As soon as three sets of snores filled his cell, Snowy slipped out of bed. Carefully, avoiding the night pot, he moved to the door. He covered the latch with his hand and moved it upwards. It made its usual squeak, but Snowy still froze. When no one stirred, he swung the door open just wide enough to squeeze through and stepped out into the corridor. The distant oil lamps left wide shadows along the corridors length. Unfortunately, one of the lamps was right next to his door and lit him brightly enough for anyone to see. He closed the door again, easing the latch down a hair breadth at a time. Finally he was able to creep into one of the shadows and set off down towards the kitchens.

Snowy was quite excited at all this sneaking around. And even more so at the thought of leaving the castle. Marsa hadn’t told him why they were going, or where to, or why they had to sneak out. The other people he had known who had left, only a handful or so, had gone to see the Chore Boss and then gone out of the main gate in daylight. But this is better, thought Snowy, much more of an adventure.

Marsa started when he finally reached the kitchens. The only light came from a low fire, no more than burning embers in the grate.

”Tyron?” She whispered. She seemed on edge, and not at all excited.

“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled to reassure her, then realised she probably couldn’t see him.

She came closer, moving cautiously around the table and the old chopping block. Taking hold of his arm, she drew him over to the fire and looked him up and down.

“Where’s all of your things?” She hissed, holding up a cloth bundle that held all her belongings.

“This is it.” He whispered. “I’m wearing all my clothes, I have the rest of my stuff in pockets, and I’m wearing this.” He showed her a piece of string hung around his neck to which was attached a small silver coin.

She nodded, then reached out and touched his cheek. She seemed sad at his few possessions, but tonight he was glad he didn’t have much to carry. Marsa turned away and walked over to the side door. She peered out, moving slowly, turning her head left and right. When she was satisfied, she beckoned Snowy over.

“From now on no talking unless we have no other choice. Voices carry a long way at night. Now, follow me and do what I do, understand?”

Snowy nodded. His heart was pounding and he was having difficulty stopping from smiling. Marsa watched him for a moment, then reached out and touched his face, then his shoulder. “Tyron.” she sighed, but said no more.

Marsa stepped out of the door, it led out to the herb garden, then out to a courtyard via a wide gate. Snowy followed, this is it, he thought, the first steps on my first adventure. He wondered briefly where his steps would take him, then concentrated on the business at hand. He stepped out into cloudless night, a world lit by a half moon. Shades of grey deepened to complete black against walls and hedges, and other shapes unfamiliar in the gloom. Shadows to hide in, but shadows to conceal prying eyes.

Marsa had got quite a way ahead of him and beckoned him on urgently. When she was sure he was following, she quickened her step. Keeping to as much shadow as possible, the pair moved around the cobbled courtyard where the wagons from the farms came to deliver their produce. A road led under an arch and down towards the main gate. The pair moved under the arch, but quickly climbed over a low wall once through it.

On the other side, Marsa stopped and crouched down, watching for signs of pursuit from the direction they had come. Snowy copied her. He wanted to know how she knew all this stuff, but of course he couldn’t ask her. When she was happy they hadn’t been discovered, she moved off again.

Then it was down the hill, across the damp grass, towards the smaller gate on the east side. As the gate in the outer wall came in to view, Marsa stopped suddenly, crouching down on the slope. Snowy did the same, looking towards the wall. Set into it was a lesser gate, for use by people on foot or leading horses. Not wide enough for carts, it didn’t have a road, only a mud track that would have made the going quieter. It led towards the village, joining the main road some distance from the castle. It was locked at dusk and opened again at dawn, but it was common knowledge in the castle that a determined person could climb through it in a certain place in the ironwork. Indeed, it was often busier at night than in the daylight, especially when the travelling fair came to town.

Putting her mouth so close to Snowy’s ear he thought she was going to kiss him, Marsa breathed, “Guards, on the gate. They aren’t usually there, I don’t know what’s happened.”

They were very exposed on the hillside, in full view of the guards if they chose to look their way. Marsa turned and led them back up the hill until the gate disappeared in the gloom. She stood quietly for a while, she was shivering, although the night was warm. Snowy moved closer. “Marsa, we can go out through the wood, you know, where we play, over the wall there’s a small stream in a ditch, someone said it leads to the river.”

