The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series
Page 6
“What are—”
“Shhh!” The terrified boy stared at the guard’s drawn sword with bulging eyes. “There are two men, I don’t know who they are, but they sound funny—different.”
“Men? What are you talking about?”
“Please, I need to see head archer Peter. I’ll take whatever punishment you want to give me, but please!”
The guard stared at him for a moment and then grabbed his ear, dragging Philip around the corner to where another guard slept. “Guy, wake up. Take this whelp to Peter.”
“Which Peter?” The guard was awake in an instant, much to Philip’s surprise.
“Head archer Peter,” Philip insisted. “Please hurry.”
“What for?” The guard became surly, as the reality of being ripped from sleep washed over him.
“Please, beat me later, but take me to him now.”
The first guard pointed toward the corridor. “Take him and quit grumbling. At least you’ve had some sleep.”
Peter, who slept in his own hut near the practice range, threw open his door, pulling on his tunic as he did. “What’s happening?”
“This boy walked right up to the—”
“Philip?”
“Yes. I have something to tell you, but—”
Instantly, the archer understood. He sent the guard away, thanking him for bringing the boy and listened to Philip’s tale. “Come with me. We must see Lord Morgan, and you must tell him what you’ve told me.”
“Dove— the child,” he swallowed and then used the distasteful name the villagers had given his friend. “The Ge-sceaft, she heard more than I did. We should call for her, but—”
After a few moments lost in thought, Peter agreed. He led Philip back to the gate and out a small door in the east wall. “Where is she?”
“Stay here. I’ll have to convince her, I think,” and with that, Phillip raced across the grass to where Dove hid in the tree.
“They want us to speak to Lord Morgan. They want you— you heard more—”
Before he could finish speaking, she jumped from the tree, landing on her feet as quietly as a cat. “Let’s go. I can’t be sure, but I think I saw them about a mile or so back. They’re going slower now.”
Philip led her to Peter, and together, all three of them climbed the castle stairs to Lord Morgan’s wing. His private guard led them into a sitting room and left another guard to watch them. Several minutes later, Charles Morgan stepped into his sitting room and heard the most incredible news of his life.
Philip, thoughtless of the impropriety of his actions, raced to Lord Morgan and in a jumble of incomprehensible words, detailed everything they’d heard. “Slow down boy. I don’t understand. What is this about Aurelia?”
A quiet but calm voice carried across the room from the fireplace. There, seated next to the glowing embers, Dove retold Philip’s tale. “We heard two men coming through the wood, my lord. At first, I thought they were travelers, but as I heard words like ‘take’ and ‘get away’, I assumed they were thieves. Then, I heard your name. Once we realized they planned to kidnap little Lady Aurelia, we came straight here to warn you, m’lord.”
The guard at their right scoffed. “As though they could get into the castle. My lord, it’s preposterous.”
“I think,” Dove added quietly, “If you consider that someone close to your daughter can allow or deny access, you’ll find it might not be as hard as you think.”
“Her nurse? You truly think that someone so trusted in my household…” Lord Morgan’s words trailed off as he thought. Dove bowed her head and tried to blend into the background, knowing that the chances of him taking their story seriously hinged on them forgetting that she was the town reject.
“We’ll move her. Just in case. I’ll have her nurse—”
“My lord, please!” The despair in her voice caught his attention. “Please carry her yourself,” she added quietly. “Don’t trust anyone.”
Philip’s head bobbed in agreement as Dove spoke. “I agree.”
“Lord Morgan, if you are going to take these,” the guard paused as he struggled to remain respectful, “children seriously, you can’t just move your daughter without a valid reason. It’ll alert whoever is at the root of this, if there truly is a problem, and we’ll never catch them. They’ll just repeat it when they think we feel safe.”
“What was your idea?”
“I suggest we feign a turn for the worse for your wife, say she wants to see her daughter one last time, and then return with just a sack of grain or something wrapped in her blankets.”
“No.” The quiet voice spoke from the hearth again.
