Chapter 26: Drunken Chase.

Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Drunken Chase.

This whole falling shit was getting real old.

And this time definitely hurt the most. There were splinters, and deep, stinging grazes where the jagged edges of broken wood had scraped all up his calf as he went down, and his head was pounding like he’d cracked it on something, and his very bones suddenly ached. Like he’d just tumbled out of a tree and hit every goddamn branch on the way down.

It probably didn’t help that every muscle fibre in his body was screaming out in agony from the chase, begging for him to let his body rest and heal.

But his blood was still hot with adrenaline, and it should never be underestimated how long fury can burn for. No matter how much he ached; no matter how many times he had to fall, he would claw his way back to his feet, and beyond. And if after all of that, he still had to fight, then he would fight.

He’d seen it in their faces, as they circled him upon the balcony –seen that they knew just as well as he did, that if it came to that, then there wouldn’t be a man who came out of the brawl without a little something to remember him by.

But that lay ahead. Right now, there was red blurring his vision, and his chest felt like he’d had the wind knocked clean out of him. His lungs were aching, screaming –desperate for air.

By the gods, he wanted to groan; needed to breathe –but when he tried to, he found to his horror that he couldn’t. He opened his mouth, but it wasn’t air that rushed in, but something too fruity, and rich, and that made his head swim.

But he swallowed it regardless, helplessly let it pour down his throat and clog his nose until he gagged and retched, and his chest heaved with urgency, hungry for air.

It was a sensation he’d certainly felt before, but circumstantially, this was certainly a first.

Drowning.

In fucking wine.

Fucking unbelievable.

...

"Father, this isn’t funny!" Xena exclaimed in horror, actually rising from her seat with concern while Gurdet busied himself with pretending that he hadn’t just snorted so hard he’d actually spat his wine back into his glass.

And he most certainly wasn’t still laughing.

"On the contrary," he replied from behind a hand –a loose attempt at hiding a rather gleeful smirk, "It’s incredibly funny."

She hit him for that. Actually struck him. Well, it was more an irritated swat on the arm than anything, but he must have seriously irked to for her to do something so unladylike in public. Not that they were at all the centre of attention in the meantime –someone else had stolen the show, and rather spectacularly, Imayoshi had to admit.

"Father, he’s not moving!"

"Now, now, he seems like the tenacious sort," he placated flippantly as glanced briefly at the smouldering remains of what had admittedly been yet another rather ghastly tapestry. Hopefully their guest would be so kind as to set a few more of the ugly things on fire.

He took a sip of his wine and then grimaced as he remembered the mouthful that he’d just spat back into it, "I’m sure he’ll be just fine."

Admittedly, he didn’t look ’just fine’. Xena’s concern probably had some grounding, considering that the young prince was currently lying motionless amidst splintered barrels and a rather expansive, steadily spreading pool of what had been perfectly good wine. It was quite a ghastly looking scene, really –the tint of the wine too close to the shade of blood, and men and stone and Khobi alike all drenched in the stuff.

Khobi also wasn’t moving, which really brought the scene to life. Especially since Gurdet’s sharp eyes could pick out the stutter of the redhead’s chest and the way wine seemed to be ebbing from his twitching throat as the pool drained around him.

"Mmm, perhaps I was mistaken," he remarked with a small shrug, as though it didn’t matter either way, wondering if he would actually have to order one of his men to intervene before his nephew’s fiancé say, died.

Thankfully at least a few of them had enough sense to not let that sort of thing happen –gods, what would Sile say? (Well, he’d probably laugh, and then accuse Gurdet of throwing aside his generous offering, but that was hardly the point) –and after some apparent trepidation they were bending down at Khobi’s side and were dragging him upright as best they could. Wine spilled from his mouth in a red torrent and he suddenly jerked, retching as his chest pitched in what must have been relief.

He shook as he coughed and spluttered, his whole body shaking and sagging into the guards that were propping him up as though he no longer had the strength to stand.

But when his eyes snapped open, the wicked gleam within them told an entirely different story.

Like a man possessed, or maybe some kind of feral beast, Khobi reared back with the full weight of his body, and wrenched away from the men loosely holding him. They careened off balance, and paid for their carelessness in pain when Khobi didn’t hesitate to sucker punch them.

Gurdet winced when the blows landed, because no one could claim that the redhead pulled his punches, and from the way the guards who’d been struck doubled over, they were about as painful as they looked.

And while they were incapacitated, Khobi made his move, launching himself forwards and blowing past the startled soldiers standing in his path.

His bare feet kicked wine into the air as he ran –like a horse might kick up mud on a winter’s day –spattering the soldiers in crimson. It might as well have been mud, too, for all the luck they had in pursuing him through it, their boots heavy and slipping precariously on the stone.

And when their feet slid out from under them, the sound their armour made when they on face-planted most unbecomingly on the flooding stone –well, that was just priceless.

Bogged down by their sodden cloaks and drenched finery, and trying their utmost to scramble to their feet, they looked –most unfortunately –more like a host of waterlogged rats than guards.

"What did I tell you, Xena?" Gurdetmused with a chuckle, watching the crowd part for their rebellious young guest as his feet trekked red across the clean stone and soldiers poured in from all directions to try and apprehend him.

It seemed like such madness from where he was sitting –nobles were rushing out of harm’s way but seemed somehow loathe to leave such a scene (and of course all having something to say about the affair), servants were scurrying around as inconspicuously as they could, collecting up anything precious that had not yet been destroyed (on Lord Sprida’s orders no doubt).

And his poor men down there were looking like right fools –being led a fine game by a single man, a brute drenched in wine and with eyes that burned with a brightness that he had not seen in a man in quite some time.

"He’ll be fine."