Chapter 8 - continued

Donovan flew off the balcony as a leaf would fly through the wind on a gusty day. On his flight, his armored boot had caught itself on the edge of the stone balcony and he began to flip over and over in the air as he fell. As he spun, his vision switched between views of the ground, the great stone wall, and the sky above. He frantically flailed his arms hoping to grab a hold of anything.

As he sailed through the air, he caught a glimpse of the top of the oak tree that bordered the eastern wall; a tree which he was fast approaching. His body slammed into upper branches, smashing them upon contact. The speed of his fall was slowed, and he tumbled off of the top branches several feet above the ground.

With his back towards the earth, he landed with a great thump upon the grass below. Blades of his armor bent and crumpled due to the force of the impact. His jaw bit down and he felt a tooth crack. A small amount of blood spit into the air. The air within his lungs temporarily exited his body through his nose.

After he had recomposed himself, he slowly stumbled back upright. To his right lay the body of the dead assassin. He knew that with his attack on the high priest Darria, the remaining priests he had spared would not spend any time in trying to find him. He had to leave the Church grounds and the city as soon as possible. It was no longer safe to be in or near the town of Gestalt. All was not for naught however: at least, as he believed, the evil priest Darria was dead.

He thought to himself, "Where can I go?" Without dwelling on it, an idea popped into his head and he headed for the center of town.

On the way out of the church compound, he encountered other Protectorate guards at their posts. Using the fact that he was bloody and disheveled to his advantage, he told them that he needed emergency medical attention. They recognized the situation and let him on his way. After bidding them goodbye, he made his way into town towards the herbalist's shop.

With a quick pace he made his way down the main roadway of the town of Gestalt. It was still quite late, and so few villagers roamed the alleyways. He did see a small girl as he made his way, but she ran away from him with fear in her eyes when she got a glimpse of his great scar.

When he arrived at the herbalist's shop, he knocked upon the wooden door with his gauntleted fist. Splinters flew into the air. Moments later, an older woman slowly creaked the door partially open. She was hunched over and squinted at the young warrior standing outside. Many wrinkles covered her apprehensive face.

"What do you want? It is late, and we will re-open in the morn. Come back then," she said.

"I need to speak with Bella. I am injured and need help with my wounds."

"Ah, I recognize you now. She has spoken of you before. She doesn't live here you know, she lives on the outskirts of town at a pig farm."

"From which gate should I leave? I desperately need to speak with her."

"She lives to the north. The farm is several leagues away. Head up the main road until you see a small dirt path that forks to the right. Follow that path and you will come upon the farm."

"Thank you miss, you are very kind."

Donovan motioned to leave, turning down the road, but the woman spoke up. "'Ay, hold up. I can give you a little something you know? A wee bit of medicine for your pain."

She closed the wooden door, locking it, and headed back inside. She returned with a small glass bottle. Its bottom was round like a sphere, and its contents were orange with glittering gold flakes.

"Drink it, and you ought to feel much better. It'll help stop the bleeding as well."

"Thanks again, miss. I am very grateful."

"Ah, whatever I can do for a Church soldier. The more I help you fellas, the better I'll look in God's eyes. Take care."

With that she closed the door yet again. Donovan made his way down the roads of Gestalt heading for the great iron gate to the north.

Before reaching the gate, Donovan stopped at one of the local wells. Using water pulled from its recesses, he attempted to wash some of the dried blood off of his armor. For the most part, the stains washed off the metal with little effort. Satisfied that he had cleaned up a reasonable amount, he made his way on his journey.

When he reached the locked gate, two guards were standing on top of the walls. They called to him when he arrived.

"What business do you have north of Gestalt?" one of them asked.

Donovan lied. "I have just gotten off of duty, and I need to return home. My wife is likely to give birth at any time, and I need to be with her. It is our first child."

The guard, slightly puzzled due to Donovan's apparent age, always trusted another Protectorate soldier. "Raise the gate, let's get this father-to-be home."

