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As a prince, Saph’s knowledge of war had always been second-hand. He’d never expected to be directly affected by the conflict.
Unfortunately, he was now very directly affected.
The trip to the north of the kingdom to visit his uncle was supposed to be safe. There had been no reports of enemy soldiers in the area.
No one had accounted for the kingdom’s own soldiers.
Saph ducked under a low-hanging branch, nearly tripped over a root, swore and continued on, glad that he’d worn sturdy boots today. He’d planned on riding for part of the trip instead of staying in the carriage. The horses were now in the custody of the soldiers who’d ambushed the group, and Saph’s guards were dead, their belongings being pillaged by the thieves.
Deserters. Cowards.
A bitter taste curdled in Saph’s mouth as he ran through the trees, glad for the cover provided by the thick canopy. His only hope was that none of the deserters would think to come after him, that he wouldn’t be worth the trouble.
Saph had escaped only because his guards had confronted the deserters and fought to give him the opportunity to run. Saph did not intend to waste the time their lives had bought him.
But where could Saph go? He had only a vague notion of where they were on the road, and there was nothing but forest for miles. There was supposed to be a village somewhere along the road, but Saph had no idea how far away it was, or if it was even safe to follow the road.
Another root caught him by surprise, and Saph tumbled to the forest floor, pain shooting up his leg as his ankle twisted. Saph cursed again, tears stinging his eyes. Gingerly, he began to slide off his boot, aware that his ankle would probably begin to swell soon, making that boot very, very uncomfortable.
After determining that his ankle wasn’t broken, Saph used the tree trunk next to him to get to his feet. Biting his lip against the pain, he attempted to put weight on the sore ankle, only for the pain to flare up to an unbearable level. Saph slid back down to the ground, defeated.
When would help come? A search party would definitely be sent out for him, but that wouldn’t happen until he was missed at his destination. That could be a day or more away. Saph had no food or water with him, and no weapons. Not even a knife. His clothes were at least warm, but that was all he could be thankful for.
Minutes passed as Saph rested against the tree trunk, hoping that he’d be able to walk soon. If he could find a river or stream, he could follow it to civilisation.
As Saph closed his eyes, the nauseating scent of blood filled his nostrils. The agonised cries of his guards battered his eardrums. Saph had known several of them for days, and several of them for years. Now, they were dead, killed by their own countrymen.
If those deserters were capable of killing their own fellow countrymen, then why did they run from the war? If they could kill their own countrymen, then enemy soldiers ought to be no problem for them.
As time passed, the forest grew darker around Saph. He heard snuffling and rustling somewhere nearby, and hoped that no predators were stalking him.
Just as Saph was about to test his ankle again, he heard a sound that did not belong in a forest. The clinking of metal. Then… voices.
Saph remained silent, his heart hammering in his chest. Was it the deserters, looking for their escaped prey? Had they figured out that he was not just a travelling noble, but a prince? Were they planning on ransoming him?
The voices drew closer. They were male and accented. Saph determined that they weren’t the deserters, but that was not reassuring.
The voices were unmistakably Altairian. These men were the enemy. What were they doing in the middle of nowhere? Were they spies?
Before Saph could decide whether he was desperate enough to risk drawing their attention, the choice was taken out of his hands. A dark shape stepped into view through the trees, boots crunching on the debris littering the forest floor. Then another shape. Then another.
The first noticed Saph and stopped, holding out a hand to halt his companions. He was wearing light armour and carried a sheathed sword. His hand drifted to its hilt as he stared at Saph with leaf-green eyes, though he did not draw the sword yet.
“What?” one of his companions asked, staring at Saph in surprise.
Saph drew himself into a ball, hoping that he wouldn’t be seen as a threat.
The first man approached him, then knelt in front of him, close enough to get a good look at Saph, but not close enough to touch. His companions followed close behind, their own hands on their weapons and their expressions cold.
“What are you doing out here?” the kneeling man asked, his tone gentle.
“We should kill him,” one of his companions muttered, earning himself a stern look from the first.
“Look at how he’s dressed. He’s some fancy noble’s brat,” the other said. “Why is he all the way out here, alone?”
“That’s why we should kill him. There’s probably soldiers around.”
Saph gave a bitter laugh. “There are,” he replied, his voice weak. “Feel free to go hunt them down. I don’t care if you kill them.” Once again, tears threatened to fall. Saph barely held them back.
One of the standing men laughed. “You want us to kill your own soldiers, Peloran?”
“Seems like they don’t have a problem killing their own,” Saph retorted. The tears finally came, hot and relentless. Saph pressed his face to his dirty sleeve, wishing that he could turn back time to this morning. Wishing that he’d never decided to take this trip.
“I would prefer to not cause needless bloodshed,” the kneeling man said. “That would be counter to our mission, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re too idealistic, Tera. There’s no way the Peloran king will accept your terms. I can’t believe you’re taking this risk.”
“If he executes me, then Father still has three other potential heirs,” the first man said, a wry smile forming on his face.
He received a rap on the head from one of his companions. “Don’t even joke about that. This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done by far.”
“Yet, if it works, it will end the war.”
Saph stared, thoroughly confused. Slowly, he began to compile the scraps of information. Tera. Some sort of secret, stupid mission involving the king…
Wasn’t the Crown Prince of Altair named Theresa?
“Are you… going to the capital?” Saph asked, stunned. “To see the king?”
“We are,” the first man said with a smile.
“I… I might be able to help you,” Saph offered tentatively. “I know the capital and the palace well.”
“Do you now?” The green-eyed man’s smile was amused and knowing. Did he suspect that Saph was a prince? Saph couldn’t understand how as his clothes, while fine, did not carry any sort of royal mark.
“Yes. I… I need to get back there, but I’m lost and I’ve hurt my ankle. The men I was travelling with were murdered by deserters.” Though the pain in Saph’s ankle had eased considerably during the conversation, he still didn’t think he’d make it far without aid.
Saph would be soon missed by his uncle but if he tried to press on to his intended destination, he’d lose his helpers, who wanted to go to the palace.
The green-eyed man shared a look with his companions before he made his decision. “I suppose we have nothing to lose by bringing you with us. You might be worth the trouble.”
Saph gave a weak smile in response. He definitely would be worth the trouble. With Saph to advocate for these Altairians, his father would at least grant them an audience, and then… who knew? Father was fed up with the war and might well be willing to negotiate for peace.
“Let’s get you on your feet,” the green-eyed man said. As he helped Saph stand, he said, “I’m Tera. These two are Kellan and Jonas. I hope you don’t mind sleeping rough.”
“As long as I sleep safe, I don’t care,” Saph said honestly.
As Saph limped along, supported by the green-eyed man, he wondered if he ought to head back to the ruined carriage and the dead guards… but what was the point? They were dead, and no one could help them now. The best thing Saph could do was to honour their sacrifice by ensuring that it wasn’t wasted.
And if this strange little encounter with the enemy led to peace between Altair and Pelor, then that sacrifice had bought something far more valuable than Saph’s life.