Marsa stood thinking this over, then slowly, she nodded, took a deep breath and gestured him to lead the way. Snowy climbed back to the top of the hill and over to the small stone wall. Instead of going over, he headed for the base of the castle wall and headed north. They would have to go all the way around the castle, almost half a lap, as the main entrance was on the south side and they couldn’t risk crossing that. Even in times of peace it was well guarded.

It took quite some time to work their way around the castle, as there was little shadow except around the base of the castle wall. At the foot of the east tower Snowy suddenly stopped. Marsa almost ran into him. Again she put her mouth to his ear.

“What is it?”

He turned and placed his mouth against Marsa’s ear. “Dung.”

“What?”

“Dung, from the latrines in the tower chambers. We’ll after to go around it or through it. If we go around it we’ll be out in view of the chamber windows.”

“We go around, one at a time, look for lights in the chamber windows.” Marsa decided.

Marsa went first, stepping slowly into the moonlight, looking forwards, then back the way they had come and then up at the windows. The dung pit wasn’t very wide, and both were soon back in shadow. The only way they had of knowing they hadn’t been seen was the lack of any alarm being sounded.

The pair were forced to do the same again at the north tower, then across the short cut grass and towards the trees.

Finally they reached the wood and breathed a sigh of relief. They rested briefly, whilst watching the castle and their back trail, but no lights appeared in the windows nor figures approached. Snowy led them through the familiar trail towards the treasure tree, then turned right and headed for the old wall. He helped Marsa over the wall and then followed. A shallow bank led down to the spring fed pool that marked the beginning of the small stream. Once down into it they were on a trail of sorts and could simply follow it, mostly hidden in the ditch. Now they were out in the open, the moonlight became more welcome. Together with the soft noise of the flowing water and the warmth of the night, it became a pleasant walk, even more so because it led to freedom. A few times they had to walk in the stream, it wasn’t deep and the water was pleasantly cool to his hot feet. It did make more noise though, and he had to reassure Marsa all would be fine. They were far from the castle now, and no one would hear them out here.

The stream seemed to flow almost directly towards the river. As they got closer, Snowy grew more impatient to be there. Marsa insisted on regular stops, she said to listen out for signs of pursuit, but Snowy suspected she was just catching her breath. Once, they stopped where the bank had collapsed, forming a grassy seat to rest on. Always prepared, Marsa produced a small loaf, a couple of apples and boiled swans eggs from her pack. Washed down with water from the stream it made a fine early breakfast for the pair. Heartened by the meal and the peace of the night they moved on.

Night creatures rushed away as the two humans wandered through their territory. Disturbed from their watering place, foxes and rabbits and smaller, unseen creatures dashed away. A large owl skimmed the top of Marsa’s head, causing her to clamp her mouth over a cry. And once another creature yelped nearby, making Snowy jump. They both laughed quietly. Perhaps he wasn’t as relaxed as he thought.

Suddenly they were on the banks of a river, the one Snowy had seen from the top of the tree. It was wider across than Snowy could throw a stone, the dark water moving at walking pace right to left in front of them. Looking back, he could see the hill top in the first light of dawn. It seemed so very far away.

The bank itself was only narrow, about five paces at the most, irregular where the farm fields butted against it. The occasional horse shoe print broke the surface, but there was no other evidence of much usage. Marsa walked slowly over to the river, peering up and down it. “So,“ she said, smiling nervously. “Which way?”

Snowy shrugged.

“Well, we can be off the Underlord’s land quicker if we cross the river. The nearest bridge is a good days walk that way.” She indicated up stream. “But that takes us past a lot of his holdings. If we go down stream we can perhaps get a boat across, take a couple of days though.”

“How do you know?” Snowy asked.

Marsa looked sternly at him. “I haven’t always been a vegetable cook young man. Besides, I asked a merchant this morning, and it was as he was leaving, so don’t worry about him telling any one.”

As he walked over to the bank, Snowy saw something in the water. A long, low shape pulled right into the shallows. “Look,” he yelled, “That’s a boat.”

Before Marsa could stop him, He had ran down the bank and clambered in. “Come on Marsa, it’s even got paddle things.”

Marsa crept over to Snowy. “Come on out of there, Tyron,” she hissed quite loudly, “it belongs to someone, we can’t just take it. And quiet down, you’ll wake the whole world.”

Snowy continued, a little quieter. “But if it’s on this side of the river, then it must belong to the Underlord because this is his land. And he’s the one we’re escaping from, aren’t we?”

