Fugitives: Chapter 4

     I crept out of Jineya's and my cabin, with a small sack of food. I quickly walked toward the edge of the cabins, and toward the woods. I hesitated, looking back. The rows and rows of cabins were dark, and in the shadow of Master Taraketh's mansion. No. Not Master Taraketh. Just Taraketh now. I won't be answering to anymore masters from now on.

    I made my way into the woods. It was hard going, and would be better if I had a light, but I didn't dare light one.

    I must have walked for five hours. The sun was coming up when I reached a small town. Like Aizel had told me, I searched for a house with a quilt hanging out in front of it. There! At the edge of the woods, a large house had a quilt hanging out in front of it!

    I made my way over to the door, and knocked quickly and quietly on it. There was the sound of footsteps, and a woman opened the door.

    “Yes?” she inquired. My mouth felt dry. What if I had gotten this wrong? What if she was just some innocent person who would return me to Prince Esryn?

    She seemed to notice my wear. “Oh!” she gasped, and tugged me inside, closing the door. “Are you a slave?”

    I nodded. She quickly busied herself, sitting me down at the table, and putting a kettle on. “Where do you come from?”

    “Taraketh's,” I whispered. “He was going to sell me, and I don't like who was buying me. He scares me.” Tears started leaking down my cheeks.

    The woman gently wiped the tears away, and put some food in front of me, which I eagerly devoured. “I am Cadalyn,” she told me. “What's your name?”

    “Kya,” I said between chunks of bread.

    Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and I froze in fear. A boy about fourteen years, my age, came into the room. “Mother? Elijah says that he ripped a hole...” he trailed off, seeing me. “Who's this?”

    “This is Kya. She escaped from Taraketh's farm, on the other side of the woods.” Cadalyn poured some tea for me.

    The boy extended a hand. “I'm Duryis. Pleased to meet you, Kya.” I took it, feeling shocked, but warm. These were people that were treating me like a regular citizen, and not a slave, like I had been treated my whole life.

    “Now, what where you saying about Elijah?” Cadalyn busied herself with cutting more slices of the black bread, and Duryis accepted a piece, sitting down and thickly buttering it.

    “He ripped a hole in his shirt. It's a huge rip. From the top left shoulder to the bottom on the right side.” I froze, my heart thumping. Duryis was oblivious to me, and talked on about Elijah to Cadalyn, but my thoughts were filled with Esryn's scar.

    I can't really explain why I was so afraid of Prince Esryn. It was this instinctual feeling, one that put me on guard. Just the thought of him filled me with fear. I couldn't be a slave to him. I'd probably have a heart failure.

    “Who was this that was going to buy you?” Cadalyn asked me as she put some more bread on my plate.

    My mouth went dry, but (thankfully) before I could say anything, a small figure appeared at the bottom of the steps. She had long brown hair, blank blue eyes, and a sad, sad face. She seemed to be about five years.

    Cadalyn gave a small gasp. “Kielle! You shouldn't be down here!” She hurridly grabbed the small girl and raced back upstairs.

    I turned to Duryis. “Who was that?”

    “Kielle. She wasn't exactly a slave, but close to it. She was-” He stopped, and looked at me, then grimaced and fixed his attention on his bread.

    “She was what?”

    “I'm not really supposed to say,” he mumbled.

    “Oh,” I said, and dropped it. “Who's Elijah?”

    He shrugged. “Another escaped slave. He got here last night, and is sleeping now. You goin' to Lythel?”

    I nodded. “My mother told me to flee to Lythel. She told me that before I was sold to Taraketh.” I turned my face away. “That was the last time I saw her.”

    “I'm sorry,” Duryis said sympathetically. He hesitated, and looked down. “The same thing happened to Elijah's mother, and others. I've heard many stories like that.”

    Cadalyn came back downstairs, and sat at the table, looking weary. “I put her to bed,” she announced.

    The thought of bed made me remember my sleepless night. Miss Madina coming into the kitchen to tell me about the visitors felt like a million years ago.

    Noticing how tired I was, Cadalyn said, “Why don't you get some rest?” She led me upstairs to a straw mattress with some quilts. I collapsed on the bed, and was instantly asleep.