Horizon of War Series

Chapter 12

Tall trees with lush leaves and sturdy branches painted the backdrop as the trio ventured deeper into the forest. The undergrowth was teeming with bright green ferns, mosses, and shrubs that carpeted the forest floor. Max led the way, with Theo and Lansius following closely behind. Their only guide was to keep the river on their right.

Despite having trekked for some time, they had yet to encounter anything suspicious. This lack of threat emboldened Max to look for a shallow spot to cross the river.

Recognizing Max’s intent as he steered them closer to the river, Lansius voiced his concern. “Max, I think we should walk farther before attempting to cross.”

Max halted, catching his breath. “We’ll get too tired if we walk farther.”

“The sooner we cross, the better,” Theo chimed in.

Lansius nodded. He didn’t want to stall progress with a debate. Thus, they continued alongside the river until they found a suitable spot with jutting boulders.

Max was the first to wade into the water. He made steady progress initially but then suddenly found himself submerged up to his chest.

The other two could only exchange glances as a soaked Max returned. Taking over Max’s bag, they continued their search along the riverbank. Before they knew it, they stumbled upon a potential solution.

Theo spotted a run-down hut not far from the river. Next to it, a piece of a canoe jutted out from overgrown shrubs. Hopeful, they jogged over to inspect the boat. It was old and decayed but, crucially, didn’t have a gaping hole. Max and Lansius cleared the debris from the small boat while Theo investigated the hut.

Max looked at Lansius, who nodded and replied, “This might just do the job.”

Together, they lifted the small wooden canoe into the river. Despite their panting and heaving, they were elated when the old boat floated without leaking much.

With help from the others, Max climbed aboard with an equally weathered oar, followed by Theo. The boat wobbled precariously.

“If we all get in, this thing will capsize,” Lansius warned.

“What should we do then?” Theo asked.

“You go first with Theo and come back for me later,” Lansius suggested.

“Okay, just wait here.” Max began to row, unsteadily at first.

Lansius stood back and watched, a smile tugging at his lips as Max grappled with the oar. The boat drifted aimlessly at first, but Max was starting to get the hang of it.

The emerging sun cast beautiful reflections on the water’s surface. Max was making good progress when he abruptly stopped and lurched forward. Theo quickly steadied his friend before shouting and waving at Lansius.

Lansius couldn’t make out what Theo was saying due to the river’s noise. He initially thought Max had grown weary from rowing, but then he spotted a blot of red on Max’s tunic. He instinctively ducked and scanned the area in terror.

Confirming his fear, a silvery object darted again toward the boat, striking its side.

Crossbowman?!

Lansius scanned the area where the threat had come from, half expecting another bolt to be loosed in his direction.

“Get the boys, kill them. They might be Maurice’s bastards!” a chilling voice echoed from the woods.

But the expected bolt didn’t come, and Lansius saw no one. His survival instincts surged, and he abandoned his friends, sprinting away from the riverbank as fast as he could.

He had left his spear behind, but he didn’t care. He ceased thinking and just urged his weary legs to keep moving. He slipped, crashed into a tree, then pushed off and continued to run. His left ankle twisted as it caught a tree root, sending him tumbling. But he got up and pressed on, delving deeper into the forest.

Lansius eventually came to a stop, collapsing in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. Exhaustion had finally caught up to him. He was drenched in sweat, and his body felt drained of strength. His limbs throbbed with every beat of his heart.

For a long while, he could do nothing but lie there, gasping for breath. He noticed the trees around him here were older, their bark a darker shade of brown. The ground beneath him was softer, the air thick with the smell of decomposing leaves.

The rustling leaves and branches above him created a serene soundscape, the sunlight and shadows dancing in a playful game. But all he could see were flashes of Max and Theo.

“Damn it . . .” he cursed, tears stinging his eyes.

He had known the boys for three whole days. They had traveled together, eaten together, slept side by side.

To think they have to die like that . . .

Overwhelmed by shock and grief, Lansius struggled to his feet. He was dizzy and in poor shape, but he had no other options. He clung to Thomas’s advice: Keep walking with the river to your right.

So, he pressed onward, alone, farther into the heart of the ancient forest.

The chirping of birds stirred Lansius from his restless slumber. He woke to find himself chilled and crawling with ants and insects. Groaning, he rose, shaking off the tiny invaders and even beating his clothes against a tree trunk to dislodge them.

Afterward, he staggered to the largest tree nearby, draping his blanket over one of its branches and settling down on a protruding root. He was consumed by exhaustion, his sleep cycle disrupted. His nights were sleepless and filled with fear. To make matters worse, his empty stomach churned, making him feel as if he might vomit at any moment.

