A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 09

"Oh fuck!" he said, laughing.

"You asshole!" she punched him again. "You absolute degenerate!" She lunged at him and pinned him by his collarbones flat on his back to the ground. "What the fuck did you make me say?" He just kept laughing, not defending himself from renewed punches; he raised the back of his right hand to his forehead and wore the smuggest, most self-satisfied grin on his stupid face. She leaned down to kiss it off his lips, and took a very long time to do it, breaking off and coming back for more, until their breathing levelled, their hearts slowed down, and finally she just lay still splayed on top of him, her head laid by his in the moss, their inner thighs a wet mess.

She rested her ear on his neck. She could hear his blood roll through his arteries, the air move through his windpipe.

If Paula had it her way, somebody would probably be slicing all of this open right about now.

What was going on in Behem at this moment? The thought of Paula's and Clement's humiliation, having lost both the prisoner and the princess, and with Oren there to witness it, put her in an even better mood, though she thought she had already maxed out.

She ruffled Aerin's hair and kissed him under the jaw. "Idiot," she murmured into his skin.

He lay still, her weight pushing him delightfully into the moss, her breasts resting on his chest and pressing against it softly with his every breath. He put his arms around her and looked idly at the endless summer sky overhead. He'd been right, he thought: the world isn't such a bad place after all.

*

They saw the cart from far away, lumbering slowly towards Behem in the afternoon sun. There was no point getting off the road now -- if they saw it, its driver saw them.

The driver was an old peasant with a white beard. They exchanged a short greeting and went their own ways. The peasant was looking at them curiously. They made an odd pair to find out here -- her especially, in her dirty white courtly dress -- and he would be sure to mention them if a pursuit found him on the way. But there was nothing to be done. If they stayed on the road, they would keep meeting people. If they stayed off, their progress would be too slow. And so they stayed on, only going cross-country to circle around the occasional village.

"They wouldn't still chase you out of Harmen, right?" Aerin asked. It was one of those things they should probably have talked over before, but what can you do.

"I'm not that important."

"What will they do to you if they catch us?"

"Executions of traitors can get pretty grim, though maybe I'd get a nicer one because I'm a girl. Drowning, maybe?"

"They really wouldn't forgive you? Even though you're a princess?"

She shook her head. The only thing that anyone in Harmen gave a shit about was honour, and she had dishonoured a whole load of people the night before. The fact that she had royal blood made it even worse, in fact. A shocking upset for Harmeni respectability. They'd want to make a good example out of her.

Late in the afternoon he climbed a solitary tree they came across on a hilltop.

"If you end up falling down and killing yourself," she shouted, head arched upwards, "I'm going to kick your corpse's ass until it fucking falls off!"

"I've been doing this all my life idiot, I'm not gonna fall!" he shouted back. He was thirty feet above ground and he judged this was about as high as he could go, the branches and the trunk starting to grow precariously lean. He looked west, to the road they had travelled.

The view was open for miles and miles. Grassy hills rolled like ocean under the mild sky, sometimes marked with a hamlet, a herd of sheep, or a grove. Far, far off, he could see a dark valley -- the woods where they had made their rest. He smiled at it.

But most importantly, the road was clear. He could make out some fellow travellers that they had passed earlier, but there was no sign of a pursuit. Somewhere over the horizon, where the sun was low, was Behem. He turned around. Somewhere over the other horizon, yet unseen, were the Blue Cliffs and the forest by the City of Ys.

"We're more than halfway there," he said, back on the ground. "We'll make it to the edge of the forest by sunset tomorrow."

"They've probably figured out we're on this road by now," she said.

They probably have. With no local witnesses to their presence on the road directly between Behem and Kontaria, they'd at least be sending a speculative pursuit this way.

He'd considered just hiding in one of the groves for a couple of days, but they were very low on food, and with all these locals that had seen them around they could expect the number of search parties to only increase with time. Their only real option was to keep pushing, and to beat them to the forest by Ys, where they would finally be safe.

