After the Escape

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EquinoxSol

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Jasille could still remember when it had all went to shit. Dimaethor had been taking his evening meal, looking over a few petitions given to him by the people and meeting with General Kina, his most trusted general. The servant refilling his glass had leapt at him, pressing a knife to his throat.

Dimaethor would have died then if Jasille hadn't pushed the servant off and killed him. Kina simply sat there smiling. Then, his soldiers, the castle guard, had walked in, baring the exits and surrounding the king and his bodyguard.

In the streets, the people began to revolt, breaking into the nobles' estates and burning down their manors, killing children in their beds. Jasille had grabbed Dimaethor and jumped out of the window with him, landing two stories down in a snow drift.

For two weeks, they ran, stealing when they needed to in order to survive. And, days before they reached a town along the border of Liran and Ashanti, Dimaethor fell ill with pneumonia.

Now, Dimaethor was on Jasille's back, clinging to him while he carried the young king to Liran. Dimaethor had been wearing a silk tunic when they ran, which wasn't suited for the harsh weather outside the castle. It was no surprise he got sick.

The moment they reached the town of Tyreah, Jasille began making his way to the town's tavern, hoping to buy a room for the next few nights so his king could get better.

"One...one room, please," Jasille said to the barkeep, still holding Dimaethor on his back.
 
"Thea! Get over here, girl!" the large, muscular barkeep bellowed. Through the swinging door behind him came a very small woman, carrying a tray with ale and food on it. She had long black hair tied up behind her in a low, messy pony tail and she was dressed in a plain dress that looked too large for her small frame. The strange thing was, she had an archer's glove on her hand and her boots were covered in mud.

"I'm here! Sylel, I am here." she stopped beside him and glanced for the slightest moment at the man and boy. She tried not to react to their strange circumstances and looked away as quickly as possible.

"Serve your drinks and then take them to a room." He said to her walking down the side of the bar suddenly to pull apart two drunken men that had begun to argue. Thea met the eyes of the man and nodded quickly. As she wound her way around tables to put the food and drink down, she started taking inventory of what she might need to help the sick boy the man carried. She was no healer, but warm nourishment and certain root teas did wonders to help the sick. If nothing else, she could gather those things quickly and leave it to them whether or not to use it.

She quickly pushed the food onto the table and received a quick slap on her ass followed by a grope of a large, meaty hand. The man laughed heartily, waiting for a reaction and if her boss wasn't nearby and the boy wasn't so sick...he would have received a reaction that he would not have liked. She moved away quickly, it would likely not be the last unwelcome hand to reach out to her tonight.

She almost ran back to the bar and held up a finger as she ran by them and slipped behind the bar without Sylel seeing her. She grabbed the kettle, the flux root and then two bowls of the stew. She quickly came out the doors and ducked into the hallway just out of Sylel's view, motioning for the man and sick boy to follow her up the stairs.
 
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Jasille was grateful that they were able to get a room, and as the young woman arrived to lead them to the room, he nodded appreciatively, smiling gently. He adjusted his hold on Dimaethor, hoping that nobody gave them trouble for being elves. It wouldn't do for them to be thrown out again. He wasn't sure that Dimaethor could survive another night in the cold.

Watching with a slightly bemused expression on his face as the young woman bustled about the bar before leading them up the stairs. "Thank you," Jasille said as he followed. "You are doing us a great favor." As if to prove his statement, Dimaethor gave a tiny whimper, his weak voice so different from the confident young king Jasille knew in the castle.

When they were brought to a room, Jasille set Dimaethor down onto the bed, looking down at the ill king. His clothes were frayed and torn, his skin pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Jasille sighed as he began to help Dimaethor out of his clothes. They were soaked through with sweat, and from how Dimaethor was shivering, it wouldn't be good to leave him in them.

"Do you know of a healer in the town?" he asked as he tucked Dimaethor in. "And...we don't have that much money, but we have items to trade. I can work, too, but I'm afraid my companion is too ill to be much help."
 
His voice lilted and carried to her in a distinctive and familiar way as he thanked her. She was sure it should remind her of something, but she could not place it.


She wondered if were brothers by the similarities they shared and by the way the older one seemed to take care of him. Upon realizing he was undressing the younger one, she turned and crouched in front of a large fireplace. She began laying kindling and logs down to start low fire that would warm the room but not cause too much heat for the feverish boy. When he asked her about the healer she turned to see him putting the light blanket over the boy's pale body. She crossed the room to where she had placed the tray and grabbed the kettle. She crushed the end of the purple root and poured the steaming water over it into the small cup.

