Flashback True Guardians of the Lynint

[Jalen]

32nd of Summer, 512 AV

Blood fled in bursts throughout Jalen's veins, fueled by the thundering of his heart. Fingers trembled over the splintering wood of the shelter behind him. He'd already made it out of his own cluster of ramshackle huts, now there was a single stretch between him and the sugar fields that would hide him.. The worst was behind him--that long open space between his quarters and the next, bathed in pale light by the shining moon. It had taken a bell just to muster the courage to take that dive out between them. The overseer's back had been turned for just long enough. Jalen had sent out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods were looking out for him.

The Lynint dynasty was holding a party that night, a quick celebration of a successful business venture. The music and laughter could be heard even here, acres away from the whitewashed walls of the plantation house. It was luck, or perhaps divine intervention, that they'd taken overseers from the slaves to help monitor the guests. By some mix up, they'd taken too many--Jalen suspected some were leaving their posts to join the party regardless of whether they were requested. And so, shorthanded as the overseers were, the Chaktawe took the opportunity that was presented.

Now his escape was nearly ensured. Nearly. He clung to the shadows under an overhang, eyes locked on the man pacing between the slave quarters and the sugar fields. The overseer yawned, rubbing a hand over his worn face. He gazed ruefully toward the plantation house, mumbling about music and his bad petching luck. Just go, Jalen willed. Just go to the party, please. His wishes had no effect on the man, of course, who continued his patrol. Jalen ground his teeth in frustration. He flexed his hand around the long splinter of wood he held. It wouldn't be pretty, but the point was sharp enough to pierce flesh. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he used the back of his hand to clear them. This was it. One man between him and freedom. There was no question in his heart that he could do it. His chest heaved under the pressure. Time to go. Come on.

He tensed his muscles, his legs bunching like springs. It would have to be quick, if his victim cried out it was all over. He sprang forward.

"Dane!"

Shyke!

His back was glued to the shelter once more, one hand clapped over his mouth to quiet his gasps. Wide eyes stared out at the overseer as he glanced up, as surprised as Jalen to hear the voice. "What?! Dira's tits man, you scared the shyke outta me."

"Allsrik smuggled some sack-mead out of the party, come get a taste!" Dane's eyes brightened in a greedy smile. Calling out for them to save him some, the overseer abandoned his post. Jalen dropped his jaw in disbelief. How could they afford to be so lax? Shifting forward he peered around the corner. Dane had joined two other men. The three of them were walking in the opposite direction. Their backs were turned. Jalen didn't hesitate. Three seconds later he was running between tall stalks of sugar cane. His arms pumped, his heart raced, and a giddy smile was plastered on his face.

He could taste his freedom. It was still acres away to the southwest, but it was within his grasp. Tomorrow morning he would be walking the Kabrin road. He'd have to cover up his tattoo, but he'd deal with that when the time came. He'd masquerade as a traveling beggar, perhaps. Or a leper! He could wrap his limbs in linen and no one would want to bother him. His smile widened. All he needed to do was keep moving. No one knew he was missing. Soon the Chaktawe slave would fade from their memory.

A growl reverberated along the path ahead of him. Jalen skidded to a stop, pulse spiking and smile fading. Yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight ahead of him. A canine, fangs dripping in the dust, muscles bunched and ready to pounce, glared right at him. It stood down the row a few meters away. Around its neck, a plain green band stamped with the Lynint symbol. Oh shyke.

[Jalen]

The wolf raised its head, parting its thin lips in a long, drawn out howl. Jalen had already turned on his heels and started sprinting in the opposite direction. The cry was echoed further afield. There was no time to think. No time to consider direction. There was only mindless instinct. In that moment, he was prey. Bare feet pounded into the tilled earth. His arms cut wildly through the air. Black hair flapped in and out of his eyes. In his mind's eye he could see the hound on his heels, slavering jowls snapping.

The arid night air became host to the cries of man and beast. Jalen could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart and the blood rushing behind his ears. Fronds from sugarcane plants slapped as his face as he pushed through the rows, flailing arms batting them aside. The wolf chased him mercilessly. Always a step behind. But Jalen's strength was flagging. Years as a slave had hardened his endurance, but not even adrenaline could sustain a man at this speed. At any moment he expected to feel the weight of it on his back, rough claws forcing him to the ground. Those jaws would close around his neck and snap it like a branch.

The ground began to slope beneath him. The earthy scent of the field was replaced by musk and decaying plant matter. Just like that the sugarcane fell away from him and he was sprinting in the open. The moon reflected off of the Uvic Lake ahead of him, beckoning him into the safety of its waters. No dogs would be able to follow him in there! If he hid in the reeds, threw off the scent, maybe he could skirt around them and make it back to the fields.

Recklessly he launched himself forward, putting on one last burst of speed. Near the shore the water was full of aquatic plants, long grass, and reeds that would hide him. With a flying leap his threw himself into the mess of it.

It was deeper than it looked, and the sudden resistance from the water killed his balance. Slipping in the mud and grime, he slid under the water. Instinctively his inner lids slid shut over his eyes. Even without the milky haze his lids provided, he would be blind. The moonlight barely perforated the cloud of silt that rose up in his wake. He pushed up, raising his head above the water. Where was the wolf? Blinking water and mud out of his eyes, he scanned the shore. It was right there. Glaring and snarling, eyes boring into him. But it didn't approach. It remained a meter away from the water, paws digging into the moist earth in frustration.

A sly smile of relief spread on Jalen's face and he sank deeper into the water. If he stood it would barely come up to his knees but he allowed the murky water to rise past his shoulders. His hammering heart betrayed the fear that still lurked just below the surface, but the animal's standstill provided a fresh ray of hope. It was lucky the wolf's training kept it out of the water.

But as quickly as it rose the hope faded. The wolf lifted its nose, scenting the wind. It barked, and soon the glow of torches filtered through the sugarcane. A man shouted, catching sight of the wolf and pushing his way out of the field. Jalen paled. His muscles tensed and his hands flexed unconsciously, gripping at the mud and clay beneath the water. Move, or hide. Another torch appeared. The only escape was behind him, and he couldn't swim. The man stopped at the wolf, grabbing its collar but letting it point. Reflexively, Jalen covered his face with his hands. Grime from the bottom of the lake came with them, spreading down his cheeks. The wolf growled, focused on where he'd entered the reeds. Muttering in annoyance, the man stepped forward, raising the torch to spread light throughout the foliage. Jalen froze, sure he'd be seen. The man huffed, winded from the run throughout the fields. Jalen could smell the bitter odor of stale alcohol on his breath. His squinting eyes poured through the reeds and fronds passing right over him. Jalen's heart stopped.

Shaking his head, the man stood back up. "Anything?" Called his comrade.

"He must have entered the lake here. Could have gone anywhere." The other swore.

"You think it was a slave, then?"

"What else would have riled the dogs up like this?" They stood, grumbling to one another just a few yards away from where Jalen hid. The Chaktawe dared not to move but his eyes were wide with disbelief. How had he not been seen? With shock he realized the mud from the lake-bed was thick on his skin. His red-toned skin was camouflaged by mire and clay. He filed the tactic away for later--when the men left, he would ensure his entire body was covered. Perhaps it would even block his scent from the wolves? The men sighed, grabbed the dog and dragged it away from the lake. The torches disappeared into the sugarcane and Jalen's heart soared.

Jaws like steel clamped down on his leg.