The pillars of creation

As the heavy overcast darkened ominously and a light snow began to fall late one afternoon, they were fortunate to find a small village. They spent the night there, letting the horses stay in the small stable, where they had good oats and clean bedding. There was no inn in the town. Sebastian and Jennsen paid a few copper pennies to sleep in the hayloft. After having been out in the open so long, Jennsen felt it was a palace.

The morning brought a storm with wind and snow, but even worse, the snow was interspersed with a heavy wet sleet that came in gales. Traveling in such conditions would be not only miserable, but dangerous. She was glad, especially for the horses, that it kept them at the stable an extra day and another night. The horses ate and rested while Sebastian and Jennsen told each other lighthearted stories from their youth. She loved to see the gleam in his eyes when he told her some of his misadventures of fishing as a boy. The next day dawned blue, but with a wind. Still, they dared not linger longer.

They made their way along roads or trails, since people were few and far between. Sebastian was ever cautious, but quietly confident that they would be safe enough. With the ever-present comfort of the knife at her belt, Jennsen, too, felt that it was better to risk the roads and trails rather than attempt to strike out across remote and unknown territory covered in a thick blanket of snow. Traveling cross-country was always difficult, from time to time dangerous, and with the barrier of towering mountains all about, frequently impossible. Winter only made such travel all the more difficult, but worse, hid perils lurking beneath the snow. They feared to have a horse break a leg attempting it needlessly.

That night, as she started building them a shelter by loosely weaving together a dozen saplings and covering them with balsam boughs, Sebastian stumbled back to their camp, panting from effort. His hands were slick with blood.

"Soldier," he said, trying to catch his breath.

Jennsen knew what soldiers he meant. "But how could they have followed us? How could they!"

Sebastian looked away from her fury, her frantic demand. "It's Lord Rahl's gifted chasing us." He pulled a deep breath. "Wizard Nathan Rahl saw you, back at the palace."

That made no sense. She was a hole in the world to the gifted. How could any gifted follow a hole in the world?

He saw her dubious expression. "Not too hard to track through snow."

Snow. Of course. She nodded in resignation, her fury turning to fear. "One of the quad?"

"I'm not sure. It was a D'Haran soldier. He came out of nowhere at me. I had to fight for my life. I killed him, but we must huffy and get out of here in case there were others nearby."

She was too frightened to argue. They had to keep moving. The thought of men coming out of the darkness at them lent swiftness to her actions as they saddled the horses. They were quickly mounted and soon riding hard while there was still enough light to see by. They had to dismount, then, and walk to let the horses rest. Sebastian was sure they would have put distance on anyone after them. The snow helped them see, so that, even with clouds scudding past a partial moon, they were able to follow the road.

By the next night, they were so exhausted that they had to stop, even at the risk of being captured. They slept sitting up, leaning together before a small fire with their backs to a deadfall.

They made slow but steady progress in the days following and saw no sign of anyone following them. Jennsen took little comfort in that. She knew that they would not give up.

A stretch of sunny days allowed them to make good time. It was no comfort to her because they left clear tracks and the soldiers pursuing them would be able to make equally good time. They stayed to roads that had been traveled, whenever they came across them, so as to throw off and delay anyone who followed.

But then the storms returned. They pushed onward for five days despite near-blizzard conditions. As long as they could see the paths and narrow roads, and were able to put one foot in front of the other, they couldn't afford to stop, because the wind and snow covered their tracks almost as soon as they made them. Jennsen had spent enough of her life outdoors to know that tracking them would be impossible in such conditions. It was their first real hope of slipping the noose from their necks.

They selected roads or trails randomly. Each time they came to a crossroads or fork, Jennsen was relieved to see it, because it meant another chance for their pursuers to choose wrong. Several times they cut crosscountry, the drifting snow making it impossible for anyone to know where they had gone. Despite how weary she was, Jennsen began to breathe easier.