"This is flux root...it will help with his fever, if you can get him to eat, I brought you both some food.". She gave a nervous look at the door and paused a moment.

"I will get a healer to see him...I know of one, I think I can persuade him to come tonight."
He looked so sick, she knew better than to wait. Sylil would not be easy to deal with her second disappearance of the night. However, she found it impossible to deny the boy help.
 
"Thank you, my lady," Jasille said as she told him that she would try to get the healer to come that night. He took the tea, and helped Dimaethor sit up a bit before holding the cup to his lips. "Please, drink," he said, trying to care for him. "You need to get better..." Still, Dimaethor wouldn't drink, too sick to keep anything down. He had been throwing up everything he had been eating, and Jasille didn't want to deal with that. He was scared, though, that his king would die, after all they had been through.

After a few minutes of trying to get Dimaethor to eat, Jasille let him lie back down, telling him, "Sleep, then. You can eat later." He pulled the blanket up to his chin, asking the woman, "Can we get a couple more blankets? He'll sweat through these soon. He brushed back Dimaethor's hair, looking down at his sick king. Already, he had lost several pounds, and was now as thin as a stick.

"My lady," Jasille said, looking to her, "if you would, please leave us for a few minutes. I need to discuss some things with my brother." Jasille decided then that calling then brothers would be safest. Who knows what could happen if it were discovered that Dimaethor was the elven king.

Once they were alone, Jasille dug through his lack until he found what remained of the crown. Dimaethor had at first wanted to keep it as it was: stellar in silver and emeralds. But Jasille knew they'd need the money an emerald could gain them. He sighed before taking out his knife, working it under one of the emeralds. He pried it off, and slipped it into his pocket before opening the door to find the young lady.
 
Thea walked downstairs, she would have to start working on Sylel if she wanted to leave for a short while again tonight. He wasn't supposed to have figured out she had left the tavern already once and if the other barmaid had showed up tonight, he wouldn't have. She looked out over the few patrons at the tables, the table she had served earlier looked angry and impatient. Their mugs were empty and the few women of the night had already found their fares for the evening. She grabbed two mugs, filled them and put two coins in the till. As she walked past the bar Sylel stopped her and grimaced.

"Where have you been?" he asked her, his tone annoyed and short.
"You told me to take those people to their room!" her tone matching his.
"Get to work Thea...don't get yourself in trouble twice in one night!" he threatened. He didn't have to say much else as he retreated behind the bar. She could still feel the sting from her earlier punishment.
She served the two men, apologizing for their lack of attention and offering them the two ales she had paid for from her own wages. They said a few crude, insulting comments about the attention they might like to receive, but accepted the drinks without too much more difficulty.

Thinking on the men upstairs in the room, she wondered what exactly made them seem so familiar and yet so different to her. Blankets! she thought to herself and nearly jumped to get them. As she was pulling them down, Sylel approached. "I've no extra ladies tonight, should they want more than blankets to keep themselves warm. I'd give them you for a while, for a discount." He walked away almost in a fit of laughter at the thought. She rolled her eyes, he knew well enough not to even suggest that. Then again... it would "buy" her some time to fetch the healer for them. She held the blankets in her hands and turned back toward the steps.
 
Jasille walked out of the room, almost running into the young woman. "Oh, sorry, my lady," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Here, this is for you. For helping us." He took out the emerald, holding it out to her. "It should pay for everything, I would hope." He smiled pleasantly, before taking the blankets from her.

"Thank you, again. My brother will be grateful for them, too, I'm sure, when he's better." He went back to the bedroom, putting the blankets on the edge of the bed. As he sat on its edge, his bag fell off, and a silver crown fell from it, rolling to a stop at the young lady's feet.

Jasille stood there for several seconds in shock before he pulled her in and shut the door. "You mustn't tell a soul," he said lowly, reaching down and picking up the crown. "He's my king, and I've been sworn to protect him...but should word get out about him, it is likely he will be killed."
 
When he put the gem into her hand she had to resist the urge to gasp. She was pretty sure this would pay for what he needed and more, it also would allow her to get out of the inn for a short while. If Sylel thought they had paid for her company, she could slip out with plenty of time to get the help the younger one needed. Of course, this could open up a difficult place for her with Sylel, the one thing that she had going for her was the fact she would take a beating before she'd sell herself, and he knew that.

She stood in the doorway as the man spoke to her. She liked the sound of his voice and found herself studying him as he walked and sat on the bed. The bag toppled and something large came out and rolled toward her. At first she only thought to stoop down, pick it up and hand it to him, but her breath caught in her lungs and she stared down at it. It was a brilliant silver and no mistaking it, a crown. Her face fell slack as her eyes widened. The next moment his hands took hers and he pulled her inside the doorway gently.

