Tate was a fast runner, always had been. As a child when he had beaten in wrestling and sword play he had always excelled in running. His brothers used to mock him for it, telling him that he had been gifted by his mother's people with the art of being able to run away from a fight. It had shamed him at the time but now -
He broke through the tree's leading into the forest, jumping hastily over the outcropped roots and leaves. He heard cursing behind him and realized that his pursuers were stopping. They couldn't gallop through the woods; there were too many obstructions, too many things to fall over.
He risked a glance over his shoulder and felt his heart give way. They were so close. They must have been within grabbing distance just before he broke through the tree line.
He heard the prince then, his war trained voice caring easily over the distance between them. "You force me to come in there after you Tate and I'll make you regret the day your whore of a mother opened her legs to the man that sold you too me!"
Tate stopped and turned around. Hoping he wasn't too far away to be properly seen he raised his right arm and made a gesture he hoped could sum up the entirety of his feelings.
The prince started running, his followers a step behind him. Tate could barely hear the councilor screaming after them, demanding that they all turn back. He was too busy trying to make his tired legs go faster.
He dashed off the marked path and ran further into the thick underbrush. Twigs and branches tore at his hair and clothes, scratching his hands and unprotected face. He tripped once, cutting his shin on a sharp rock. Blood was dripping down his legs, soaking his trousers.
Tate was hobbling by the time he came face first with a huge rock face. He stared up at it, realizing there was no way he was going to be able to climb up it in his condition. Exhausted and hurt, he could hardly stand up.
He heard heavy foot falls behind him and realized the prince would be upon him in moments. Panic was threatening to overtake him common sense as he searched frantically for an escape. He'll kill me! He thought as he heard them close the distance between them. But what will he do to you before he kills you? A cruel voices taunted in the depths of his mind.
His eyes latched onto a small hole in the corner of the rock face. He stared listlessly at it for a few moments before he had an idea. There was a small gap leading through to the other side, if he could fit through it he would gain a lead, however slight. He knew there was no way his pursuers would be able to follow through such a small space.
It was a tight fit, made worse by the already constricted feeling in his chest. He wriggled through the small gap, trying to ignore the fear of being crushed or getting stuck as the hard stone pressed in one him. At one point his chest became wedged between the ragged rocks. He bit his lip until he felt blood pour onto his chin as he dragged him self through the small space, trying desperately to free him self. He managed it at last but he was sure he had damaged his ribs somehow. He only hoped they weren't broken.
He was moving slowly though, too slowly. He heard the prince and his men break into the clearing behind him and he wondered briefly if he was too young to feel his heart burst.
"You're telling me we lost him?" Christian demanded, his hand on his knees as he sucked in some much needed air. He felt like he was going to pass out! Say what you like about Tate but the little bastard could run. "He couldn't have climbed this thing that quickly. Are you sure we're going the right way?"
"My lord." Robert said, his sour face twisted into a look of near annoyance. "We followed his blood trail. He was definitely alone, how could he have tricked us?"
"Then where is he?" Christian asked, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. He lashed out, kicking a near by stone. "I will not lose him. I will not allow that bastard to make a fool out of me! Find his trail!"
"My lord." One of the younger guards squeaked, his young face a mask of excitement as he pointed wildly down a small gap in the rocks. "My prince I see him!"
Christian pushed the boy aside and squatted down to look through the hole. "Stop!" he bellowed, seeing Tate's legs escape the last part of the tunnel. The half blood crawled to his knees and looked over his shoulder at Christian, his eyes hooded and his face a mask of scratches and fatigue.
"You're only making this harder on your self." Christian growled, resisting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. "If you stay where you are and don't try to run again I promise I wont hurt you. I'll even honor the promise made to your father, but only if you stop right now!"
Tate looked at him blankly for what seemed like a long time. Eventually he just stood up. Christian saw his bloodied and ruined trousers for a moment before the other man walked away.
Christian could not recall a time when he had felt so angry. It frightened him that he could contain such rage, such fury. No one had ever denied him anything in his entire life and he was unsure how to react to such open defiance. He knew he should have let the half-blood go, that no good would come from following him, but his pride had been injured. He needed to catch up with the baron's bastard and put him in his proper place. And when he did catch to him, Christina felt a sliver of satisfaction roll through his entire body, he would make Tate pay for his defiance, he would heel the bastard and put him in his proper place, even if he had to break him to do it.
"Over the wall." Christian said, looking directly at his men. A few of the younger ones flinched back, fearful of his expression.
Only Richard remained calm. Eying the prince thoughtfully he pulled out his water bag and took a long swig. "My lord, may I remind you that the councilor is waiting for us, as is the king."
"I am aware." Christian hissed. "Now may I remind you that I just gave a direct order? Disobey me again and I'm well within my rights to kill you here and now. Now move!"