As he passed through the iron bars and wooden walls of the northern gate, he viewed the great dark expanse ahead of him. He had never been outside of the city walls by himself, let alone on a night such as this. A slight chill ran up his spine.

The guard behind him closed the gate with a clang, and reset the large wooden barricade back into its place. He then returned to the top of the wall.

As Donovan made his way down the moonlit path in a quick jog, the main gate guard spoke. "I hope it's a boy!"

Following the herbalist's directions, he easily found Bella's pig farm. The farm was bordered by a dense forest on its northeastern side. Several wooden pens contained a few hundred pigs. The smell from their waste made the air dense and foul.

It had been a few weeks since he had seen her last, and he missed her incredibly. He missed both her company and her smile. As he made his way up to the main farmhouse, the noisy grunting of a group of pigs in one of the attached yards could be heard.

He didn't quite know how he was going to re-introduce himself. Should he go up to the front door and ask for assistance, or should he lay low and survey the situation? Not knowing what to expect, he chose the latter and stealthily made his way towards the southern wall of the building. He found it quite easy to move without being noticed due to the rustling of the pigs.

The farmhouse was of an average size and looked very old. The wooden beams that made up its walls looked very weathered and large seams appeared in each board. A thin straw roof spanned the entire structure. A single window was located on each of its walls, and a bright yellow glow emanated from them. Inside, he could hear the voices of a number of people.

He perched himself behind a solid wooden fence only a few paces away from the southern wall. From this vantage he could easily see into the home's southern window.

The first view he got was that of Bella. She was wearing a plain white dress, and a brown apron covered with patches of flour. Her hair was loose, and she was singing. It was a soft sounding tune, almost like a lullaby. It looked like she was in the kitchen, and in the process of cooking. She continued to hum as she went about her way.

Pleasant feelings began to warm Donovan's heart. He almost forgot what had happened on this evening. His entire emotions focused on the girl in the window. He wished desperately to talk with her.

Laughter from a child could be heard from within the home. Donovan then saw a very small girl tug at Bella's apron. Bella smiled, and hoisted the little girl up into her arms. With a bit of flour, she touched the tip of girl's nose. A white spot appeared on it, and then the tiny girl sneezed. Bella let out a great laugh that echoed through the night.

Another voice could be heard, this time of a deep voiced man. Into the kitchen walked a plump figure wearing muddy work clothes. He looked much older than Donovan, his chin thick and belly huge. The man walked up to Bella and the girl in her hands.

The three members within the home joined together in a great big hug, with each wrapping their arms around the other. The large man first kissed the little girl upon her forehead, and then turned to kiss Bella on her lips. Bella began to blush.

Fire began to spread through Donovan's body. His heart raced and his brow became hot. He found it hard to breathe, and began to choke upon the cold night air.

The warrior quickly ran away from the home into the nearby forest. Once a few hundred paces in, he knelt down onto the woody underbrush. Leaves and trigs crackled beneath him. Still finding it difficult to breathe, he began to hyperventilate. Tears flowed from his eyes and spit drained from his mouth.

Donovan felt stupid and unloved. "Of course she was married. How else would a woman like her go unclaimed? How could I have not seen it? Was I blinded?

"Of course I was blinded! I am a disfigured abomination. Who could stand to live with my monstrous form! Certainly not her!"

Just then, he remembered the bottle of liquid the herbalist had handed him. He hastily pulled it from his purse, and popped the cork. A heavy vapor lifted from the bottle's neck. With one quick gulp he swallowed the potion.

It burned all the way down his throat; just like the sensation of pure alcohol. He could feel his nostrils flare, and his head become light. Within seconds of drinking he could sense all of his extremities numbing.

With a great cry that echoed through the forest, he collapsed onto the forest's floor. There he lay weeping, moaning in pain. The numbing sensation proceeded to increase throughout his entire body. It continued to grow until Donovan could feel nothing at all.