The Rubbish Realm

Chapter 9 (WIP)

It had all been Melton's idea. Well, who else would think of putting their magical boots on a horse? Nobody used horses except for plowing, since boots were just so much better and cheaper, but putting boots on a horse? And it was actually working! Melton grinned to no end as the horse galloped through the narrow forest path, the sounds of fall whispering through his ears. They had escaped their closest call yet, as Evander had lost his bow. Since he needed a new one, they had decided to head to Amberly's. She had everything, surely she had at least a mediocre bow and food. As if on cue, his stomach growled. They hadn't eaten anything all day. Good thing we aren't running, he thought to himself. That'd be a travesty.
Evander had been sitting in front. "You alright back there?"
"I'm doing great." He was, he loved outdoors, loved the fall colors, wind, foreboding... nothing quite like good foreshadowing, in his opinion. That was always what he was best at, foreshadowing. Until he'd followed Evander, and there was no turning back.
"Sweet." Evander remained forwards, maneuvering the horse with the deft skill of an experienced farmer. It was always business as usual for him, and a horse wasn't going to throw him off. "...do you hear something?"
Melton cupped his hand to his ear. "From which direction?"
"Behind us. Sounds like running."
And now that he was listening for it, he did hear it. Somehow, something was gaining on them. "Do you think those are the soldiers?"
"Do you have any string?"
"Huh?" Melton rummaged through his pack, adjusting to keep his balance on the bumpy horse. "Here. Why?"
Evander reached out and grabbed a branch of a tree while they passed. "Hand it over."
"Did you just?" We're going 30 booleans an hour! How did he just reach out and grab one?
"Yes. Do you see them? Are we almost there?"
Melton turned briefly, nearly falling off. "Not yet."
"To which question?"
"...both."
Evander nodded, and they continued on in silence, the horse going even faster than it had been before.
Nothing happened. The wind blew harder, whipping around his ears. He pulled his cloak over his head, but that could not disguise the sounds of many running feet, gaining on them.
And suddenly, an arrow struck his left ankle. He let out a short screech.
"They're here." Evander turned around, the branch and string making a makeshift bow. The forces visibly slowed, murmuring rising through their ranks as Melton and Evander gained precious feet. "I thought you said... does that work?... should we go?"
"How close?" Evander whispered harshly, somehow keeping the horse on the path despite facing the opposite direction.
"N-not very." Melton couldn't tell if he stuttered because the horse was bumpy, because Evander was somehow steering without looking, or if he was just scared, but the arrow in his ankle was starting to hurt. "About 10 minutes away."
"10 minutes..." Evander's tone dripped with disappointment.
"Should I bring out my staff?" Melton wasn't sure if he could balance with it or even turn around while going so fast. How had Evander done it?
"Probably."
Melton nodded. "Around 8 minutes now," he stated, as he pulled out his staff from where it was lying, lengthwise, on the horse's back. One leg over, other leg - no, stay on - there. Now they were both facing the opposite direction they were going. "How are you steering?"
"Don't ask."
Melton tactfully shut up. The chase had resumed.
He could hear the boots approaching again. There was no way, even with that lucky delay, that they would make it to the house before the troops caught up to them. They'd have to stall them a second time.
Evander nocked an arrow to the makeshift bow. "It won't work," he whispered. "It won't work."
"Make it look like it will, then." Melton knew Evander knew what to do, but it needed to be said. "It has to work. Six - no, seven minutes." His chronometer was sure coming in handy here.
"I know." The fire had returned to Evander's eyes, the look that meant he was ready for anything, that he was ready to be reckless, that nothing and nobody could stop him. Usually, he was right. Here, Melton wasn't sure.
Melton jolted into thought, brainstorming some random way to stop them. Spikes in the road? Explosives? Glue on the road? Some contraption? Smoke bombs? A smile came to his face. Smoke bombs. He could make those. Grabbing his lighter that he'd made for Evander's burning arrows, he took the last of his handmade fireworks out of his bag. Surely Amberly would have more. Leaves were easy to find, they were all over him anyway. He stuffed them on top of the firecracker, disguising it and giving it a little bit of a fuse.
"Almost there?" Evander demanded. He knew they didn't have much time.
Melton simply grinned, lighting the leaves and letting the contraption fly.
"Is that-" Evander was cut off by a tremendous bang. The horse shot forwards, running quicker than it had in its life. Melton no longer heard the sound of many boots - but then again, he couldn't really hear anything.
"Nice." Evander's face contorted itself into a sickly grin. "Nice." He turned back around to face the front.
Melton's face displayed a mix of deep relief and deep disappointment. Once again, he recalled the days before... when Evander was actually happy... before Imogen... writing novels together in a dusty attic... no use. "Three minutes."
"We're set."
Melton, turning back around, was suddenly forced to remember the arrow in his ankle. "Ow..." he winced. It seemed to be in rather deep. "What if they show up at Amberly's house?"
Evander didn't reply. Had he not heard, or...?
They continued on in silence until Amberly's. When they got there, Melton attempted to disembark, then crumped in pain. "Evander... could you help?"
Evander half-dragged, half-carried Melton in, the worry in his eyes seeming to be the only emotion he ever felt.
"Come in!" Amberly sang, and they did.