In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (most motivational books txt) 📕

action, sword in one hand. They ran to the side of the building and scooped up their saddlebags and the quilt. The mare awaited them in the stable, and between the two of them, they made quick work of saddling her. It wasn’t the safest rig, and the saddlebags had to be wedged between them, but they took off into the night, the shouts of Athlen’s would-be captors echoing behind them.

They rode. An hour turned into two and bled into three. The night darkened, but the storm cleared, and the moon and the stars lit their way. Once Tal deemed them far enough away, he reined in the mare and coaxed her to the side of the road.

He needed to regroup. They both did.

Tal slid off her back and held his hand out for Athlen. He took it, and Tal helped him to the mossy ground.

“I’m sorry,” Athlen said, voice tight. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“It’s all right, Athlen.” Tal wiped his face with his sleeve, staining the fabric with a mixture of blood and mud. He grimaced. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Athlen twisted his hands into knots and pulled the quilt tighter around him. “I don’t know. I don’t—I want to stop shaking. I want to stop thinking about being chained to the deck and thrown overboard whenever they wanted me to search the seafloor. Or being trapped in a tank for the rest of my life.” He shuddered.

“Can I touch you?” Tal asked, stepping closer.

“Yes.”

Tal wrapped his arms around Athlen’s shaking body and held on. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.” His breath was cool on Tal’s neck. “For how long?”

“Until you tell me to let go.”

“Oh.” Athlen rested his forehead on Tal’s shoulder. “We need to get to your family’s home. There are others after your brother.”

“Yes. And we’ll start again in a few minutes, but let me hold you.”

Athlen melted into Tal’s embrace. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”

Tal swept his hands along the line of Athlen’s spine. “A few minutes, then.”

As the adrenaline bled off, Tal’s aches and pains returned in full force, and fatigue settled across his shoulders like a weight. Resting against Athlen, Tal closed his eyes and dreamed of the time when they would reach the castle, and everything would be behind them, and they could be together without the fate of the continent looming over them.

Tal was loath to release Athlen when he deemed their respite completed, but he finally did. Together, they fixed their awful saddling of the mare and reattached the saddlebags. Tal changed his shirt to rid himself of the mud and tacky blood clinging to his skin. Athlen rewrapped himself in the quilt and perched at Tal’s back.

With a cluck of Tal’s tongue, they were back on their journey, racing toward the castle and their fate.

13

Athlen clung to Tal’s back as Tal pushed the mare to her limit. They hadn’t stopped for more than a quick rest since the scuffle at the tavern two nights prior, and since they’d learned the news that Kest’s life was in danger. The mare galloped as fast as she could carrying two, her barrel heaving with breaths, lather gathering under the saddle. Tal bent low over her neck. Her mane whipped his face, stinging away the exhaustion gathering heavy in his eyes.

The tempo of her hooves beat in rhythm with the thoughts in his head. Save Kest. Stop Ossetia. Save Kest. Stop Ossetia. Save Kest. Stop Ossetia. The words filled his head and body and spurred him onward.

His family’s castle loomed over the landscape. At first it appeared as a blocky shape against the horizon, but as the mare ate up the distance with her long strides, the image sharpened into walls and turrets. And as she approached, the very atmosphere changed, the smell of the sea permeated the air, and the breeze was sharp and cool rolling in off the ocean. Athlen perked up, resting his chin on Tal’s shoulder, his mouth close to Tal’s ear, and he inhaled.

“The sea,” he said, his breath a tickle on Tal’s skin. “I miss the sea.”

Tal’s heart clenched.

Tal reined the mare in at the town’s outskirts, where the buildings clustered close together and the road was narrow and made of stone. The only thing between them and his home was the city that surrounded the keep’s outer wall.

“Why are we slowing?”

“This will be tricky. Hold on.”

Athlen’s grip tightened. Tal patted the mare’s neck. “One more push, darling,” he said, bent low to her ear. “Then rest for days.”

Clicking his tongue, he spurred her forward, her hooves loud in the otherwise silent town, beating a fast rhythm as he maneuvered her through the twisty, narrow streets toward the main entrance to the castle. They galloped past the open-air market where he and Corrie would buy sweet pastries from the stalls with coins given to them by Isa. Tal banked a hard turn at the apothecary with the pungent herbs and candles and boring books with pictures of plants. He sped by the public stockade, where punishment was meted out for small offenses. Memories and ghosts flashed by Tal in the last moments of their journey as he drew the remaining energy from the mare.

He reined her in at the large central gate. They skidded to a stop at the heavy door leading into the main keep. The portcullis was lowered, as it was the middle of the night, and the guard towers were shut. But there should be at least two guards right on the other side, standing watch. Tal blew out a breath and maneuvered the mare until his leg bumped the steel grating. He reached through the bars and pounded on the wood with his fist.

“I demand you open this door!” he yelled. “I have an urgent message for the queen!”

The mare pranced beneath him, nervous, feeling the tension in Tal’s legs. He held his breath, waiting for a response. After an eternity a small