At nightfall they stopped by a clump of trees where they wouldn't be noticed from the road. Starshine was dazzling and brilliant over them, and though the night got chilly, they did a very bad job of keeping their clothes on. Dawn found them already trotting eastward, towards the sun. As hours passed, the landscape changed around them, the grass now longer and tawny, and more and more granite rocks scattered among the hills.

Around noon, Aerin climbed another tree on another hilltop. There was nobody on the road -- there was no sign of any living creature around at all, except for a fairly large village by a lake somewhat off the road, and for the birds flying high in the hot air. In the north, far away, the mountains glistened, tops white even at this time of year. And then he looked east, and his heart beat faster. Some twenty miles ahead, the land broke off into a sudden horizon.

The Blue Cliffs. He'd seen them a few times, from below. A gigantic, vertical stone exposure running north to south for a great many miles, as if the whole continent was broken in half. Above them was this grassy hill land of Harmen. Below -- Ys, the borderlands, and Kontaria.

They were almost out of food, but it didn't matter now. The forest by Ys would sustain them with enough berries for the way. They pushed on and on, though their horses, after two days on the trot with too little rest, were noticeably slowing down. The road winded relentlessly up and down, over the crests of endless parallel hills, over the valleys between them where streams provided them and the horses with water. Around four hours after noon the wind picked up, rolling great tan waves over the grassland. Swallows circled and squeaked above them.

Two hours later still they reached one more hilltop, higher than any that preceded. And as the vista opened beyond it, Aerin reached out, squeezed Gabrielle's shoulder, and guffawed.

Some six miles ahead, over just a few more hills, the highland stopped and dropped a thousand feet in freefall. Unwilling to take the plunge, the road swerved to the left just before the verge, and in just a few more miles disappeared into a dense forest.

But he only glanced at those things. He immediately turned south, where beyond the cliffs the view stretched on forever and ever, maybe even to the sea. And there, beyond the open slanting plain of the borderland, was another forest, dark and indistinct in the haze at this distance, dotted all around with dim lakes.

Kontaria. Actually Kontatia.

It was a while before he moved again; he looked around, rode a short way to an old larch nearby, then dismounted.

"You just can't help climbing every tree you find, can you?" she said with a laugh. His mood, the view, and the early evening light worked on her too; she felt like she could fly.

"Last one. If they're not close behind us by now, they will never be."

Two hours, he thought, leaping up through the branches. Just two more hours and we've made it.

Gabrielle dismounted too, and stretched her arms above her head. All her muscles were hurting, but it was almost over. They were almost free. She looked to Aerin, climbing against the purplish sky.

He never reached the top of the tree. Just halfway through, he glanced westward, and stopped.

Some ten horsemen were on the road, maybe five miles away. They were riding hard and fast towards them. They must have gotten fresh horses only recently from that village by the lake. They knew what they were doing. They were racing against the sunset to get to the edge of the forest. Aerin gripped a branch and exhaled through his teeth, very slowly.

"What's going on?" Gabrielle asked.

"Get on the horse," he said, and started down.

She swore. He leapt down and climbed his horse at once.

"How close are they?" she asked. It didn't take much brainpower to guess what he saw.

"Very. Maybe ten of them. Hurry," he said, and prodded his horse onward.

She followed him, glancing back uncertainly. The forest was so close now. They couldn't be close enough, surely?

Aerin tried to get his horse to gallop, but it barely even trotted anymore. Gabrielle felt anxiety at first, then outright fear. They were within sight of safety. Can't all of Harmen just leave them the fuck alone? Will nothing drive them away?

Less than an hour later they scaled, with difficulty, the final hill before the cliffs. Just a short ride down a gentle slope ahead of them, the world was ending.

This is when she too saw them, on top of the hill with the tree. They must have seen them as well. They rushed towards them, fast.

She looked to the forest's edge and a grim rigidness took over her. Three more miles at least. Her horse was wheezing underneath her and was soaked with sweat. They weren't making it before the pursuit.

Aerin looked around with despair. There was nowhere to hide out here. There were only some sparse, thin trees, and knee-high dry grass.

"To the cliffs," he said. "Maybe there's some way down."

