Chapter 17: A Narrow Escape

The quiet of the cave had been shattered by Garrick's warning. The men were quickly gathering their supplies, readying themselves to move again. Their faces were pale with exhaustion, but their resolve was unwavering. Akin could feel the tension in the air as they prepared to leave, their eyes scanning the dense forest that surrounded them for any sign of the enemy.

Akin stood by the entrance of the cave, his injured arm still throbbing from the wound he'd sustained during the battle. He could feel the weight of his sword pulling at his side, but the pain didn't matter. What mattered was getting his men out of there alive.

Garrick returned, his spear in hand, his sharp eyes scanning the trees. "We've spotted movement to the south, near the river," he said, his voice low but urgent. "It's likely a scouting party. If we don't leave now, they'll catch up to us."

Akin nodded, his jaw clenched. "We can't afford another fight, not in this condition. We'll move west, toward the mountains. There are paths there that might slow them down."

"The mountains?" Garrick raised an eyebrow, glancing at the men who were hurriedly packing up. "It's rough terrain, Akin. If we get trapped up there…"

"It's better than staying here," Akin replied. "We don't have a choice. We have to keep moving."

Garrick hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I'll lead the way."

The men finished their preparations in silence, their movements quick but quiet. The forest around them seemed to close in, the shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Akin could feel the weight of the impending danger pressing down on him, but he refused to let it show. His men needed him to be strong, to lead them through this.

As they set off into the woods, Akin took up the rear, his eyes constantly scanning the trees behind them. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig made his heart race, but he forced himself to remain calm. The enemy was out there, somewhere, but he couldn't let fear control him.

The forest was dense, the underbrush thick with ferns and twisted roots that threatened to trip them up at every turn. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for two men to walk side by side. Akin could hear the labored breathing of his men, the exhaustion in their steps, but they pressed on without complaint.

Garrick led them with a steady hand, his spear cutting through the brush as they moved westward, toward the mountains that loomed in the distance. The terrain was unforgiving, but it offered the only chance of escape. Akin could only hope that the rebels wouldn't be able to follow them through the rocky paths.

After what felt like hours of marching, they reached the base of the mountains. The ground here was uneven, the rocky slopes rising steeply above them. The air was thinner, colder, and the wind whipped through the trees with a biting chill.

Akin paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The forest stretched out behind them, dark and foreboding. He could no longer hear the sound of the river or the distant beat of the rebel drums, but he knew they were still out there, searching for them.

"We'll climb," Akin said, his voice steady as he turned to the men. "The higher we go, the harder it will be for them to follow."

The men nodded, though their exhaustion was evident in the slump of their shoulders and the sweat on their brows. Garrick led the way again, this time taking them up a narrow, winding path that zigzagged along the side of the mountain. The rocks were jagged and loose, and more than once, a soldier stumbled, sending small stones tumbling down the slope.

Akin stayed at the rear, his injured arm aching with every step. He kept his eyes on the men, watching for any signs of weakness, but they continued on, their determination pushing them forward.

The climb was treacherous. The path was steep, and the wind seemed to grow stronger the higher they went, whipping their cloaks and rattling their armor. Akin could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the thin mountain air making it harder to breathe. But they couldn't stop. Not yet.

"We'll rest when we reach that outcrop," Garrick called back, pointing to a flat section of rock ahead.

Akin nodded, grateful for the chance to catch his breath. His legs burned from the climb, and the pain in his arm was becoming unbearable. But he pressed on, his eyes focused on the goal.

They reached the outcrop just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. The sky was dark now, the stars barely visible through the thick clouds that had gathered overhead. The men collapsed onto the rock, panting from the effort of the climb. Akin sank to his knees, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"We'll make camp here for the night," Akin said, his voice hoarse. "Get some rest. We'll need our strength for tomorrow."

The men nodded in weary agreement, grateful for the chance to rest. They set up a small camp, careful to keep the fires low to avoid attracting attention. Akin sat near the edge of the outcrop, his eyes scanning the forest below. The trees were a dark, impenetrable mass, but he knew the rebels were still out there, hunting them.

Garrick sat down beside him, his face etched with concern. "How's the arm?"

Akin glanced down at the makeshift bandage wrapped around his forearm. Blood had soaked through the cloth, staining it a deep red. The pain was a constant throb, but Akin had learned to ignore it.

"I'll manage," Akin replied, though his voice betrayed his exhaustion.

Garrick frowned but said nothing. He knew better than to argue with Akin when it came to matters of duty. Instead, he turned his gaze to the forest below.

"They'll find us eventually," Garrick said, his voice low. "We can't stay here long."

"I know," Akin replied. "But we need rest. The men won't last another day like this."

Garrick nodded, though the worry never left his face. "We'll leave at first light."

Akin leaned back against the cold stone, his mind racing. The rebellion was spreading faster than he had anticipated. House Vareen had made their move, and now it was only a matter of time before the other noble houses followed suit. They had already lost too many men, and the capital was vulnerable.

His thoughts drifted to his father, still recovering from his injuries in the capital, and to Seraphina, left behind in a city teetering on the edge of rebellion. He had promised his father he would protect them, but with every passing day, that promise felt harder to keep.

"I'll find a way," Akin muttered to himself, his jaw set with determination. "I won't let them win."

Garrick glanced at him, his brow furrowed. "What did you say?"

Akin shook his head. "Nothing. Get some rest. We'll need it."

Garrick gave him a nod before lying down on the cold stone, his spear resting by his side. Akin stayed awake, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

The night passed slowly, the cold seeping into Akin's bones as he kept watch. His mind refused to rest, the weight of the rebellion pressing down on him like a heavy cloak. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—something far worse than what they had already faced.

But for now, they were safe. For now, the rebels hadn't found them.

As the first light of dawn broke over the mountains, Akin stood, stretching his stiff limbs. His men were already stirring, their faces pale and tired but determined. They were ready to move again, ready to fight.

"We head for the western pass," Akin said, his voice firm as he addressed the group. "It's our best chance of avoiding the rebels. Stay sharp, stay close, and we'll make it through this."

With that, they set off once more, their steps heavy but resolute as they began the descent down the other side of the mountain.

But even as they moved, Akin couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The mountain air felt colder than before, and the shadows seemed longer, darker.

The rebels weren't far behind.