Chapter 8: The Witch's Flight

My brother. The family golden child. Skilled with horse, lance, and social etiquette. Officer in charge of the vaunted Mansee Lancers. And currently calling me out as a witch on a crowded public street, in a town that produces most of the military’s arms.

There are worse things that could have happened, to be sure. I’m awake, on my feet, and have my pack full of gear. I suppose I’m armed as well, but having zero practical experience with wielding arms that fact means nothing. If only I had thought to talk Clara into showing me a shop selling one of those firelocks, the kind that use fools gold for ignition and can be kept loaded.

Well, can’t keep him waiting. I took another shot of liquor to steel my courage, than turned to face him.

“J-j-Jon…” At least I managed to face him. That had to count for something.

“Just as I thought. I knew you looked different at that ball. I had assumed you had talked one of the servants into gussying you up, but no amount of powders could cause that kind of change. So the witch has a bit of vanity after all?” He sneered. Even that ugly expression managed to look good on him.

“V-vanity?”

“A wanted criminal, blatantly walking about with her face out for all to see. Her face she used cursed magic to create, evidence of her crime. If that isn’t vanity, what is?” I froze. The only thing keeping me alive was his urge to gloat but still, I froze. He could shoulder his lance and charge in a moment.

“It. It. It. It was warm with my h-hood up, so…” Why was I making excuses for that? Of all the things he accused me of. It’s not like I purposefully made my face look healthy.

People were starting to stare. It was a feeling I was all too familiar with. And they had heard what he had accused me of. The fact that I did not even deny it made things worse. It’s odd that I didn’t think to deny it. Or maybe not so odd. I wasn’t used to arguing.

“So, do you have any excuse for desecrating our family’s name?” He asked. I felt my vision grow dim at the edges as more of the crowd gathered around, staring. There were murmurs, some of which said “Witch.” My breathing grew rapid, before I managed to calm it down. Don’t focus on the crowd, just focus on breathing.

“It just sort of happened.”

“Likely enough story, witch.” My brother said. Why couldn’t he just let me go? I was just trying to leave the Empire.

The pressure began to build up. My brother’s sneer, the crowd whispering, looking at me in fear. I tried to block it all out, but it grew and grew.

My brother’s sneer was wiped away, turning to fear. He lowered his lance, but before he even got it off the stirrup, I felt an explosion. Energy rushed out of me, manifesting as a gust of wind that knocked him out of his saddle. He fell to the ground, clanging from his cuirass meeting that of his lance clattering to the cobbles. I could only watch, until I felt someone grab my arm.

“Elizabeth, we have to get out of here!” Clara yelled, before dragging me, running, down the street, where the crowd who had witnessed my magic parted like minnows before a pike. Luckily we managed to get lost in the crowd, but now my brother knew not only my new appearance, but that of...my accomplice? I began to try and ask Clara what she was doing, but she merely scolded me.

“Not now, lets find a place to keep our heads down.”

At the end of the street, we found an ancient storehouse, abandoned, three doors in the front facing the river and a facade of pockmarked brick. It was close to the bridge, but if we tried to flee across as we were now we risked being run down and speared by my brother’s lancers. We slouched against the inside wall, catching our breath. We needed a plan.

“Why did you help me?” I asked. We needed a plan, but figuring out why she would help someone like me took precedence.

“Why would I not?” Clara asked in return.

“Because, you heard him. I’m…”

“A witch? I never would have guessed. I was absolutely fooled when you ‘threw that guy into the wall’ in that alleyway. To say nothing of the wanted posters with your description and face posted all over.” She must be more observant than I assumed, at least concerning my face. I looked completely different from that engraving. Although, my brother did recognize me as well...

“Then why did you help me, if you knew?”

“Because I think the Empire’s law against magic is stupid, and I’m not an imperial citizen anyways. Why would I turn a little trembling thing like you to the authorities?” I had no answer. “Little trembling thing” she said? I would have been more offended if she hadn’t been right. I was trembling.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Well, not any more of a problem than I expected. It’s not the first time I’ve had something like this happen.

“Wha-”

“Now, we need to some up with a plan. We need to flee north for now.”

“North?”

“Imperial control is much looser to the north. We flee, heading north for a ways before turning west and cutting across the mountains to Alliand. I can guarantee they’ll give us shelter. The hard part of fleeing should be the first several hundred yards. And, well, I don’t know if you can run that far, especially as fast as we’ll need to go.” She thought for a moment. “Can you ride?”

“A bit. I had to take lessons for it for a bit.”

“Good. That’s a start. We’ll need to get horses anyways for the route we’re taking. Shame we had to get caught, the canal boat was so convenient.”

“But we don’t have horses.” We had full packs, sure, and good boots, but not horses.

“We don’t have horses yet.” She corrected me. “But your brother does, and I’m sure he could be persuaded to lend us some.”

“How?” I asked

“We’re near enough to the bridge. He should know that we’ll more likely flee north; the Empire is much more developed and loyal in the south. We just need to wait until he places some of his men… there.” She gestured around the corner where two lancers stood guarding the approach to the bridge.

“And how do we get them away from their horses?”

“Same way you got your brother away from his. I’ll distract them.” She rushed out the door.

“Help! I saw the witch!” She shouted as she waved at the troopers. They trotted over.
“You saw her? Where?” One of them asked. The other continued watching the approach to the bridge.

“About there.” She said, pointing down the street going up the hillside. I wasn’t sure, but I could swear she was pointing at the tavern we had gotten lunch at.

“I don’t see anyone-” As he followed her outstretched hand, she shouted.

“Now!” Then she jumped up, dragged him from his horse, and punched him in the face, twice. Having no other option, I ran out of my hiding place and hit the second horseman with a gust of wind. Clara gave the fallen horseman a strong kick in the face, then deftly mounted the first man’s horse.

“Come on!” I managed to get on my horse, and followed as Clara heeled her horse across the bridge, steel-clad hooves thumping against the wooden deck. I, somehow, managed to stay mounted, even with my pack wobbling and one hand occupied with my new spontoon. As we rode, I heard a loud crack sound out, and something whistling by my ear.

“Blast, they have firelocks.” But we continued, hearing a bugle call as we rode down the grade at the end of the bridge. I looked behind; several lancers were following behind, having hidden themselves behind the canal’s lock-house. If we didn’t do something, they would catch up and we’d be dead.

I thought, looking between the canal on one side and a sheer, craggy cliff-face on the other. There was no where to flee but forward. Until I remembered.

I pulled on the reins, bringing myself next to the cliff. Remembering what had been written in the grimoire, I concentrated. This wasn’t like the wind spell, merely moving air about. This was imposing on reality, creating something from nothing. Water. As the water formed along the cliff, in all the cracks and crevices, I dropped the temperature of it, and dug my heels into my horses side. I heard a crack, a clatter, then a rumble as the cliff-face collapsed, blocking my brother’s pursuit.

Clara and I rode a mile longer before turning off the main track and onto a small path leading up the mountain.