The words rushed out of him in a hurry as he asked her not to say anything and explained that the sick one was his king and he was in danger. Thea listened in wide-eyed wonder and nodded her head until words came back to her. "I - I -won't say anything." She sounded scared, when she had wanted to sound sincere. Her head looked over his shoulder at the younger one on the bed and she became even more worried.

"I should go! I need to bring someone back to help him..." She turned to walk toward the door and then turned around. She felt improper and foolish to be in this situation with royalty, she was nothing. A commoner, half a slave to the innkeeper Sylel in all truth. "I am Thea." she said quietly to him.
 
Jasille nodded as she began to leave, but looked back up to her as she said her name. "I'm Jasille. His Majesty's name is Dimaethor, but we'll go by Saechon and Linair in this country. And..." He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair before adding, "keep the emerald. The barkeeper doesn't deserve it. I'll find a way to pay him. Thank you again, my lady," he said, bowing to her before facing his king.

He pulled a chair from the desk in the corner of the room, setting it near the bed. He sat down, looking at his young king sadly. He knew that things had been awful in Ashanti, but Dimaethor was still a child. He didn't deserve to die for the mistakes of many.

Sighing softly, he ate his bowl of stew before waking Dimaethor to try and get him to eat again. He sipped from the tea, but couldn't drink more than a few sips and refused to eat again. "Please, my king," Jasille murmured, "you must eat. How will you survive this pneumonia if you don't keep your strength up."
 
She quietly closed the door and went down the hall away from the stairs. She went through a room in the back and out to a small balcony through the room. Thea swung a leg over the balcony and then the other leg followed as she moved a couple of steps to the side and then turned around. She put one boot down on the rung of a ladder and quickly climbed down. She jumped down the last few feet and landed on her feet. She moved quickly through the small town, avoiding anyone that may notice her and tell Sylel she was out and about again. The person she needed was a short distance away and she made her way as swiftly as possible to him. She knocked on his door and waited. It was dark, he may not even answer, if he didn't she planned on just heading inside anyhow. She didn't have to, she heard him walking toward the door and when he opened it, he looked down at her and gave her a questioning look.

"Thea, what are you doing here? Sylel will give you a beating if he knows you're out at this hour!" he said kindly and opened his door to her.
"Already had one today." she said as she walked past him into his home. "Henley, I have an emergency." she said, wasting no time in her efforts to get him to see the sick boy. Henley's green eyes looked worried, Thea was never one for dramatics, if she said something was an emergency, it likely was. Henley was younger than most men would be in his field. Usually healers were older, white haired men that had spent a lifetime learning the craft. Henley was naturally gifted in the healing arts. He was a lean, sinewy man with golden brown hair that hung in loose waves almost to his shoulders and deep green eyes. In fact, when Thea opened her hand, still gripped onto the emerald, it was a close match for his own eyes that looked down at it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked her.
"Can you sell it? I need the money and on top of that, payment for you to see someone who is really sick."
"Thea...have you been stealing again?" he asked and looked at her disappointed.
"No! I didn't." She tried to not be offended by the question, but it was hard, she had only stolen once and it was for a good cause. "I am trying to help someone. There's a boy at the inn, he's very sick. I made him flux root tea, but he's pretty bad off. I don't think it will help."
Henley looked at her and shook his head, he'd likely not deny her whatever she wanted. She was like a little sister, annoying and troublesome, but he loved her dearly. "How much money do you need?"
She explained the specifics of the money she needed and that he would also need to be paid for seeing the boy. He agreed and took out enough for a few nights of room and board at the inn and extra for the companionship of Thea. Likely, if this boy was really bad off, he would need Thea to help with the boy. They made their way back to the inn, Thea going around back to the ladder and Henley walking in the front of the inn. He walked in and brushed past Sylel, he'd like to have a word with him about his latest treatment of Thea, but with the look on the barkeeper's face, he knew better.

Thea and Henley met in the hallway and she turned to the door. She quietly knocked and waited for an answer.
 
Jasille stood upon hearing the knock at the door, and went to open it. "Are you the healer?" he asked as he saw the blonde male. "Thank you, my lady," he said to Thea, hoping that his king might finally begin to get better. "Please, come in." He held the door open for them, letting the healer see the young king on the bed. "I think he has pneumonia, but what humans call Elven Fever took our parents, and I fear he has it as well..."

While he and Dimaethor were not brothers, Dinaethor's parents had died from Green Fever, which humans called Elven Fever because only elves contracted it. It had spread through Ashanti like wildfire, killing half of those who caught it, including the former king and queen.

