20A/N: I know, right? As soon as I say I'll update weekly on Tuesdays, I go and break my promise. BUT… I have a good excuse. I've been snowed under by work lately and I'd only just managed to dig my way out of there when my brother broke his wrist and everything got a bit hectic. Anyway, here's the chapter. Hope it clears up some questions from a few reviewers (you know who you are).
"Why?"
The faces swam before her, sad and angry and fearful all at the same time. She tried to hide from them, closing her eyes, but their eyes drilled into her eyelids and sat there accusingly.
She was burning, all over. Her skin was alight with searing heat, and she wasn't sure how. How could she be this hot? It felt as if she had been plunged into a fire, but the flames weren't hurting her. Instead, they were almost calming, like the sound of an old friend's voice…
"You killed me," said one of the soldiers. He looked terrified of her. "You took my dagger and you killed me while I slept. How low can you get?"
"You would have taken me to the Empire!" she argued. "I didn't want to kill you!"
There was hard ground beneath her back, and fresh, soothing air whispering to her skin, trying in vain to cool her down…
The soldier who had pitied her shook his head. "I had a wife and three children, you know," he told her. "My eldest was only a few years younger than you. You reminded me of her so much, and yet you killed me."
Tears were dripping down her face at this point. "I'm sorry!" she told them. "I'm so sorry I killed you!"
"Being sorry will not stop us from haunting you," spat the leader. "You're a liar and a thief and a murderer."
There was a hand pressing something cold and damp against her forehead, but she didn't know who it was. Her father? No, he was dead, cut down by the Empire's soldiers or burned to a crisp in fire. He had left her alone to fend for herself, when she was clearly out of her depth. Who was it?
"I'm sorry!" she told them. "I wish there was another way!"
What was he doing? He didn't get involved in things like this. He never rescued anyone, not like this. She'd slow him down – it was better to leave her where she had been. She was delirious – that just complicated things even further. How could he expect to keep himself alive long enough to get out of the Empire if he was held back by a girl with delirium?
He sighed, and pressed the damp cloth to her forehead again. She was mumbling, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. It sounded almost as if she were apologizing. He wondered what – or who – she was hallucinating about. Obviously she had done something wrong, but who to? Had she stolen something? It must have been fairly important if there had been Imperial soldiers after her. But at the same time, she didn't look like a thief, and he would have heard if there were something the Empire wanted.
She let out a particularly pained whimper, and suddenly the fire, which had been slowly dying down, lit up again, sending a single flame higher than it should have been. He frowned – he hadn't added anything to it in a long time… so why was it suddenly starting up again?
It died down as quickly as it had started, and he looked back at the girl, who had fallen into a deeper, calmer, sleep, and sighed heavily. What was he getting himself into?
Lianne woke to a distinct crackling sound, and the scent of smoke. She blearily opened her eyes, desperately trying to defeat the protests that her body was making. Deciding that she would listen to her body for once, she closed her eyes again and, smiling, sank into the welcoming depths of deep, dreamless sleep. It was only as she let her battered body relax that she realised that she couldn't remember lighting a fire. Indeed, she couldn't remember setting up any sort of camp at all. The rapid, oncoming knowledge made her open her eyes again, but this time she was alert and suspicious. She sat up, and immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her.
"Lie back down," commanded a low masculine voice. "You'll undo all my good work."
She obeyed reluctantly. "Who are you?"
Where was the letter?
The thought made her sit up again, and as the dizziness crashed upon her once again, she fought it off, and searched for her small bag. Looking up, she saw a young man, probably only about a year older than she was, sitting with a sheathed sword and a longbow near her side of the fire and watching her with an expression on his face that she couldn't quite define. He was certainly handsome in a dark, brooding sort of way, with grey eyes and brown hair and an air of cynicism wrapped about him like the cloak he wore, as if he didn't quite trust the entire world around him. "Who are you?" she repeated.