Briefly, an image of Vikta’s body with Tyron’s face formed in Marsa’s mind. A violent shiver ran through her body, unlocking her resolve. “You’re right, let’s hurry, before it’s completely light.”

Snowy picked up a paddle as Marsa settled nervously onto the opposite seat, facing him. The boat didn’t moved as Snowy pushed away from the bank. “It won’t move, what’s up with it?”

“I’m not a Skillmaster with boats, perhaps it’s broken.”

“How can a boat be broken? It’s just a wooden dish, but not round.”

“Well, perhaps you’re not pushing hard enough, or perhaps there’s a pushing stick or something.” She looked around in the bottom of the boat.

Snowy rammed the paddle into the muddy bank and pushed as hard as he could. He was rewarded with a movement of about half his thumb length. “What if we both push.” He suggested evenly.

Marsa took up another paddle and began to push her end. After several attempts the boat finally floated off and began to move down stream.

Snowy began to paddle enthusiastically, but managed only to drive the boat back towards the bank. “It won’t go straight, Marsa. Why is that?”

“I’m more interested in all that water coming in through the sides.”

Snowy looked down. His feet were already wet, and he hadn’t noticed. It was quite deep already and quickly getting deeper. The boat was rapidly sinking.

Deep, booming laughter suddenly filled the quiet dawn. Startled creatures burst from the grass and the fields, fleeing in every direction. Several figures appeared on the bank, rising up from their place of concealment. The Underlord moved over to the bank, laughing mightily. There was no mistaking him. Behind him could only be the smaller shapes of Dered and Dexel, then Hellfin Zelo, the Underlord’s beast master holding three shadowhounds on thick ropes, and lastly a few of the Underlord’s bodyguard. The guards were armed with crossbows, all of which were pointed at Marsa.

“We’ve waited all night for you. We thought you’d gone the other way and were about to give chase. It was worth the wait though, just to see your faces.” He laughed again.

Still smiling he gestured to his guards. “They’ll shoot if you try anything. You’ll be dead before you hit the water. Come ashore, now.”

Snowy glanced at Marsa. Tears streamed down her face and her hand was over her mouth, but she didn’t make a sound. Nor did she look in his eye. He climbed out of the now full boat and found the water was only thigh deep. Under the watchful eye of the guards, he helped Marsa to the bank and up onto the grass. Not a single other person helped as they struggled up, slipping nearly as much as climbing on the muddy bank.

Snowy and Marsa stood before the Underlord, dripping wet and shivering. Snowy wondered why Marsa was so scared. It was only the Underlord. He didn’t really understand why they were sneaking out, but he did know they had been caught, and were likely to be punished. Perhaps that was why Marsa looked so scared, because she knew what the punishment was.

“Tie their hands and take them back to the castle. Take them to the great hall, I’ll deal with them there.” The Underlord ordered his guards. Turning to his beast master he said, “Pity to waste such a good morning, let’s see if the hounds can grab a few sleepy water fowl for breakfast.” He moved off down the bank, rubbing his hands together and smiling broadly, the rest of his entourage following in his wake. The Shadowhounds were released and bounded off along the bank, sharing in their master’s eagerness. They were a little larger than a normal hunting dog, and covered in a dense, soft grey fur. They were very clever, sly and cunning and could sniff out almost anything across any terrain. They were also fierce and very tenacious, capable of bringing down a full grown stag with little trouble. The beast master had once told Snowy they were bonded to him for life, and if he left they would either break out and follow him, or pine away to nothing.

But Snowy had little time to admire the beasts. With their hands roughly bound, Snowy and Marsa were separated, Snowy pulled along in front by one of the guards. Behind him by ten paces, another guard towed Marsa, and furthest back strode another guard, her crossbow trained on Marsa’s back.

At the first pull on the robe, burning and chaffing his skin, it all became too much for Snowy. Never had he been treated anything like this. Once when he was younger, he remembered someone hitting him for something he had done, a meaty whack across the back of his head. But nothing like this. He wondered what they could possibly have done that was so bad. He began to sob, huge hot tears ran down his face and dripped onto his shirt front, only shame kept him from bursting into full blown crying. Nevertheless the guard holding his rope turned and laughed at him. “Shut up maggot, you haven’t got the worst of it yet.” All three guards laughed at this. Snowy did his best, but the occasional stifled whimper from Marsa just set him off again.

