Day 28 - Release
Crowley guided Cropper over the path through the mountains. His eyes were focused on the road, but his mind was somewhere else. He wanted nothing more than to urge his horse forward, but he knew that one misstep could, and most likely would, be fatal.
They had ridden for hours now and the sun was already disappearing behind the horizon. It was best to rest and continue the next day, but the young Ranger didn’t want to waste any time. Not now that he knew how little time was left.
Cropper slowed down his pace slightly when they approached a rather small path. It was possible to go over it, but it wasn’t ideal.
“There’s another route,” Cropper said and was already looking at the direction. “It’s not that much longer.”
Crowley frowned, pulling the reins to his right.
“We’ll continue this way. No need to go around if the path is right here.”
He tapped his horse’s belly, but Cropper didn’t move. The chestnut coloured pony turned his head, looking at him with his big, brown eye.
“I don’t fancy the idea of tumbling down, thank you very much.”
Crowley started to get annoyed and dismounted, moving to stand in front of his horse.
“Neither do I, but there is nothing wrong with this path.”
Cropper lifted his head, then, after a moment of looking at the path, he shook his manes.
“No, I’m not going there. It’s too dangerous.”
The young man took the reins and started pulling them. On the other end, Cropper did the same. He was stronger than Crowley, but he didn’t care.
“I’m telling you, there is nothing wrong with this path. We can just – ”
His reasoning was suddenly interrupted when Cropper didn’t resist anymore. Without the counterforce, Crowley shot backwords, losing his balance and swaying dangerously close to the edge.
His face turned from red to pale when he noticed what was to happen. Thankfully, Cropper pulled on the reins just in time to prevent him from falling down.
As he stepped away from the edge, a part of it broke of and fell down, the sound of clashing rocks echoing through the mountains. It ended with a loud smack! on the ground, a few metres below them.
“Nothing to worry about, huh?” Cropper mentioned, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Crowley was sitting on the ground, shaking from fear and the realisation that he had been close to meeting Death.
“Now that I think about it, that other path would be fine,” he stammered, slowly raising onto his feet. “Let’s take that one, but we should still be careful.”
In the end, the other path hadn’t been much longer, which made that he arrived sooner at his destination than he had thought. Once they had left the tricky mountain paths behind them, they entered a landscape with meadows and forests. Crowley had chosen to stay away from the main road as he didn’t want to draw too much attention. It took him a bit longer, but the Ranger and his horse approached the area where they needed to be.
From the lean-to, Crowley heard a familiar neigh and his heart finally calmed down. He was on time.
Without waiting for an invitation, he dismounted, leaving Cropper standing in front of the cabin. He hurried up the veranda, skipping the three steps by jumping onto the wooden planks. Even before he could knock, the door flew open.
“Why the haste, did something happen?” a man far in his fifties asked. He had barely finished his question when Crowley embraced him firmly.
“I thought I was too late and that they had taken you. But you’re still here,” he whispered into the man’s tunic.
The old man sighed softly, then placed his arms around Crowley.
“They won’t be able to take me, even if they wanted to,” he said.
Crowley lifted his head, a relieved expression on his face.
“Does that mean that you’ll stay?” he asked.
The old Ranger slowly lowered his arms, breaking the embrace.
“I can’t stay, Crowley.”
He felt an ache in his heart when he saw the pained expression on the young Ranger’s face.
“But... it’s just rumours,” Crowley stammered. “Surely the Baron here doesn’t believe them.” There was an uncomfortable silence as they looked at each other.
“Pritchard?” Crowley asked eventually when his former mentor slowly moved his gaze to the table. Crowley followed it and saw an envelope laying on top.
Walking to it, he took it and read what was written. His face turned from pained to horrified and finally to anger.
“This is nonsense! How dare they say such things? You are the most loyal Ranger the Kingdom has had these years! Has King Oswald lost his – ”
He couldn’t finish his sentence as Pritchard slammed his hand over his mouth. He closed the distance between them in two steps. His eyes went to the open door.
“Watch your mouth!” he hissed. “You don’t know who’s listening!”
When he was sure that Crowley got the message, he lowered his hand.
“I know it’s not true, but there is nothing I can do about it.”
Crowley looked at the paper in his hands. Surely there was something that could be done, right? After all, this was Pritchard. The best Ranger of the Kingdom.
“Can’t you try to defend yourself?” he suggested, but his former mentor shook his head.
“With what proof? This is an official document, my words would do nothing against it. Besides, who could I ask for help?”
The young Ranger thought about it, but then had to come to the realisation that Pritchard was right.
The old man laid his hands on Crowley’s shoulder, squeezing them gently.
“I wouldn’t go if I had an honest chance to correct this. But that’s not possible. Not now at least. I don’t like to run away, to leave everything behind as well as everyone I care about. But if I stay, there is a big chance they will go after me. And I don’t want to give them that satisfaction. They won’t get me.”
Tears welled up in Crowley’s eyes as he heard Pritchard speaking. He could barely speak as a lump had formed in his throat.
“Where will you go?” he asked, looking at his former mentor.
“Probably to Hibernia, although I’m not sure where. The kingdoms there all have their own political problems as well. Might head for Clonmel first and then see what to do or where to go.”
Crowley slowly nodded, causing the tears to fall down his cheeks.
“Will you come back?”
Pritchard shrugged.
“If possible, yes. But that depends on what happens in the upcoming years. Besides, I’m not the youngest either.” He meant it as a joke, but right now, it didn’t feel like one.
Crowley understood what Pritchard was saying, but the weight of the words pressed on his heart. A pain like he hadn’t felt before was forming there. He placed his hand on his chest, as to try to rub the pain away.
“So, this is it?” he whispered, his eyes meeting Pritchard’s.
The old Ranger nodded, not able to keep his tears to himself either.
“I think so,” he replied.
Crowley let out a sob before he was pulled into a hug. It was longer and firmer than he had felt before. He wrapped his arms around Pritchard, too afraid to let go of him. For he knew that it would be the last embrace he would receive from the man he had come to see as a father figure.
Two weeks later, Pritchard was gone. He had left a message to Crowley which the young man saw when he returned home after an inspection round through his fief. It was tied to a pigeon’s paw which was waiting impatiently in the stable. The message wasn’t more than two sentences and was written hurriedly, as if he didn’t have much time left.
“Don’t worry about me, for I arrived safe and well at my destination. Take care of yourself, Crowley. Pritchard.”
Wiping away the tears, he was shocked to see another letter shoved underneath his door. He took it and used a small knife to open it. As he was reading it, the ground underneath his feet disappeared.
“On demand of King Oswald, I hereby inform you that Ranger Crowley Meratyn of Greenfield fief is ordered to move to Hogarth Fief before the end of the week. If not, he will be arrested on charges of violating the King’s orders.”
Without thinking twice, Crowley grabbed his belongings, wrote a quick message and placed it on the table. He looked around one last time before going to the stable.
Cropper seemed to sense what was going on as he didn’t comment but stayed quiet. Not even an hour later, Crowley left the place that had been his home for the past seven years.