Jasille led the healer to Dimaethor's bedside, where the sick king was shivering from cold, his blue eyes bright with fever. "Mama..." he whimpered, looking five years old again. He sniffled, reaching out for Thea, confusing her for his mother.
 
Thea panicked for a moment at the boy's error. She hesitantly moved closer to him and took his hand before sitting on the edge beside him and brushing his hair from his forehead and telling him in a quiet voice that everything would be alright. Henley smiled at the elf, both a show of concern and admiration, he'd never met an elf and the sight was alluring. He blinked back his stare, feeling slightly ashamed for it, there was a sick boy here after all. "My name is Henley, I will see what we can do for your brother. "

He looked over the younger 'brother' and grew most concerned over the sounds from his chest. This sickness had likely gone on too long with no treatment. He did not wish to say it, he felt he should save the older brother's grief from growing any stronger. He took the kettle and put it on the fire for a short while and then he pulled open a small pack he had at his side . He pulled out two small white envelopes and opened them. One contained a white powder and the other a yellow one. He poured them into the empty cup, followed by the now steaming water from the kettle. He managed to get the boy to drink, but only after Thea spoke to him in soft soothing words.

"How long can you stay with him?" he spoke quietly to Thea.
"I've enough for a few times, hours each if needed." She answered.
"I think it will help if you could stay a white tonight, I will as well." He whispered, though he realized the elf probably could hear everything they spoke about.

"If you don't mind, I think it's best we stay here with your brother tonight. Thea is a comfort to him and I would like to be sure the medicine is working as expected." Henley spoke aloud, turning to the elf that watched over the boy.
 
Jasille watched the healer carefully, making sure he wasn't going to hurt him. He was glad that Dimaethor was comforted by Thea's presence, even if he thought she was his mother. At least it meant he was calm and he would eat. "I'm...c-cold..." he whimpered, followed by a bout of coughing.

He drank the tea, making a face at the taste. Still, it cleared up his throat and made it easier to breathe.

Jasille looked up as he heard the healer talk about staying. When he was spoke to, he nodded, and said, "Okay. Thank you. Will he be alright?" He looked down at his sick prince, who seemed to be falling asleep again. He still looked so sick, and it made Jasille worried. He had made a promise to Dimaethor's parents on their death bed to protect Dimaethor at all costs. If he let him die to pneumonia, then he was breaking that promise.

"Do you...do you want me to buy some food for you two? It is the least I can do for you..."
 
Henley looked over the boy and then back to Jasille with a confident look upon his face. "I think he will be fine, in a few days. But tonight we'll find out the most, so we need to get through this first. I hope to see the fever break very soon." Henley tried to sound reassuring, but felt he did not do justice compared to the soothing tones of the elves. He looked to Thea and put a hand on her shoulder, still speaking quietly, but not trying to prevent Jasille from hearing them.

"Are you hungry?" He asked her and she shook her head no, a slight look of fear crossed her face.
"They don't know what I said I was doing here." She whispered to Henley and the knowing look crossed his face. Thea was afraid if Sylel confronted Jasille about her reasons for being gone, she would be in trouble.
"Sir...elf..." Henley tripped over his words, "You see... Thea is taking a risk helping you tonight. To do so, she had to tell her ... employer, "Henley said the word with obvious disdain, "an unsavory tale as to why a young lady might be spending so much time with you. And while I assure you, Thea is not that sort, she's done what was necessary to help your brother. So, if you would like to get us something to eat, please understand that you may be asked something by the barkeeper, Sylil and if you could please answer accordingly."
 
Jasille listened attentively to Henley as he explained the situation regarding Thea. He nodded before saying, "I will do what needs to be done, Henley. And...thank you, again. It means everything to me that he lives." With that, he left, walking down the stairs to the main room. He moved to the bar, waiting until he had the barkeep's attention before he said, "Food, please. Doesn't matter what. And clean water, if you have it." He leaned against the bar, running his fingers through his dark hair.

He ignored the stares he received from others at the bar, knowing why they were staring. An elf had no reason to be in Liran. Indeed, they were rarely seen outside of Ashanti, and he was worried that he would become the brunt of jeers and taunts. He sighed, longing for his chambers at the castle once more.
 
A short, squat man approached Sylil and nodded in the direction of Jasille. His words, while unheard, were unmistakably angry. Sylil threw the stained towel draped over his shoulder down and walked heavily back to Jasille. He almost stuck his face against his as he took a look at what he needed to see. "No. Damn it, no. I'm not harboring your kind here. " He said it loud enough to ensure the crowd would start to draw up near him. Then the angry murmurs started and soon grew into shouts, they all surrounded him before Sylil's face changed and he looked up the stairs. "The stupid bitch!" While the men gathered around Jasille began throwing insults at him, Sylil had already started bounding up the steps toward their room.
 
