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Chapter 12


      Aside from the occasional distant passerby, Altan and Griffins journey to Crags Fort remained refreshingly uneventful. Altan complained for the first hour of dawn, both about how early it was and about the bruises and scratches littering his body from their sparring the previous night. Griffin insisted Altan learn to wield a sword with at least mediocre skill, delivering an annoying platter of comments about how this place was dangerous, he had to learn to fend for himself, and blah blah blah. The conversation dwindled after that, but the wall of silence that normally stood between them began to erode, and they chatted intermittently.
      "So... if Centurion is so bad, isn't there, like, a rebellion or something?" Altan had questioned through a mouthful of dried berries.
        "No."
         Altan swallowed. "Why?"
         "A rebellion implies a gathering of people with a decent moral compass. The ruthlessness and cruelty of Centurion and his men are more than enough to crush the spirit of any do-gooders. They simply cannot compete." Masked venom dripped from his words, "Everyone is too soft to actually follow through with what needs to be done."
       "Oh."
       The wall rose again.
       At noon they stopped by a small creek nestled against the base of a small hill, well out of view of the main road. Though he wouldn't show it, Altan was secretly thankful for a chance to sit down, wincing as a stab of pain shot through his calves and thighs. He sat on his ankles, huffing in pain as he leaned back to stretch out his tight, rapidly growing shin splints. Griffin kneeled by the trickling water, scanning it with a clearly practiced eye. Satisfied, he dipped the two water skins he bought at Wilders Edge into the liquid, though Altan guessed he could probably just use some weird magic to make the water clean if it hadn't been. It was kind of annoying how much of a try-hard he was all the time. Shortly after, he goaded Altan into another sword fight, instructing and demonstrating as he guided Altan through various basic movements and combinations. Altan drank up the pride he felt when Griffin commented, with a barely contained impressed look, that he had a pretty natural aptitude for it.
  "I know," he smirked, "I'm just a natural at everything I guess."
         Griffin quirked an eyebrow at him. The next bought Altan lasted a whole ten seconds before his sword was splashing into the creek. Griffin held the point of his sword against Altans chest, looking at him, then to the creek, then back at him. Memories of their escape down the waterfall three nights ago surfaced. A tiny smile tugged at Griffins lips as he stood back, the sword falling to his side.
"Everything but swimming."
Altan laughed.

* * *

As the massive walls protecting Crags Fort loomed closer and closer, Altan tried to keep his shot nerves under check. It wasnt long into evening but the sunset was barricaded by the Splinterback Ridge, drawing long dark curtains over the land. The dozens of patrolling guards with their shadowy armour atop the towering walls blended into the rock. He gripped his cloak so it wrapped tighter around his form, less billowy, less noticeable. Forcing himself to breath, Altan darted forward. He was a shadow in the night, though decidedly more noisy, scampering forward until his back was pressed to the cool surface of gritty stone bricks. He exhaled heavily, every inch of his body alive and tingling. Why am I doing this?
      He turned, sliding towards where two black-clad guards barred the large gateway. Every footfall was placed with care, toeing around any twigs or loose rock that could betray him. This is stupid.
       He screwed his eyes shut, attempting to gulp down the dry knot in his throat. I'm going to die.
       And then he ran.
   He made a show of his presence, deliberately slowing his pace as he stumbled in front of the guards, then rapidly speeding up as they shouted after him. His heart hammered in tandem to his pumping legs, and he didn't dare look back, praying both of them were chasing him. Swords hissing from their sheaths and the thunk thunk of arrows into sod motivated Altan to run that much faster. He nearly lost his footing when a blast of chaotic magical energy blasted into the ground on his right, but the threat of death on his heels kept him moving. Despite the darkness, Altan exhibited no restraint in sprinting into a small wooded area outside the city walls. The guards followed hot on his heels as he slid, pivoted, and switched direction cutting sharp to the left behind a copse of bushes.
"Kinundito Stabit."
Suddenly the guards skidded to a stop. Soft moonlight glinted off their blades as they fell to the ground, each of them raising their hands to grasp desperately at their throats. Altan heard one of the guards try to whisper what he assumed to be some sort of magical incantation, but all that came out was pitifully silent choking noises. The other guard had managed to prop himself onto one knee. He managed to get his helmet off but it didn't help. Altans heart hammered in his ears.
       Griffin stepped calmly out from behind a large bush, golden eyes boring into the guards, one hand extended, fingers in an open grasp. Altan saw the eyes of the guard who had removed his helmet flash with surprise and fear momentarily. Then, they began to roll back into his head.
The guard on the ground made a shaky attempt for his sword, but Griffin clutched his fist completely, and seconds later they both laid unmoving in crumpled metal heaps on the ground. Altan tried not to think too much about it, pushing the images of the panic and pleading in their eyes into the darkest corners of his memory. Griffin held his fist there for a few seconds more, before he finally dropped his arm with a huff. He didn't look at Altan as he strode past, kneeling down beside the nearest of the two guards and beginning to fuss with the body.
"Splendid work." Griffin offered over his shoulder.
Altan felt too unnerved to respond. He told himself it was because he'd just risked his neck and got chased down by two merciless guards and not because he just watched Griffin strangle them to death in seconds without laying a single finger on them.
Ten minutes later and they were making their way purposefully back towards the gate, clad head to toe in sleek black armor. They left almost everything behind, including their cloaks and what little else Griffin had been carrying in his recently purchased bag. What a waste.
     Altan swapped the steel sword he'd been training with for one of the guards, a long silver sword clearly of a much better make. Griffin kept his own, concealing its blatantly unique design by altering the soldiers sheath with magic so it fit his own sword snugly. He cast the spell again that masked his glowing eyes, and they both pulled down the visors on their helmets to hide their features. They feigned calmness as three guards came rushing towards the gate, swords drawn. The one in front, a shorter girl with a peppy step, stepped forward to meet them. She had bolts of chaotic red energy dancing between her fingers and up her forearms. She flipped her visor up to examine them, an equally wild look residing in her eyes.
"What was the yelling for?" She demanded, addressed to Altan.
"I-"
"Do I need to alert the others? Are there intruders?"
"Relax, Audrey." That was one of the other guards. "Let him speak."
Griffin piped up, butting in before Altan could even have a chance to fumble the delicate situation. "Just another runner." He spoke a lot less eloquently than normal. "Didn't make it very far."
"Right." Audrey laughed, visibly calming, "They just don't learn, do they? You'd think the public executions would knock some sense into them but..."
"Common sense seems to be something these... vermin... lack." Griffin agreed.
Altan stayed silent as Griffin and the three guards exchanged a few more words. Eventually, after Griffin again assured them the problem had been handled, they dismissed themselves, stalking back into Crags Fort. As per the plan, Griffin and Altan took post at the gate, pretending to stand guard. For what ended up being a very long, uneventful, hour standing motionless at the gate Altan found himself resentful of the unease that squeezed his throat. Eventually, the next shift of guards greeted them with rehearsed pleasantries and tired eyes. They swapped positions without further conversation, and Altan breathed a private sigh of relief as they turned away. Then he, and Griffin, walked unchallenged into Crags Fort.

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