"Murtagh." His reply was short, brusque, and he sounded like he regretted something – perhaps he hadn't wanted to rescue her. No, she could tell that it ran much deeper than that. What was it? "And your name?
"Lianne," she replied, cautiously. She spotted a small loaf of bread next to him, and eyed it hungrily.
He noticed, and broke some off and offered it to her. "You want some? Here, take it."
She nodded, and accepted the bread, devouring it within seconds. He seemed somewhat amused by her actions, and offered her some more. "Don't eat it all at once," he told her. "How long is it since you last ate?"
"A while," she replied, taking another bite out of the bread. "Quite a while." She moved suddenly. "Have you got my bag?" she asked, accusingly.
He dangled it in front of her. "Odd combination of belongings," he commented, and handed it to her. She opened it and found both the waterskin and the letter sitting there. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Did you drug those soldiers?" he asked.
She looked up, and her head span again. "It wasn't my doing."
"Don't lie. They were drugged – any fool can see that. Not to mention your mead is obviously drugged. I'm surprised they didn't notice. Then again, the Empire's soldiers aren't usually the brightest people in Alagaësia."
She coloured slightly. "It really wasn't my doing. I didn't know the mead was drugged until I saw them drink it."
Murtagh seemed to regard her curiously. "So you've not drunk it?"
She shook her head, and then stopped. "Why are you asking me all these questions? Who are you, anyway?"
"I told you – I'm Murtagh. As for why I'm asking you questions… Well, any fool knows not to trust someone who killed six Imperial soldiers with some drugged mead."
Lianne bit her lip and looked away. "I didn't want to kill them," she murmured. "I really didn't want to."
Murtagh nodded. "No. You don't seem like the kind of person that enjoys killing."
"I haven't ever killed anyone before," she retorted. "And while we're asking questions, why did you help me?"
He shrugged. "I saw the dead soldiers. Decided I probably owed you a favour. If you hadn't killed them, I would have had to. You know that someone will notice that four Imperial soldiers are dead, don't you?"
Lianne looked at him, horrified. "What?"
"Four soldiers are sent out, presumably to find someone, and you kill them. Someone will notice when they don't report back to their commander."
Lianne began to panic. If the Empire went looking, they'd find the bodies of the dead soldiers. If they found the bodies, they'd find her tracks. And then they'd find her. And then they'd find the letter, and this time they wouldn't hesitate in killing her. What was she going to do? "Why are you telling me this?" she demanded.
"So you know what you've done. The only chance you've got is to go somewhere they won't find you."
"What if they find the bodies?"
"They won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I took care of it."
"But why are you helping me? What does it matter to you if the Empire's soldiers are around here?"
"Because I'm like you. I'm running away from the Empire." He paused, and when it seemed she was satisfied with his explanation, or at least unwilling to press the subject further, he gestured to the blankets that lay around her. "You should rest. You've been fairly ill."
She shook her head. "Have you got some water? I'm thirsty."
He handed her a waterskin. "Here. It's got water in it – and it's not drugged."
She took a few sips of the water and swallowed, enjoying the cool, fresh feel of it. She handed the waterskin back, and smiled gratefully. Lying back down, she turned on her side to watch him. "Can you read?" she asked.
He seemed taken aback by the odd question. "Yes," he answered uncertainly. "Why?"
"Will you teach me?" she asked.
"Is this something to do with that letter of yours?" he asked, catching on.
There was no point saying that she didn't have a letter, because he had seen it. He didn't know what was in it, though. Nor did she. "Will you teach me?" she repeated.
"Fine. Now, go to sleep."
She closed her eyes, satisfied that some part of her mission was being fulfilled. What did the letter contain? she wondered. What secret had her father entrusted to her? "Murtagh?" she called, suddenly remembering something.
"What is it now?" he asked, sounding exasperated.
"Thank you."
There was a long moment of silence, before he answered, sounding extremely uncertain about his words. "You're… welcome."
A/N: Please review! I promise (cross my heart) that next week, I will not be so slack with updates!