Jasille breathed a curse as Sylil approached him, an angry red color creeping up his neck. He stood a full head taller than the barkeep, his elven height making him tower over most humans, and felt anger rise in him as he was spoken to. As the other patrons in the bar quickly rose to the barkeep's side, he reached for his sword by instinct. However, that was in the room, underneath the bed. He had a dagger in his boot, but if he bent to get it, he feared receiving a bottle to the head.

Still, if Sylil was able to get to the room, who knew what would happen. He gripped one of the chairs that sat next to him, his knuckles turning white. A second later, he swung it at the human nearest him and ran past him, his heart thundering in his ears. He caught up with the barkeep, and tackled him to the ground, digging his elbow in between his shoulder blades. "You will leave her alone!" he growled, scrambling to his feet before rushing into the room.

He shut the door behind him, latching it and jamming the chair beneath the knob. He looked to the healer, his grey eyes panicked. "Is there another way out of this room?" he asked, digging beneath the bed and retrieving his sword. It was wrapped in burlap, but he quickly untied the string keeping it shut. Looping the sheathe onto his belt, he said, "Can we move him?"
 
Thea looked up and then to the door. She could hear Sylil yelling outside of it and looked at Henley, "The window, it's too far down...a healthy elf probably would be fine, but not us and not the boy." Henley nodded and looked around the room. "I'm not sure there is a way out for us without using that door." Thea looked at the boy and could already tell his fever was not running as hot as it had, it was not yet broken, but it was heading that way. He needed to rest, if not here, somewhere. "Can you?" She asked Henley and he pursed his lips and nodded his head, he would take them in, she need not ask. "But how?"

"I will get him away from the door, you take them out the laddered escape in the room diagonally across the hall. I know he could carry him down. I will come to you, after." She said quietly.

"Thea..." Henley tried to find the right objection, but there was no other way. He could hear more angry voices outside the door. If she could give them even a few moments to escape, it would be all they needed. If not, there would be a blood bath and by the looks of the tall elf holding the sword by his side, many people in the town would be dead. As much as he did not want the elves hurt, he could not allow the simple ignorance of his townspeople lead them to their deaths.

She simply shrugged at Henley, at least this time, the beating would be worth something. She'd handled it before, she knew she would be okay if she did this. She did not know that any of them would be okay if she did not. She walked to the door and turned to them, "Bar the door immediately after I leave, just in case. Remember, go to the room, out the window, you won't see the ladder immediately, but it is there. Henley, if you could grab my bow and quiver? It's under the burlap just by the ladder."
 
Jasille looked from Henley to Thea repeatedly, made increasingly worried by the shouts from outside the door. However, when it decided that he would escape with Henley, but Thea would suffer a beating, he said, "I cannot let you do that. It isn't right. I am a knight, and though my sworn king if different from your own, I stand for the same things: protection of the innocent. I will protect you." He tightened his belt before helping his prince sit up.

"I'm going to dress you, Your Majesty," he murmured into his ear, retrieving the king's clothes. He helped Dimaethor into his clothes, brushing back his blonde hair gently. Once he was dressed, he asked Henley, "Can you help him walk? He's lucid enough, but I don't want him falling..."
 
Thea watched the knight helping his king for a moment and knew there was still no chance that they would get through the crowded hall. "Sorry, Henley." She said quickly and opened and slammed the door. Henley only had a moment to react before he pushed against the door and replaced the chair.

Outside the hall, there were a few people gathered around Sylil and all eyes turned to her. She smiled, nervously and tilted her head as if nothing was wrong.
"They are elves, Thea!" Sylil told her.
"I know that now." She said coyly.
"Did you?" He asked, his voice beginning to sound caught between fear and anger.
She darted her eyes back and forth at those gathered around him. "Please Sylil, I don't want to do this now." She answered.
"DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!" he screamed at everyone and grabbed her arm, half dragging her with him down the stairs behind everyone else. She looked back once, she knew that they had a short window of time to get out and she hoped they took it.
Once downstairs, Sylil told everyone to get back to drinking, put two men at the bottom of the stairs and dragged the girl into the kitchen. "Did you?" he asked and when she didn't answer her, he backhanded her across her cheek. The sting was enough for her to gasp and she grimaced at him, "You told me to!" The man turned red as he shook his head from side to side. "Not with their kind! No man will want you...no one will want you near them. What am I going to do with you now?" he loudly whispered to her. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her down the steps of the kitchen into the cellar.
 
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