By the time they’d reached the castle, via the river road and the front gate, Snowy was barely able to stand. The soft skin around his wrists was burning terribly and his feet were coming up in blisters. The guard had hung the rope over his shoulder and practically carried him the last mile. As the crowds around the gate began to stare and whisper, Snowy tried to make the effort to stand upright and dry his tears. In the end he realised it was all for nothing, he didn’t care, and the only person who mattered to him was in the same situation.

The pair were taken into the main hall and made to kneel down about five paces apart. Marsa tried to speak but was nudged to silence with the crossbow of the guard behind her.

Snowy felt as bad as he had ever felt before. Emotions ran riot through his body; anger at the Underlord, fear of him too, guilt for getting Marsa into trouble, regret for leading them on that route. Then fear again, increasing as he thought of all the ways the Underlord could punish them. And deep inside, a tiny spark of warmth. Marsa had done all this for him, and then frustration, because she’d never told him why.

He tried to glance sideways, to try and mouth something to Marsa, but the ever vigilant guard grabbed his head with a heavy gauntleted hand. Turning him back to face the three large chairs at one end of the hall, the guard said, “Eyes front lad, she’s no concern of yours anymore.”

Snowy’s anger flared, his mouth drew back in a snarl, he breathed in through his teeth, ready to stand and face the man. The point of a quarrel dug into the back of his neck causing a shiver to run down his back and his shoulders to hunch up. “Little boy like you isn’t going to cause any trouble, little boy like you would get snapped like a dry twig.” The guard said calmly. “Best just stay still and stay alive. Know when you’re beat, that’s what I say.”

And so he did, emotions seething like a boiling pot in his stomach, for what seemed like days. Occasionally, as much as she could get away with Snowy thought, Marsa would breath deeply or otherwise make a sound. It was some comfort to know he wasn’t alone. The daily life of the castle occasionally interrupted the silence of the great hall. Servants would wander in on some errand, and be shooed out again by the guards. Word soon spread and the incidents became fewer. All Snowy could hear now was the creaking of the guard’s leather armour, the quite shifting of a foot, or the small signals from Marsa.

Then he suddenly realised he’d been kneeling a long time. The pain in his knees and the numbness in his lower legs hit all at once. By clamping his mouth shut he managed to limit the cry to a whimper. Leather creaked ominously behind him, but nothing happened, and he was grateful for that. Then he realised his bladder was full and his mouth dry, his stomach was empty and he was bored. And his wrists were stinging too, they were all red and inflamed. He would give anything, he thought, just to be able to stand.

Footsteps and laughter sounded behind the panelled door at the back of the hall. Suddenly he wanted to change his mind, wanted to stay here longer. He didn’t want Marsa to be punished, or the horrible thing he was running away from to happen. Let’s just kneel here he thought, just a while longer.

The door swung open and the Underlord strode in, pausing for a moment in the doorway, as if committing the scene before him to memory. Then he moved in that long legged stride of his, paused again before the chairs, then sat quickly, taking the right hand one of the three. Behind, and hurrying to catch up, came Dered and Dexel, so close their clothes were audibly rubbing together. They’d all changed out of the black hunting gear they had worn, and were once again dressed in voluminous costumes, especially Dexel. Both children dashed for the chair next to their father, Dered getting there first and pushing Dexel away as his rear hit the wood. Dexel pouted and crossed her arms, huffing loudly. At a look from their father, she quieted and sat in the third seat.

Casually, as though looking across the crowds on Petition day, the Underlord scanned the room. Twice his gaze crossed over Snowy and twice he felt a mixed twinge of fear and loathing for this…this toad of a man. Snowy vowed to learn more of the words Marsa didn’t allow him to say, if only to say them to the Underlord.

“Well,” The Underlord began, “What’s on today’s roll of business?” He looked at Snowy and Marsa in turn. “Ah yes, the runaway thief, and the thief master.”

Marsa and Snowy both tried to object, but the guards were expecting this, and heavy hands batted them into silence. His head rang with the blow, and a momentary dizziness passed through him. He’d had fights with the other boys, but their punches were mere scratches compared to this. He took a deep breath to steady himself and to clear his head. And also to let Marsa know he was fine.

“Yes,” the Underlord continued, ”a thief is someone who takes something that doesn’t belong to them, and you boy have taken two things that don’t belong to you. Firstly, the boat, which naturally belongs to me, and is of course useless now you have broken it. Secondly, Youself! Which also belongs to me. I bought you from your mother, paid for you with good coin. I’ve fed you and clothed you and kept you under the same roof as my own dear children.” He turned and smiled at his offspring.

