Unbound II - Rowen & Mareth

Mareth nervously tugged at the hem of his oversized tunic as he watched his brother push through the foliage and stand beside him. Their clothes were a hodge-podge of baggy trousers, tight shoes, and torn coats – such was the lot of street urchins.

‘What're we waiting for?’ Rowen said eagerly, looking at the stream below them, his blonde mess of hair flapping in the gentle breeze of the King's Wood. 

‘We should fill our waterskins. We might not get another chance once we get to the King's Road.’ Mareth said, pulling his canteen out. 

‘I'll get it!’ Rowen exclaimed as he grabbed it out of Mareth's hands and began hopping down towards the water. Mareth rolled his eyes but watched on fondly as his brother started skipping across the stream, jumping from rock to rock. Rowen had always been vivacious and lighthearted, despite the hardships they'd faced. Mareth was jealous in a way – how free he must feel – but it brought a smile to his face nonetheless. He didn't even seem worried when they'd fled Tileth. Good thing we left when we did, he thought to himself. A city full of rebels is a dangerous place to be. 

A whoop of glee caught his attention as Rowen landed on a stone in the middle of the water, balancing on one foot. He teetered on one leg, arms flailing madly as he struggled not to fall in. The water below bubbled, and something sleek launched out of it, propelled towards him at speed. Mareth's breath caught in his throat – a deadly daggertooth? a soldier's spear trap? – until he realised what it was. His brother turned around, holding a small, shiny fish, and Mareth breathed a sigh of relief even as his jaw dropped. He'd caught it mid-air. Somehow Rowen always had dumb luck on his side.

His brother looked up at him. ’You hungry?’

———————✧———————

The fire cracked and popped as they stared hungrily at the small fish skewered over the flames. Mareth reckoned it was a dace or some other type of river fish. Rowen's stomach growled. They hadn't eaten in several days, so even the meagre catch seemed a feast. Mareth had kept the fire small. Attracting attention might be dangerous, and it was quite warm in Tilethan anyway – far from the chill winds of the capital. He shivered despite the heat. It had been five years since they'd fled the city. Five years of grifting, stealing, and scrounging anything they could. Five years since she’d… Mareth shook his head, looking at his brother. Rowen's blue eyes glinted as the flames danced in their reflection, his round face curled in a smile of anticipation. He'd only been seven when they'd left, stowing away on wagons bound for the outer reaches. 

Rowen's voice broke his reverie, ‘Why is it called the King's Wood, Mar?’ he asked.

‘Every city in the Empire has a King's Wood,’ Mareth explained. 

‘But why is it the King's?’ 

‘It's something to do with hunting rights I think. The King's Road runs through most of them, and they're patrolled more often to watch for Unbound.’

‘So isn't it dangerous for us to be here?’ Rowen asked, cocking his head.

‘A little,’ Mareth admitted before pausing, thinking about how to answer. It had been Rowen's fault they'd had to leave Tileth. Gyrreg had called him a liability. 

‘We don't have much of a choice,’ said Mareth softly. It wasn't Rowen's fault, he just had a bad streak of luck. 

‘Do we really have to steal? Can't we just, I don't know, find someone to work for again? Another blacksmith?’ the boy said. In truth, Mareth would love nothing more than a stable, honest job, but something always went wrong. 

‘You did it under Gyrreg. Now we're just doing it for ourselves.’

‘Yes, and I didn't like it then!’ Rowen sighed. They'd had this conversation many times. Mareth put a hand on his shoulder. ‘The rebels won't notice a few supplies missing – they've just annexed an entire city. Empire'll be here soon, and we need to be long gone before then.’

‘I know. I don't get why Gyrreg made us leave though. She always said the double fakeout was her best ploy, and we'd just got it all worked out.’ Rowen said as he pouted. ‘Besides, I really liked the gang. Tath was really funny – he could charm the pants off an elephant! And Bom’Bed was so easygoing.’

‘I'm not sure elephants wear pants Ro.’ Mareth said with a wry smile. 

‘Bom'Bed said it's super hot where he's from. Maybe they need them so they don't get sunburnt?’

Mareth rolled his eyes and Rowen chuckled at himself. ‘They were good people,’ Mareth finally agreed. ‘The plan was just… too complicated.’

‘It wasn't that complicated.’ Rowen protested. ’Tath distracts them, you pretend to steal their pouch, and then I come in and grab their Flashstones while they're chasing you. Easy.’

‘Except it didn't work out that way did it?’

‘What do you mean? We got the Flashstones without a hitch.’ Rowen said, his brows furrowing in confusion. 

‘We almost got caught.’ Mareth said, pressing on despite Rowen's protests. ‘Gyrreg was about to charge in.’

‘She was? To do what?’ 

‘I don't know. Tackle the Noble? Maybe whisk us away?’ Mareth said, shaking his head. Gyrreg wasn't supposed to get involved – or that wasn't the plan at least. Rowen had left it so late that the Noble had almost caught Mareth. He wouldn't have found anything, but it could have gone poorly. Rowen had almost collided with both Mareth and the Noble at the end, somehow pocketing the man's Flashstone pouch while sending him sprawling. ‘You did almost get flattened by him. Wouldn't have been good if he'd have caught either of us.’ he said, looking at his younger brother.

