Chapter 10: Fugitives Wanted
Riverway was still screaming behind us when we reached the port.
People ran like ants with their nest kicked open. Steel flashed in the streets. Shouts climbed over each other. Somewhere, someone was already turning our names into coin.
The bloody cutter was gone.
Of course it was.
Rowanda swayed on her feet and stared at the empty water like she could force the boat to reappear by will alone.
"Stan," she said.
Her voice was weak. Too weak for a woman who'd just chopped heads in front of a city.
I turned, scanning the port. "Where the hell is Stan? He said he goes everywhere you go."
He wasn't there.
No shadow at her shoulder.
No watchful eyes.
No smug silence.
Obara laughed once, sharp and ugly. "Oh, you're so naive, blacksmith. Can't you see what happened? Stan betrayed us."
She pointed toward the river. "He's already been paid, I'll wager. And he left us behind."
It hit me like a cold splash.
I'd been so focused on the crowd, on the blades, on the fact that my own knife was back in my boot even after I'd thrown it…
I'd forgotten the simplest truth of all.
In a city of thieves, loyalty was just another thing you rented.
"We still have to leave," I said, forcing my voice steady. "Before this reaches the king."
As if the city needed my permission.
The bells began to ring.
High and furious.
The kind of ringing that wasn't warning.
It was announcement.
Obara's face tightened. "Seems the king already knows."
Rowanda's mismatched eyes narrowed, focus returning like a blade sliding back into a sheath.
"We're wanted," she said. "All of us."
She spat to the side.
"We go by land. We steal horses."
Steal.
Right.
So much for me not being a thief.
We took three horses from the edge of the port district, the kind tied up loose because Riverway assumed everyone was in a hurry and nobody bothered to lock anything properly.
We rode east out of the city.
Not on roads.
Roads were where people waited with rope and smiles.
We took the forests instead. Low branches, wet leaves, mud that swallowed hoofbeats. We moved like shadows and didn't speak unless we had to.
After a couple of hours, Rowanda's body finally admitted what her pride had been denying.
She sagged forward in the saddle.
Then slipped.
Then fainted like someone had cut her strings a second time.
"Rowanda!" Obara hissed, catching her before she hit the ground wrong.
We dragged her under a thick patch of trees, away from open sight.
Rowanda's armor was beautiful.
And useless.
Obara stripped it off fast, hands working like she'd done it before, like she'd undressed corpses in battlefields where nobody had time for modesty.
Rowanda's breathing was shallow.
Obara pressed her ear to Rowanda's chest, then sat back, face pale.
"Broken ribs," Obara whispered. "She's bleeding inside."
She looked at me with terrified eyes.
"This is bad. We need a physician. Now."
She swallowed.
"My hometown is only two miles from here."
Her mouth twisted like the words tasted bitter.
"I never thought I'd go back."
We didn't have a choice.
We rode hard and kept our heads down, slipping between narrow paths and quiet fences until the town appeared.
Small. Familiar in the way a wound is familiar.
Obara led us to a low building with a crooked door.
She knocked once.
Then twice.
A man opened it just enough to see our faces.
He didn't ask names.
He didn't ask questions.
He only looked at Rowanda's condition and stepped aside.
Inside, the air smelled like herbs and old iron.
The physician worked fast. Too fast. Like he'd patched up fugitives before and didn't want to meet their eyes long enough to remember them.
When he was done, Rowanda breathed easier, but she didn't wake. Her skin was greyish under the warm light.
We carried her back out into the street as quietly as we could.
The physician followed us to the door and finally spoke.
"Beware," he said.
His voice was calm, which somehow made it worse.
"There's a bounty on your heads."
Obara's shoulders stiffened.
"Ten thousand gold pieces for the lady I just patched up," the physician continued. "Five thousand for you, Obara."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"Oh yes. I remember you, young one. Plus the two thousand from six years ago."
Obara's jaw tightened like she wanted to deny it.
The physician didn't let her.
"And three thousand for you," he said, looking at me.
I blinked.
Then found my outrage. "What? I killed a giant and all I'm worth is three thousand gold pieces? Am I a joke?"
The physician stared at me like I was the joke.
"Three thousand silver pieces," he corrected.
My mouth opened.
Then closed.
"What?" I managed.
"Nobody knows who you are, young man," he said, voice flat. "But I'm guessing that's about to change if you keep traveling with those ladies."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice just a touch.
"You should leave. Now."
We didn't even make it to the edge of town before a kid spotted us.
He pointed like he'd just found treasure.
Behind him, five men in armor approached, walking too confidently for men who hadn't seen what we'd seen.
Obara clicked her tongue. "Fast hands. Faster tongues."
Rowanda was still unconscious. She couldn't swing. Couldn't threaten. Couldn't even stand.
So it was just us.
Me and Obara.
The men drew steel.
They died bravely.
And quickly.
Afterward, the street went quiet in that way towns do when they decide they've seen enough blood for one day.
We didn't stay to count bodies.
We didn't stay to explain.
We didn't stay to feel anything.
We took the forest again, pulling Rowanda along with us like a debt.
And as the town vanished behind the trees, I realized something that made my stomach sink.
Riverway wasn't letting us go.
Not really.
Not anymore.
We were fugitives now.
And the road home had teeth.