The lightheadedness persisted, so he occupied himself by massaging his legs. His left ankle throbbed painfully, and his right knee was sore from numerous falls and slips. Even his shoes were beginning to fall apart.

This morning marked the third day Lansius had wandered alone. As his heart worked to pump blood into his weary head, he pulled out his traveling bag and rummaged through its contents. One by one, he put its contents into his lap: a piece of hard biscuit wrapped in linen, a wooden bowl and spoon, a tin cup, two small purple carrots, and a peculiar red fruit he had found but dared not to eat.

In his determination to not leave anything behind, he shook the bag, and a pouch tumbled out onto his lap. It was the money pouch, which he had kept in his bag due to its significant value. He had forgotten about it, and out of curiosity, he emptied it.

Gold, silver, and copper coins formed a small pile on his lap.

He picked up one of the gold coins, inspecting it closely.

How many months of work is one of these worth?

It was a rhetorical question, but he found the irony amusing and burst into laughter.

To think that I would die with six gold coins in my hand . . .

His laughter only served to worsen his pounding headache. Dizzy and starving, he glanced at his meager ration of hard biscuit, but knew it was too dry to eat without water. He reached for his water pouch and took a few sips, then bit off a small piece of biscuit, chewing it like an awful tasting candy.

He had less than a third of his water remaining. He knew he needed to find the river or some sort of creek. The problem lay therein. The previous day, he had bet on finding another village if he kept following the river, reasoning that most settlements were located near a water source. Ceresia farmland was near a river delta, Bellandia had a large creek, and Riverstead was flanked by three rivers.

However, he had underestimated the terrain. The river had become increasingly difficult to follow on foot, frequently disappearing into steep ravines or similarly impassable areas.

Yet, Lansius could still hear the distant murmur of the stream, providing a glimmer of hope. He looked at the sun, steeling himself for another exhausting journey. He knew there was no turning back; he didn’t have enough food to retrace his steps.

Now, it was either move forward or die trying. Aided by a walking stick he fashioned from a broken branch, he once again set out into the vast forest.

Lansius’s stomach churned. He felt so weak and famished that he felt like boiling some leaves or mushrooms. His lack of tools to start a fire was now his greatest regret. It had cost him dearly. Fire would help ward off the chilly nights and kept insects from crawling over him. But most importantly, the absence of fire limited him to the wild berries he dared to eat.

Hunger was all in his mind. Yesterday, he had eaten the last half of his hard biscuit.

Now, only a leftover carrot remained, but even after chewing it, he found little respite from his hunger. To make matters worse, his waterskin was nearly empty, as he still hadn’t located the river.

The sun was high on the horizon when he finally found the will to continue southward. His legs wobbled with exhaustion and fever seized him in waves, yet he trudged on almost mindlessly. He knew that if he didn’t find a settlement today, surviving tomorrow would be near impossible.

The terrain was unforgiving, forcing him to mind his steps on the moss-covered rocks, fallen branches, and overgrown shrubs. There was never a direct path. He constantly had to adapt and navigate when the terrain became too treacherous.

By midday, his stamina had dwindled to the point that he needed to lean on a large branch for support. The dizziness persisted, and he slumped to the forest floor. He reached for the last piece of food he had, a fruit resembling a red mango.

With his left hand, he unsheathed his knife and inspected the short blade. But instead of using it to cut the fruit, the sharp edge seemed to beckon him.

After days of wandering alone in the wilderness, he questioned his own sanity. He tried to soothe his racing thoughts, but feverish images persisted.

Stefi, Jan . . . Thomas, Max, Theo, Miranda . . .

Lansius recalled their faces and exhaled deeply. Half of him felt so guilty that he contemplated ending it all right there, but the other half clung to a sliver of hope.

Before he knew it, he was overcome by shivers, and exhaustion claimed him. He managed to sheathe his knife before collapsing onto his side. He intended to take a brief nap, but half an hour turned into twelve.

Lansius didn’t realize a new day had dawned when he opened his eyes. He felt surprisingly refreshed, and even his ankle seemed better. Oddly enough, he didn’t find the usual insects crawling on his clothes.

There was nothing unusual in his surroundings, except for a plant with dark purple leaves and flowers near him. With nothing to lose, he took his knife and carefully excavated the plant, making sure to extract it complete with its roots. He wrapped it in leftover linen and stored it in his bag. Afterward, he checked his gear, took the last sip of water, and mustered his will for another trek.