‘Why do you say that?’ Rowen asked, confused. He never seemed to understand the problems his fumbles caused. In fact, he rarely acknowledged that he even made these mistakes.

Mareth's frustration tinged his voice as he spoke. ‘You were supposed to take the pouch before he reached me. It didn't look like you were even going to try.’

Rowen was completely unphased. ‘It was the right time. If I'd’ve grabbed for it earlier he would've caught us. He was faster than you.’

‘How do you know?’ Mareth asked. Rowen paused to think, then shrugged. 

‘It just felt right.’

‘It felt right?’

‘Yeah. Like…’ Rowen trailed off, looking up to the forest canopy in thought. Mareth almost thought he was lost in a daydream, but he finally spoke, ‘Like how you know where your hands are without even looking. Or how you pick up a glass without crushing it.’

Mareth narrowed his eyes, looking at the young boy. How could he feel where the man was going to be? Sometimes he thought his brother was from another place. There was certainly something different about him, as if he saw the world differently to everyone else. His face softened as Rowen looked to him. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for his brother. 

‘Is it ready yet?’ Rowen asked. Mareth removed the fish from the fire and looked it over. Using his knife he divided it in two, and offered half to Rowen. He didn't notice Mareth had given him the bigger half. 

Mareth ate slowly, savouring every bite. Despite their plans, they might not succeed – this could be their last meal for some time, meagre as it was. He took another bite right as Rowen smacked his lips in satisfaction, juice dripping down his chin. He'd already finished. They shared a look, then burst out laughing.

After they'd stopped giggling, Rowen wiped his mouth. ‘Alven never liked the way I ate. She always told me off.’ Rowen said jovially. ‘It was either eating sloppily, leaving my clothes on the floor, or trailing soot in from the forge. Said my manners were fit for a pigsty. At least Fors found it funny.’ He chuckled again, before a contemplative look washed over him and his grin faded. ‘Maybe that was why he kicked us out.’ 

‘I don't think it was.’ Mareth said with a wan smile. It was because you almost knocked him out at the forge, he thought. ‘He didn't like us trying to change how he worked.’ 

‘You mean me?’ Rowen said, and Mareth winced. That had been a bit too obvious. ‘It was more efficient my way though. He made half again as many weapons with our help.’

‘The winch system was pretty good at moving metal around.’ Mareth admitted. ‘It only came near to hitting him in the head what, five times?’ 

Rowen rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. ‘It was never going to hit him. He was being dramatic.’ 

‘Oh?’ Mareth said, eyebrow raised. ‘I suppose you wouldn't call a foot close then?’

‘It was just under a foot actually. Maybe 10 inches.’ Rowen said. How does he know that? Mareth thought. ‘You don't believe me.’ Rowen said. 

‘I just find it hard to see how you're smart enough to know the exact distance but dense enough not to realise the danger it posed.’

‘There was no danger. At least not from me.’

‘Could you feel that one too?’ Mareth said sarcastically, finishing his last bite of fish. Rowen blushed. 

‘Yes.’ he replied quietly. His expression gave Mareth pause. His brother was often flippant – even oblivious – but he was rarely serious. He looked him over, and was about to respond, until Rowen spoke. 

‘We should get moving.’ he said, kicking dirt on the fire. ‘Wouldn't want to miss all the food would we?’ Mareth's stomach rumbled. That fish had not been a feast. 

———————✧———————

Mareth moved through the underbrush quietly as only someone practiced could. Five years of fear and hunger would do that to you. The forest was thick with broad trees here, their gnarled trunks reaching for the sky like ancient pillars all the way up to the lush canopy that shaded everything below in a rich viridian. He paused, and Rowen swept past him, moving with a nonchalance that Mareth would normally have chastised – but something stopped him. Rowen barely ducked under the large ferns, brushing straight past shrubs and stepping without consideration, yet the foliage seemed only to sway as if in the wind. No sticks snapped underfoot. No birds leapt from bushes. For someone so clumsy, he sure is adept at blending in, Mareth thought before falling in behind his brother for the first time. 

They reached the top of the steep hill a short time later, stepping onto the wide track – they'd reached the King's Road. The trees were less dense here, though it was still hard to see very far into the forest. The path before them was remarkably wide and even, though it was only packed dirt this far out in the empire. They'd used these often on their travels, and despite their dangers, they almost felt like home. The roads were safer than the wilderness, and the King's Road had less bandits due to increased patrols. Though the path snaked out of sight down the hill below, from here they could see it leading beyond, far away from Tileth. 

‘Do you think we'll ever follow it back?’ Rowen asked as they looked into the distance. Mareth glanced over to him. 

‘The King's Road?’ he asked. Rowen nodded, a wistful look on his face. Mareth paused, before saying, ‘I don't know, Ro. I don't want to go there yet.’ 

