Chapter 85: The Flight Begins
The horses' hooves pounded against forest earth like a desperate heartbeat.
Behind us—distant but gaining—the sound of Nilfgaardian cavalry. Twenty riders, maybe more, following the magical signature that Ciri's beacon had broadcast across kilometers of forest. The pulse had been necessary to find her, but now it served as a beacon for enemies as effectively as it had served me.
"They're closing," Sera reported, glancing back through the trees. "Maybe two kilometers. Gaining steadily."
I ran the calculations while guiding my horse around a fallen log. Our mounts were good—purchased during war preparation specifically for this kind of situation—but Ciri rode double with Sera, slowing their horse significantly. The Nilfgaardians were fresh, their horses unburdened by exhausted passengers.
Ninety minutes until they overtook us. Maybe less if their horses were better than I estimated.
"Thirty-five kilometers to the safe house. At current pace, three hours of riding. We don't have three hours."
Shadow Step activated, carrying me ten meters sideways to a position beside the trail.
[ENERGY: 700/5,000]
[Warning: Critical energy reserves]
I scattered caltrops across the path—metal spikes that would lame pursuing horses, buying minutes at the cost of mounts that had done nothing wrong. The action felt necessary and cruel simultaneously.
Back on my horse before the team passed, rejoining the flight without breaking stride.
"What did you do?" Mira called.
"Bought time. Keep moving."
Twenty minutes later, the horses needed breathing time or they'd collapse.
We stopped in a clearing, the animals heaving with exhaustion, their coats dark with sweat. The pursuit sounds had faded temporarily—the caltrops had worked, or they'd paused to tend wounded mounts.
Ciri slid off Sera's horse with the ungainly movement of someone who'd been riding too long on too little sleep. Her face was pale, grief and exhaustion combining into expression that made her look older than fourteen.
"We can't keep running forever," she said, her voice cracking. "They'll catch us eventually."
"We don't need forever. Just thirty-five kilometers." I checked the horses' conditions with Resource Scanner—stressed but functional, capable of continuing after brief rest. "There's a safe house prepared. Supplies, defensible position, hidden from casual search."
"Prepared by who?"
"By me. Months ago, during war preparation."
Her eyes—green, too sharp for someone her age—fixed on me with intensity that demanded answers.
"How did you find me? Why were you looking?"
"Ciri—"
"No. I need to know. My guards are dead. My grandmother is dead. My kingdom is gone. And you—" She gestured at me, at the team, at the professional rescue operation that had materialized from nowhere. "You were positioned perfectly. You had the beacon waiting. You've been... investing in me for two years. Why?"
The questions deserved answers. But answers required time we didn't have.
"I knew Cintra would fall. I gave you that beacon for this exact situation. You matter more than you know—more than anyone except maybe a few people realize." I met her eyes directly, offering honesty within limits I couldn't cross. "I saw patterns others ignored. I prepared for outcomes nobody wanted to believe. And I was right about all of it."
"How did you know about the fall? The letter you sent my grandmother—she dismissed it as paranoia."
"She dismissed it because believing would have required her to admit vulnerability." The frustration leaked through despite effort to control it. "I'm not a seer. I'm someone who pays attention to evidence and acts on what I see rather than what I want to believe."
"That's not the whole—"
"Later." I cut her off more sharply than intended. "Right now, staying alive matters more than explanations. When we reach safety, when pursuit isn't behind us, I'll answer everything I can. But now we ride."
She accepted the deflection reluctantly, climbing back onto Sera's horse with assistance. Her questions would return—she was too intelligent to let them go—but survival came first.
Twelve kilometers from the safe house, the terrain offered opportunity.
The forest funneled into a narrow pass—rocky walls rising on both sides, the path barely wide enough for two horses abreast. Natural chokepoint that cavalry couldn't bypass.
"We stop here," I announced, dismounting quickly. "Set ambush instead of pure flight."
"Against twenty riders?" Marcus's voice carried professional concern rather than objection. "That's not ambush odds."
"We're not fighting twenty riders. We're collapsing the pass behind us." I pointed to the rock formations above. "Mira, can you destabilize that section? Make it fall on command?"
She studied the geology with mage's attention. "Minor earth magic, combined with physical leverage... yes. Given fifteen minutes to prepare."
"You have ten. Everyone else, find positions. We hit the lead riders when they enter, trigger the collapse, and run while they're blocked."
The team moved with coordinated efficiency—fighters positioning for initial strike, Sera climbing to observation point, Mira beginning the delicate work of preparing controlled rockslide.
Ciri watched everything with expression that mixed fear and fascination.
"This is military operation. Real military operation."
"We've had practice. War creates opportunities to learn." I handed her a crossbow from our supplies. "Can you use this?"
"I've trained with—"
"Can you hit something at twenty meters while scared?"
She considered the question honestly. "I don't know."