Strangely, he no longer felt hungry. Unbeknownst to him, his digestion had slowed down as he’d barely eaten in almost a week. Now, his body pulled energy directly from his fat, and he became skinnier each day.

After what felt like two hours, he could hear the river more distinctly than before. This spurred him to continue.

Suddenly, his foot plunged into what felt like a puddle of water. He instinctively pulled it out, startled by the cold, wet sensation. On examining his surroundings, he found he had stepped on a hidden creek that was concealed by ferns, shrubs, and other vegetation.

This stroke of luck made him burst into laughter.

Suddenly, a loud neighing sound startled Lansius, causing him to jump sideways and land on his backside.

A horse?!

He could hear the animal’s heavy breathing coming from somewhere behind the trees. He quickly filled his canteen from the creek and set off to find the horse.

He was concerned about the horse’s rider, but after being alone for so long, he was willing to risk even a cell or a dungeon.

As Lansius peered between the trees, he spotted a brown horse with white spots. It was calmly drinking from the creek in the middle of a small clearing. The horse was saddled and had reins, indicating the presence of an owner.

Lansius scanned the surroundings, but found no one even after several minutes.

After some deliberation, he slowly approached the stream, doing his best to appear nonthreatening.

The horse neighed unhappily, but Lansius remained calm. He knelt by the creek to clean his hands and face, something he hadn’t done in days. He continued to observe his surroundings and noticed saddlebags on the horse. Seeing them as a potential lifeline, he gathered the courage to approach.

He racked his brain to recall what Stefi had taught him about horses. He made no sudden movements, approached the horse indirectly, and stayed within its line of sight.

After a tense moment in which the horse moved several times and Lansius paused to give it space, he finally managed to grab the reins. As he took hold of the leather strap, the horse protested but didn’t run or kick.

“Easy, boy . . .” Lansius patted the horse’s head to calm it down before moving to the saddle. He wasn’t planning to ride—his horse-riding skills were far too poor—instead, he opened the saddlebags and unloaded their contents onto the forest floor.

There were pouches, ropes, onion-smelling thing, linens, and various other items. On the other side, he found water pouches, a metallic flask, a black metal pot, and a sheet of fabric. The last thing he did was unstrap a sword from the saddle.

As the sword clattered to the ground, he first gathered the pouches and moved the items away from the horse, lest the animal trample them. Once done, Lansius let go of the reins.

“Go on, you’re free to go.”

The horse remained distrustful but eventually trotted away. He had considered keeping her, but he was too worried that her rider was nearby. He was also concerned that leading a horse might make him an easier target to track.

Loaded with goods, Lansius moved to find some cover. He continued until he found a cluster of gigantic trees with tall shrubs on either side, and then he began to unpack.

Nuts? This is promising . . .and this is . . . ugh, moldy bread, yuck.

He threw the bread away, along with some rotten salted meat to avoid attracting any carnivores. Without wasting any time, he popped a handful of nuts into his mouth, finding they tasted somewhat like almonds. He then uncovered thin biscuits and eagerly devoured them.

The biscuits were superb, better than any he had ever had. Next, he cut a chunk of cheese and ate it whole.

Curiosity led him to sample the ale from the engraved metallic flask. He coughed heavily as his throat burned, but he felt invigorated.

A metallic glint caught his attention. He had forgotten about the sword. He picked it up and drew it from its scabbard.

It was a fine-looking arming sword. Its blade had a fuller, the cross guard looked sturdy, and the pommel was rounded. The blade only had minor defects or imperfections. As Stefi had taught him, only the area around the tip was razor sharp. The rest of the blade was only as sharp as scissors and meant to be used against an armored opponent.

Feeling satisfied, Lansius sheathed the sword again and felt somewhat safer because of it. Not knowing how much time had passed, as the woods obscured the sun, he decided to push his luck further and continued his search for a way out.

A horse, even a lost one, is a good sign that a settlement is near.

With renewed spirit, he slung his newfound sword over his shoulder, along with his loaded bag, and set off again. His instincts told him to follow the creek, so he abandoned his search for the river.

The terrain became more challenging, with boulders scattered here and there. The sun changed its hue to a reddish-orange, and the trees began to thin out. This urged him to quicken his pace, and he noticed a spot where numerous beams of light penetrated the forest floor. Jogging toward the clearing, he hoped to find something, but what he saw left him speechless.

Vast meadows, two distant hills, a lake, and small rectangular shapes that could be farms or orchards.

It wasn’t just a clearing; it was a way out. A warm wind greeted Lansius as he emerged back into the civilized world.

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