‘One day?’ 

‘One day.’ 

They stood in silence for a while, staring down the path leading away from Tileth. It wasn't long before Mareth saw it. ‘Here comes one!’ he said, nudging Rowen. 

‘Where?’ 

‘Right there on the road.’ Mareth said, pointing at a tiny horse-drawn cart in the distance. ‘Blue banners – definitely rebels.’ At least his vision was better than his brother's. 

‘Oh yeah. They're coming quite fast, we should get ready. What's the plan?’ Rowen asked. Mareth pursed his lips. He didn't really have a plan.

‘We hide in the brush under that root there. They'll have to slow down at the top of the hill – we'll be able to hear them before they arrive. Should be simple enough to slip out and grab something from the back.’ he said. Rowen nodded, and they watched as the cart trundled towards them, dust billowing behind it like a signal flare. As it approached, they hopped down to the left of the path, taking cover under a particularly knotted tree root. Mareth poked his head up, watching the banner approach. Rowen popped his head up too, before Mareth pushed him back down, ‘Stay down, we don't want to get spotted.’ 

Mareth continued to watch surreptitiously until the cart disappeared behind the bend at the bottom of the rise. He slid back next to Rowen. ‘Remember, grab as much as you can, but don't get greedy. Food'll do us no good if we’re dead or in jail.’ he said. Rowen smiled encouragingly.

’We've got this!’

As they turned to watch the road for signs of the cart, Mareth tensed in anticipation. It was taking longer than he thought. Rowen looked totally relaxed, of course. Mareth strained to see any signs of the rebels – the dust trails, a banner – nothing. He was getting twitchy. It should be here already. Where on earth is it? He thought as his foot tapped unconsciously, the minutes stretching by. 

There! 

As expected, he heard it before it came into view. But it was wrong. It sounded ahead of them. That didn't make any sense, they'd been waiting far ahead, and he hadn't seen any signs of the passing. His stomach growled. They couldn't let it get away. Maybe if they ran after it they wouldn't be too late.

Mareth moved to start clambering onto the path, but Rowen's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The boy shook his head, totally calm. Something in those eyes… Mareth stopped, making sure he was still hidden. He couldn't explain why he trusted Rowen's judgement this time, but then he couldn't explain how his brother’s total lack of finesse hadn't caused any harm. At least not directly. Mareth watched him as the sound grew fainter. Rowen closed his eyes, and starting mouthing silently. 

Five. 

The rumbling of the cart's wooden wheels had almost totally faded now. 

Four. 

It began to grow louder again, the clopping of hooves on dirt growing closer rapidly. 

Three. 

Mareth realised what was happening, and prepared himself once more. 

Two. 

The sound of the cart grew to a crescendo as it passed. The horse winnied, and the two men driving it laughed at some joke. 

One. 

They launched from their hiding spot, bursting out behind the cart. Caught in the dust trails, it would've been hard to spot them, if there'd even been time. They were barely out for more than a few seconds. The cart was laden with crates of food. Mareth yanked at the first one he saw, and it came free. They were back in the undergrowth in no time, slipping down the hill away from the rebels who were none the wiser. The slope was steep here, and they half tumbled down as Rowen let out a whoop of joy. Mareth didn't stop him – in fact, he had a big grin on his face.

Their tumble came to a stop on a dirt path. The King's Road? Mareth thought, before he realised his mistake. The road had wound up the hill in a zig zag – it was far too steep to climb directly. He looked to his brother who was beaming at him. The smile said thank you for trusting me. 

‘How did you know?’ Mareth asked, giddy and panting. ‘How did you know they were still coming? When to come out?’ he asked. 

Rowen shrugged, ‘It seemed obvious.’ 

Mareth didn't question him this time. There was something more to Rowen than dumb luck – now he was sure of it. He looked at his brother anew, then gave him a hug. Rowen just smiled back. 

‘Come on, let's get out of here before they notice anything is missing.’ Mareth said, and the two pushed deeper into the forest. He watched his brother saunter on as they walked, wolfing down an apple and jerky at the same time. He shook his head. He'd always taken Rowen as over-confident, but perhaps it wasn't unfounded.

Mareth's thoughts drifted towards the rebels and their blue banner, so obviously opposing the crimson of the empire – the crimson of the military. This is what they look for, he thought. Everyone knew the stories. Uncanny timing, unnatural luck. ‘Shards, Ro.’ Mareth swore quietly. Could he really be one of them? His head spun with the possibilities. They'd never struggle for food again. But they'll never stop looking for him if they find out.

‘Mmph?’ Rowen mumbled with a mouthful of bread. ‘What's up?’ he asked. Mareth looked at his brother and felt his body tense as if in preparation. He wasn’t ready. Rowen barely acted his age, and was far too frivolous and naive. They would have to train hard and be careful. Much more careful. Something in his eyes gave Mareth pause though. They held the look, and for once he let his vigilance fade.

‘Nothing. Leave some for me.’ He clapped Rowen on the back with a smile.