Carvil CrossingMature

 Seoc regained consciousness a few minutes after Moriba had left, but he seemed only to have the energy to breathe and blink.  The rain had diminished to a drizzle, and Seymour thought it best to proceed to a safer place before nightfall, so he lifted his limp figure onto Wyrinther and climbed up behind him.  It was Simon's turn to walk.


Three days passed uneventfully.  While the sun was up, Seymour and Simon took shifts walking, and by the third day, Seoc could walk too, but only for short increments.  By night, as the cold crept in, they would huddle closer and closer together until, in the end, they slept like a pile of puppies, with Seymour on the bottom and the other two lying across him at odd angles.  Come morning, the Aechyed would find bruises all over his body resulting from their bony knees and elbows.  But throughout those three days, Seoc scarcely spoke a word.
         This caused Seymour a bit of concern, but not much.  When he looked into his eyes, he could tell with certainty that he was mentally present, if a bit melancholy and morose.  It was understandable that Seoc wouldn't be jumping for joy; he had, after all, nearly had the life drained out of him.  Seymour tried to cheer him up, but entertaining wasn't his strong suit, so he gave up.
         They arrived at Carvil Crossing, their first glimpse of civilization since Waelyngar, on the third of November.  It was a small town located just upstream of the junction of the Waelyngar and Carvil Rivers, its namesake and primary economic engine being a ferry across the latter of the two waterways.  Upon seeing a fresh parchment poster warning townsfolk of a certain two escaped madmen and their accomplice, Seymour opted to avoid the ferry and find a crossing somewhere upstream.  He couldn't resist, however, tearing down the poster when he was sure no one was looking.  
         The results of his scouting mission tucked away in his tunic, he returned to the outskirts if the forest, where Seoc and Simon were waiting for him.
         "Look what I found," he told them, unrolling the parchment and displaying it for them to study.
         Seoc smiled wryly, the first deviation from his recent apathetic norm since his near-death experience.  "Weel then," he began dryly, taking the parchment in his hands.  "Let's see. 'BEWARE:  DANGEROUS FUGITIVES IN WAELYNGAR FOREST!  Simon Tobias Marandur Edmund, 19, blond, 5'8, convicted of murder.  Seoc Andrew MacInnes, 18, dark-haired, 5'5, convicted of profound moral indecency.  Edmund and MacInnes escaped with the aid of an unknown accomplice from the Waelyngar Penitentiary and are believed to be moving south.  Reward for their capture, elimination, or information leading to such is set at 100,000 knamick.'"
         Seymour tilted his head in mock consideration.  "Is that so?  In that case, I could get twice as much for turning you two in than for delivering you to safety.  I ought to up my rates."

The End

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