“And you, Woman.” He glared at Marsa. “If the boy belongs to me, and you took him, then you stole him from me. And of course there’s the boat. Which you helped him steal. Now, what are we to do with you?” He leaned forward in his chair and smiled at each in turn, like a father scolding his children for some petty incident.

“It seems to me, boy, that you wish to leave here. I’m hurt by that, I can’t think why you would want to, but there’s no pleasing some people. And you woman. You wish to leave too. Well, so be it. You may leave, both of you.”

Snowy looked up in surprise as Marsa gasped. Snowy sighed in relief. Marsa had worried over nothing. The Lords didn’t own people, they could go where they wanted. Snowy glanced over at Marsa, the guard even allowed that, a small smile on his face. But she was pale, her hands, still bound, clasped so tightly her flesh was white. A bubble of worry grew in his stomach. Worry turned to fear as he realised the Underlord hadn’t finished with them yet.

“You woman, after thirty laps of the castle. And you boy, after paying off what you owe me.” He sat back and crossed his long legs.

They both looked at him, and finally he said to Snowy, “Speak.”

“I don’t have any coin my Underlord, and I don’t have a Skill to earn any.”

“You should have thought of that before. We’ll just have to come to some agreement. I have a service you can provide for me, it doesn’t take much skill, although we’ll need to clean you up and dress you better.” He looked at Dered and laughed. Dered joined in, his cruel laughter a younger version of his father’s.

Marsa cried out suddenly, “Please my Underlord no, anything but that.” The guard behind her grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She squealed in pain.

Snowy tried to stand and rush to her, but his legs were numb and the guard behind too quick. Another blow, harder this time, sent his head spinning and his body to the floor.

Looking at Marsa now, the Underlord gestured for her to speak.

Her voice was cracked with emotion as she tried to speak. “Please, Underlord, please, let him go, I’ll stay, I’ll do anything you ask. Just please let him go, I’ll pay back all he owes, I promise on my Anima.”

“But I don’t want you Marsa, I can get a cook from anywhere, I do need a young boy. He’s a handsome lad, pale skin, blonde hair, cute, in the way my guests sometimes find appealing. I can’t offer a wrinkled old harridan to His Grace, now can I?”

“You cruel…” Marsa surged forwards with a ripping sound, the guard was left staring wide eyed at a handful of grey hair as Marsa launched herself at the Underlord. Snowy was too dazed to help. He tried to stand, he called out for her to stop, but the words came out blurred. He could do nothing but watch as she flailed her fists, stumbling towards her target, pursued by two of the guards.

The Underlord let her approach to within a few steps, then he stood and drove his fist straight into her face. There was the crack of bone, a faint cry of pain. Her head was driven backwards by the force. As her head returned upright her knees gave and she fell to the ground, crumpling up one joint at a time.

Snowy screamed something incoherent. She was dead, he knew it, and he would kill the Underlord or die trying. His legs seemed boneless as he tried to stand, thoughts spun around in his head and a slight double image blurred his vision. Unable to stand he began to crawl, shouting and crying as he pulled himself along. The guards did nothing to stop him as he worked his way towards Marsa.

The Underlord was suddenly looming over him. “She’s not dead you stupid little boy, she’s only unconscious. Now shut up you little maggot, stop whining, you sound like a baby.”

The long legs moved away from him. With an effort of will, Snowy stopped himself from crying. She’s not dead, he thought to himself, just knocked out like that forest worker when a branch fell on him. He wasn’t totally convinced, but it helped a little. When he had enough breath, he pulled himself up into a sitting position and tried to clear his head. A groan from Marsa caused him to turn around too quickly and his head spun again, making his belly threaten to rise.

“See, she’s alive, but she may wish otherwise tomorrow."

Rough hands lifted Snowy and carried him from the hall. He tried to protest, he wanted to be with Marsa, but he was exhausted. Physically and mentally. Never before had his young body and mind experienced anything like this. He had lived in a cocoon woven by the hand of Marsa. She had watched over him, kept him from harm all his life. He’d hardly had to work, always got the best portions of food and was never cold or wet for very long. Now the cocoon had split, and the ugly world he had avoided so long was reaching in.

Deep inside him, like a tiny seed, the beginnings of a mighty anger formed, right there as he hung between two of the Underlord’s guards.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three - Vikta