It took them twenty more minutes to get to the verge. There they jumped off their exhausted horses and looked down. Their pursuers were now hidden from their view, behind the crest of the last hill. The forest's wall was to their left, dark and inviting, and too far away.

There was a thousand feet worth of sheer vertical fall. There were ledges here and there, and occasionally an enterprising tree growing out of some nook, but there was no question about it -- nobody could get down through here alive.

Still Aerin paced along the edge, looking for something, anything. Four or five dry trees were growing by the precipice. There was a wide ledge not far from them, about four feet below the brink. He jumped to it, walked to its end, and looked down. There was another ledge below, but it was maybe six hundred feet down. He stared. There was a soft sound behind him as Gabrielle jumped down and walked over.

They said nothing, just looking down for a moment. This was the end of all ways.

She turned away. "Aerin, let's hide here," she said. Where their ledge projected out of the cliff there was a cavern, just about large enough for two people to crawl into. A large, hard-leafed shrub was growing by its side, and if they hacked it down and used it to cover the entrance, they might just hide there, unnoticed from the ledge—

But only by someone who wouldn't be looking for them. Their pursuers would drop to this ledge and check the bush first thing. This, too, was hopeless.

They climbed back up to the grass, and faced the setting sun. In some twenty minutes, the riders would appear over the top of the slope above them, and then, after maybe ten more minutes, they would be here.

She grabbed his hand.

"I'm sure it won't hurt, jumping from such height," she said.

He closed his eyes. "Gabrielle, maybe they'll forgive you. If your family talks to the King, or something..."

She hugged him. "There's no more life in Harmen for me than there is for you. I just want you to know that I don't regret anything," she said. He knew, he knew. He hugged her back. He wanted to cry. He looked around again. Nothing here to help them, just the long dry grass and the short dry trees. Purple sky, gentle breeze. Birds overhead, black silhouettes.

Black birds, dry branches.

A leap of memory, a sudden association. And immediately, in a flash, everything connected. The branches, the grass, the cord, the wine. It was enough. It was just enough. He had twenty minutes.

"Fuck!" He let go of her forcefully and ran for the horses. "Grab a knife and cut me as much grass as you can," he shouted over his shoulder.

She looked at him, not understanding. "Why? What are you gonna do?"

Hands trembling, he unstrapped the hatchet from his saddle. "Scarecrows," he said. "Scarecrows to make the jump for us!"

She paused. She got it. If they made decoys and dropped them down to that ledge far below... it was a really long distance away, hard to see, they wouldn't even have to be very good decoys...

She rushed to her horse and took out her knife and started slashing at the grass with mad determination. He reached the trees and chopped off some of the straighter branches. He sprinted back, took the leather cord, and with shaking fingers started tying the branches together. In his imagination he could hear hoofbeats from beyond the hill. They had maybe ten more minutes before the riders would reappear and see them.

He'd always liked to amuse himself by making the frames of his scarecrows realistic and humanlike, proper joints and proportions and all. He'd figured out all the right knots. Muscle memory now took over. He was ready in no time, two skeletal bases for their would-be saviours at his feet.

She brought him whole bunches of hay. They tied them around the frames, giving bulk. He took the wineskins and fastened them where the scarecrows' heads would be. Time was running out at an alarming rate.

They stripped to their underwear and put their clothes on the decoys. She had to give it to him -- they were well proportioned and sturdy, impressively so for such quick work. From a long way out, they might just do the trick. But then she realized a problem. His vest had a hood; her dress had none.

"Cut off my hair," she said, handing him the knife.

"What?"

"You gotta make the head look real!" She kneeled, then gripped and pulled the locks up from her neck, giving him a better access.

He was glad he had no time for regret as the blade cut away. He still felt a pang of heartache when he ended up with a hand full of golden strands, which he then tied tight together and then to the wineskin. Up close, the Gabrielle scarecrow looked absolutely ridiculous, a tail of human hair sprouting out of a leather bag, a courtly dress filled with hay. The Aerin scarecrow at least had baggy clothes to hide its own absurdity.

She jumped to the ledge and chopped down the bush by the cavern. The leftover stump was bright and white, freshly injured wood; she grabbed some loose soil and rubbed it on, covering it as best as she could. Aerin took the knife and one last fast look around, checking if they left nothing behind to hint at what they've done.

