and blades and spears in hand, about 7 or 8 in total. A voice roared out from the distance. “Take the cart! Don’t let them scatter!” The guard growled at the four. “Get out here and do your job!” Ren’s heart beat so loud he thought it would break every one of his ribs. He drew his knife and held it in front of himself with shaking hands. Hibiki was already on his feet; leaping down from the waggon with a wild shout, he ran at a bandit that the guard was dealing with. Staying low and going as fast as he could, he ran shoulder first into him, knocking him to the ground; this gave the guard a chance to deal the finishing blow.

Miyako moved differently, calm and precise; she stepped down and moved at a pace only just faster than walking towards one of the men. She ducked under a strike with surprising ease, the blade flashing as she drove her knife into the man's chest and pulled it out moments later. Blood sprayed, the man gasping as he fell. She didn’t stop to look at him—her eyes were already hunting the next. Alice froze, the panic setting in as a bandit lunged for her; she froze but the bandit went stiff and ropes of blinding light wrapped around him.

Tracing the light, Alice saw the white-robed woman point at her prey with the rope emanating from her hand. With the man frozen, the club in Alice’s hand swung out on instinct, cracking against the man’s jaw with a disgusting crunch. He dropped like a sack, but she kept swinging, shrieking with every blow until the woman grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. “Stop, stop, it’s okay.” She hugged Alice as tears streamed down her face.

Ren found himself face to face with another. His knife caught the man’s wrist, making him drop his weapon. Rens breath was ragged; all he wanted right now was that thing to come again, the blackness, the power. But nothing answered. In his lack of awareness, the bandit leapt at him, pushing him to the ground. They struggled for some time on the floor until Hibiki ran over and kicked the man straight in the face, knocking him back. Not missing his chance, his fear and rage taking over, Ren jumped on the man and raised his fist and with a sickening crunch, his hand hit his face with so much force it was as if his hand was made of ridiculously heavy steel. He was gone. The guard fought like a beast, his sword thick with blood. “Keep going, there’s only a few left!” he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The bandits faltered; they had lost over half at this point and the leader spat, rage flashing in his eyes. “Not worth it. Pull back!” He slashed the air with his hand, and the survivors retreated back into the trees. The only sounds left were the wheeze of the horses and the ragged breaths of the group. The guard wiped his blade clean on one of the fallen men’s cloaks, his chest heaving. He spat into the dirt, then went to check the driver, crouching beside the body.

After a long moment he shook his head solemnly. “He’s gone. Bastards knew exactly where to strike.” His voice cracked, but only slightly. He closed the man’s eyes. then turned back toward the cart. “I’ll drive the rest of the way. You—” his finger jabbed at Ren, Hibiki, Miyako, and Alice, “—watch the sides and keep your ears open. They’ll circle back if they think we’re weak.” The white-robed woman rose silently, brushing the dust from her clothes, and checked on Alice, who was still trembling but standing. “Breathe,” she whispered, steady and calm, guiding her back toward the cart. Alice nodded weakly.

The guard pulled himself up onto the driver’s bench, gripping the reins with a stiff hand. He muttered to himself, then louder: “Someone’s going to have to learn how to drive. If I fall, the cart doesn’t stop, not with him in the back.” He jerked his thumb towards the inside of the cart. The man hadn’t moved during the fight; his head hung forward, hair veiling his face. Only the rattle of his chains and creaking of the wood proved he was alive.

The rest of the day dragged on slowly. The cart rattled across uneven ground, deeper into the forested area, before the trees finally thinned and opened into a flatter area. As it got later, faint lights appeared ahead – a number of lanterns. The guard slowed the horses, muttering, “East Village. Border town. You guys will stop here for the night. Food and beds are covered. The mine is on the edge of town so I can drop this one off; I’ll meet you at the inn.” The cart rolled into the village square, the wheels crunching over packed dirt and loose stones. The air smelt of smoke and damp earth, lanterns swaying gently on wooden posts. A few villagers turned their heads as the carriage rattled past, but their eyes didn’t linger for long.

Everyone here looked tired, worn down by work and silence. The guard tugged the reins and brought the horses to a stop outside a squat stone inn with a cracked sign swinging above the door. He climbed down from the bench with a grunt, rubbing his arm as though the fight had left a deeper ache than he wanted to admit. “Go on in,” he told the four. “Show the keeper this.” He held up a stamped slip of parchment, then handed it over to Ren. “Your meals and beds are already paid. Don’t cause trouble. I’ll take him to the mine holding pens and be back before long.

Hibiki peered at the prisoner as the man was dragged out of the cart by two soldiers who had been waiting at the square. His chains clinked as he stumbled forward, his face still shadowed by his hair. Alice stared at the man as he was grabbed by the men. Miyako put a hand on Alice’s shoulder, firmly. “Not here,” she muttered. Alice gave a faint nod, though her eyes lingered on the road long after the prisoner was gone. The four entered the inn. The warmth and noise inside hit them all at once: a low fire smouldering in the hearth, the smell of stale ale and bread, and the murmur of villagers speaking in hushed tones over their drinks. The innkeeper barely raised his head when Ren showed him the paper. He waved them toward a back table, already fetching bowls of stew and loaves of bread. They sat, shoulders with poor posture and aching limbs. Hibiki tore into the food immediately, complaining once more through a mouthful, “Well… it’s better than porridge.” Ren barely tasted his first spoonful, his thoughts still thinking back to the ambush, to the prisoner, to the way that man's skull had been after his punch. Alice didn’t touch her bowl. Her gaze stayed on the door, quiet, like she was waiting for someone to walk back through it. They finished their food and sat in silence thinking about the day. All they could do was wait for their escorts.