The Hand and the Hound â Chapter 7
Martyn followed a frantic path of broken branches and hoofprints in the snow, almost as frantic as Martyn himself. His mind was already beginning to wander, imagining the worst case scenarios, hoping and praying that they wouldnât come to pass.Â
A shrill whinny sounded nearby â a jolting cry of sheer panic that startled both Martyn and Colin. Shortly after, a mare with a rich brown coat emerged from the brush with a frantic look in her eyes.
Heather was a mess, with burrs and thorns sticking to her mane, and her back hoof snagged on a rope that dragged a large, heavy mass behind her.
âEasy,â Martyn whispered, dismounting Colin and cautiously approaching the frightened mare. He stroked her nose until she calmed a little, then set about untangling her foot. Behind her was the corpse of a stag, its dark eyes staring into nothing, all tangled up in ropes.Â
Maybe she just got spooked, Martyn reasoned. By a harmless wild animal or something. Maybe Ren just lost control.
Without warning, an ear-splitting explosion shook the trees violently, causing the earth beneath Martynâs feet to tremble. Heather squealed and bolted for the palacade, and Martyn just barely managed to stop Colin from doing the same.
Shortly thereafter, Martyn heard hoofbeats crunching in his direction, and Scar and Grian emerged from the trees, a look of distress written on their faces.
âMartyn,â Scar huffed. âThank goodness youâre here â I donât know what happened â Ren â he ââ
Martyn stalked closer to Scar, turning his face into a stern, placid mask. âTake me to him.â
Martyn swung his leg over Colinâs saddle and followed behind Scar and Grian, until they reached a tree, half-uprooted, its bark charred and its branches still smoldering.
He dismounted Colin and grasped his reins tightly in his fist, seemingly the only thing binding him to reality.
A memory came to mind, from when Martyn had wandered all the way to the Desert Kingdom. He had been in a large crowd during an arena fight between a wanted fugitive and a desert creeper.
Well. It wasnât much of a fight.
The man charged at the creeper, probably not sure what else to do. Or maybe he knew it was futile, and just wanted to get it over with. The creeper smoked, crackled, and completely obliterated the both of them. There was nothing left â no blood, no guts, nothing. Just a massive, gaping hole.
And thatâs precisely what Martyn stood on the edge of.Â
No. This couldnât be right. If Ren was here, he must have escaped. He must have done something â he couldnât be â Martyn didnât even want to think the word.
Scar put his hand on Martynâs shoulder. Martyn would have shoved it away, but he couldnât bring himself to do anything but stare into the crater.
âThere was nothing I could do,â Scar said. âBy the time I realized what was happening⌠it had already happened.â
âGet out,â Martyn snarled, now finding his voice.
Scar leaned in closer. âExcuse me?â
âGet out of my kingdom, you bastard!â
Scar stumbled back, startled for only a moment. âHey, hey! Letâs all calm down for a moment. And donât go around throwing out accusations! Weâre allies now, remember? Surely your King told you.â
âYeah, and some ally youâve been so far,â Martyn snapped, gesturing towards the crater.
âUm, Scar?â Grian said. âCan I borrow you for a moment?â
âYes, of course,â Scar said.
âMartyn, can you give us a moment alone?â
âI â sure.â Martyn went far away enough that they would have a sense of privacy, but close enough that he could still hear.
âOkay, first of all, weâre not technically allies until fealty is sworn,â Grian said firmly. âAnd second of all, your whole plan is never gonna work if heâs gonna be all riled up like that.â
âBut I was trying to take advantage of him! Yâknow, set him on edge.â
âWell, heâs gonna take advantage of us if heâs gonna be on our backs the whole time!â Grian sighed. âHow about this: we give him some time to settle down, get things back in order. Then weâll see about making any more moves.â
âOkay, fine.â Scar approached Martyn, a cunning but warm smile on his face, his eyes sharp and shining. âMartyn! I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, so to speak. I too grieve the loss of your King, and I understand how this could be a difficult time for your Kingdom. So how about we give you some time to reorganize, yâknow, get you into a real position of power. Letâs say⌠âtil the end of Spring. Then maybe we could see about some vassalage?â
Martyn planted his feet. The idea of being in charge of everything Martynâs stomach churn, and the idea of swearing homage with Scar even more so. But as much as he hated being Scarâs ally, he knew being enemies would have even more devastating consequences.Â
âSo be it,â Martyn growled.
Scar clapped his hands together. âGreat! Lovely! Weâll be heading back by tomorrow.â
As Scar mounted his horse, he gave Martyn a final, teasing smirk. âLong live the King.â