"Thanks, you did great," he said to the horses. Then he grabbed the decoys and jumped down to the ledge next to Gabrielle, crouching down. From their position, they could keep their eyes just at the level of the cliff's edge, observing the hill but themselves hidden, by the cliff and by the grass.

"When they appear over the hill," he said, handing to her the Gabrielle scarecrow, "we'll let them just catch a glimpse of the decoys for like two seconds, then bring them down. Enough time to notice, not enough to think. Then we crawl over to the brink and aim them at that ledge far below. If we stay low they won't see that." He uncertainly judged the distances. "I think."

She nodded and they lifted up the decoys, two figures at the verge. They were both breathing quickly, and quaking with sheer adrenalin. She glanced at the knife that he had dropped beside him, its sharp point gleaming at her. She guessed at why he brought it here, that one thing.

"If this doesn't work, you'll kill me before going yourself, right?" she asked.

He gripped the scarecrow harder, and just looked at her. He couldn't answer that. "You still look cute," he managed.

"What?"

"With short hair. I'll cut them a bit more evenly if we live, okay?"

She laughed.

"Gods, it would be so much easier if you were just born a Harmeni noble. We would have met on my vast veranda, and we'd have lived carefree."

"But then we'd never have had this idiotic adventure. Would anything compare?"

Birds cried, darting around them.

"Who knows. Doesn't matter now. We both go down together."

Over the hill, the riders appeared.

The view opened wide before them, a slope leading down to the far-off verge, and on the verge two figures standing, and a moment later, leaning down and falling.

Aerin and Gabrielle heard their shouts when, with a flutter, off the scarecrows went.

The wineskins gave them weight and stability; they fell headfirst for several long seconds, in good straight lines, and then hit the ledge with a heavy splash.

The impact broke their frames and dry grass flew everywhere, but the clothes and the cords kept the scarecrows intact. There they lay, tiny from so far away, two shattered figures side by side. Around them, splatters of wine were blood-dark and gruesomely picturesque in the dusk, red stains on grey rock.

They scrambled for the cavern. Holding on to each other, lying on their sides, they could fit in with a little room to spare. She pulled in the bush and wedged its stem between two stones. They could now watch the ledge from behind dense leaves, hidden in shadow. There was nothing more to be done.

She turned her back to the ledge, facing him.

"I don't want to watch," she said. He put the knife, the final resort, on the ground next to them, and listened. If they were going to be found, they had about ten minutes of freedom, ten minutes of life left.

They were lying next to each other, almost naked.

She put her hand flat on his chest, over his beating heart. He took her head in his hands, and she smiled.

"I'm so glad I've met you," she said. "I was afraid for a while that there are no people like you."

"What, scarecrow artisans?"

She laughed, and leaned closer to him. "There's just no cruelty in you, is there? You're just good intentions, lame jokes, and a cute smile."

"Huh." He traced her eyebrow with his thumb. "We... kind of get each other, don't we?"

"Hm."

"Though my jokes are not lame. And also, shit, they really got you to be sort of jaded, didn't they?"

"I was just afraid. For a while. S'all." She paused, imagining she's heard distant hoofbeats; but the only beat she sensed was his heart under her hand. She shook her head, suddenly resolved.

"Hey, Aerin."

"What?"

"If we only have minutes of life left, let's not spend this time in fear of them. Let's make the most of it." Her hand glided over his body and reached unopposed into his underwear, resting on his cock. "You think we can?"

He looked at her, and some inner warmth flowed through him, and unfolded on his face a broad grin. There was really no stopping this girl from being herself. Under her fingers, he swelled eagerly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we can."

There was barely space for anything. With a lot of bending and twisting they rid themselves of what little clothing they had left, and discarded it somewhere at their feet. A thin layer of loose soil protected bare skin from bare rock; still, as he rolled over astride her, a lot of scuttling and adjusting had to take place before they found a position that was anywhere near comfortable. He put his hand under her head, strands of her hair getting wedged between his fingers, hair now not much longer than his own. He smiled down at her.