"Then stay behind cover and don't shoot unless I tell you to. Last thing we need is friendly fire." I positioned her behind a boulder that would protect against return fire. "If everything goes wrong, run north. Don't stop until you reach the safe house—abandoned lodge, thirty-five kilometers along this path."
"And leave you behind?"
"If necessary. Your survival matters more than ours."
The words were true and clearly unsettling to her. She started to argue, but Sera's signal cut off the conversation.
"Pursuit approaching. Two minutes."
The Nilfgaardian cavalry entered the pass at cautious trot—professionals who recognized dangerous terrain.
Too cautious. They should have been moving faster, accepting risk in exchange for closing distance on fleeing quarry. Their caution gave us precious seconds.
I counted riders as they filed into the chokepoint. Eight. Twelve. Fifteen. The pass couldn't hold more than fifteen at once, the rest waiting behind for space to enter.
"Now."
Marcus and Kell rose from concealment, crossbow bolts taking down the two lead riders before anyone could react. The Nilfgaardian formation erupted into chaos—horses rearing, soldiers drawing weapons, voices shouting commands that collided with each other.
"Mira!"
Her spell triggered the prepared collapse. The rock formation above the pass—weakened by magic, loosened by carefully positioned ropes—came crashing down in avalanche of stone and dust.
Three riders were caught directly under the fall. Their screams cut off as boulders crushed them. Others scrambled backward, horses panicking at the destruction, the narrow pass becoming death trap that they'd entered willingly.
The rockslide blocked the path completely—tons of stone filling the chokepoint, creating barrier that would take hours to clear.
"Move!" I ordered. "Twenty-minute lead, make it count!"
We sprinted for our horses, mounted, and fled north while Nilfgaardian curses echoed behind us.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: PURSUIT DELAYED]
[Estimated Delay: 45-90 minutes (obstruction clearing)]
[Distance to Safe House: 23 kilometers]
[Current Pace: Safe arrival probable]
The abandoned hunter's lodge appeared through the trees like a promise of rest.
I'd selected this location during war preparation—isolated, defensible, stocked with supplies that could sustain a small group for weeks. The building was weathered but solid, its stone construction providing protection that wooden structures couldn't match.
"Secure the perimeter," I ordered, dismounting outside the lodge. "Marcus, Kell—check the structure. Sera, observation position on the ridge. Mira, verify the wards are intact."
The team dispersed to assigned tasks. Ciri stood beside the horses, watching the coordinated activity with expression that had shifted from fear to something like awe.
"You prepared this. All of this."
"I prepared a lot of things. Most of it sits unused—supply caches, evacuation routes, contingency plans. This is one of the pieces that turned out necessary."
"How long have you been preparing?"
"For this specifically? About three years." I guided her toward the lodge entrance. "For war in general? Since I understood war was coming."
"Three years ago, you were... what, sixteen?"
"Fifteen. Starting a guild with nothing, building toward something that might matter." The lodge interior was dusty but intact, supplies cached in hidden compartments that Resource Scanner verified remained untouched. "I didn't know I'd be rescuing Cintran princesses then. But I knew I wanted to help people when helping became difficult."
She entered the lodge slowly, taking in the sparse furnishings—bunks for sleeping, table for planning, storage for supplies. Functional rather than comfortable.
"You really did warn my grandmother."
"I sent detailed intelligence reports. Timeline estimates. Strategic recommendations." I began unpacking supplies, distributing them for immediate access. "She thanked me politely and dismissed everything. Said peace treaties ensured stability."
"She was proud."
"She was wrong. Pride killed her. I'd rather she'd been right."
Ciri's composure cracked slightly—the reminder of her grandmother's death breaking through whatever defenses she'd constructed during the flight.
"She stayed to buy me time. She died so I could run."
"She died doing what she chose to do. Defending her kingdom, protecting her granddaughter. That's not nothing."
"It feels like nothing. It feels like—" She stopped, unable to find words for what it felt like.
"I know. Or at least, I can imagine." I set down the supplies I'd been sorting. "Sleep if you can. Eat something first. We stay here two days before moving to more secure location."
"Two days?"
"The pursuit will assume we fled farther, faster. They'll widen their search grid rather than concentrating here. By the time they realize their mistake, we'll be moving again."
She nodded, accepting the tactical logic without fully processing it. Exhaustion was claiming her—physical and emotional reserves finally depleting now that immediate danger had passed.
Mira appeared at the lodge entrance. "Wards are intact. No sign of recent intrusion."
"Good. First watch starts now. Four-hour rotations until we're confident pursuit has moved on."
The team settled into established routines—security protocols developed through years of operations, applied now to protecting the most important person any of us had ever been responsible for.
Ciri collapsed onto one of the bunks, asleep within minutes.
I watched her for a moment—the ashen hair, the young face marked by grief that shouldn't have arrived for decades yet. The girl who would matter more to this world than she could possibly understand.
"She's safe. For now. Whatever comes next, she's safe for now."
The satisfaction was genuine, even amid the exhaustion and lingering fear. Three years of preparation had led to this moment, and the moment had worked.
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