“What is it, Dove?”
“The nurse would notice, my lord. A person should go back to Miss Aurelia’s rooms in her stead. If the nurse is responsible…”
“That is true,” the guard agreed reluctantly.
The cloak seemed to float across the room to Philip’s side. She whispered something into Philip’s ear and then stood behind him defensively. Philip cleared his throat and flushed miserably. “Dove does have a point, m’lord.”
“Well what is it?” Lord Morgan was growing impatient.
The boy stole a glance at the guards, waiting just as impatiently. “I’d rather— that is, I—”
“Go,” the lord of the castle, said quietly. Dove was impressed. She had assumed the lord would bark orders like his guards and higher-ranking servants, but instead, with a quiet word and a dismissive gesture, the room emptied of all but Philip, Dove, and the concerned father of Aurelia Morgan.
“What is it, Philip?”
“I,” Dove interjected quickly, “I think I should take your daughter’s place. She has fair hair, does she not?”
“Yes— how did you know?”
“I’ve seen her when you take her to the seashore, but that isn’t important now. I’m about her size. You can carry me back into her room. I don’t think the men will bind her— how could she get away? You can wait until I’m out of the castle and then approach. I’ll be listening and just jump and run, leading them right back toward you.”
Lord Morgan was quiet for some time before he nodded. “You’ve been thinking, little one. That didn’t occur to me.”
“I’ve had more time to think about it, but time is short.”
“Wait here.” Without waiting to see whether they obeyed, Lord Morgan hurried from the room, through his chambers, and burst into his child’s room as though frantic. The nurse bolted upright in bed.
“Lord Morgan! What—”
“Her mother is ill again. She won’t settle without kissing her child. I think it may be—” the lord’s voice choked. “We’ll be back soon.”
Swiftly, Lord Morgan carried his daughter, whispering comforts into her ears, through the castle to her mother’s room and then into her mother’s attendant’s quarters. “Watch the child,” he ordered, and without another word, exited the room and strode back toward his sitting room.
“Ok, she’s safe. Come with me.”
“I need her gown and a sheet to cover me.”
“We don’t have time—”
Philip shook his head and stood behind Dove. “Lord Morgan, I think she’s right. If they notice she’s wearing common clothing…”
Charles Morgan was already gone from the room. Philip hung his blanket over two tall backed chairs making a dressing screen for her. “Quick, get behind there and change. I’ll throw the gown over so Lord Morgan can’t see you.”
At that moment, Lord Morgan surged through the doors, carrying Aurelia’s blankets and nightdress. Philip grabbed them and tossed them over the blanket before Charles Morgan realized what happened. “She’s protecting herself and you, m’lord. Trust her.”
Seconds later, the child, wrapped in a makeshift cloak from a sheet, brought out the blankets and handed them to Lord Morgan. “I’m ready, my lord.”
“Your gloves— you’ll have to remove them. No one sleeps in gloves, child.”
As they left the great room, Lord Morgan whispered instructions on how to relax her legs and let them flop easily with any movement. He carried her to his daughter’s room and nestled her quietly in the bed, pulling the blankets up over her. The nurse scurried to her side to check on her, but Lord Morgan waved her back impatiently.
“Shh. She became agitated, so Malcolm Biggs gave her a draught of something to make her sleep. I do not want her awakened.”
A look in the nurse’s eyes confirmed the children’s fears. Kyra Greene was part of a plot to kidnap his daughter. The temptation to beat the information from her was fierce. His father would have done it without hesitation, but Charles Morgan was a shrewd man, and he knew he’d be more successful listening to the wisdom of his guardsmen.
“I’ll go to sleep then,” the nurse added, yawning widely. “I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“You should have plenty of time. She probably won’t wake until midmorning.”
He didn’t trust himself to say any more, so Lord Morgan turned on his heel and strode from the room. He looked as though dressed in his finest clothes, rather than the thick warm night robe he’d donned when summoned not quite half an hour ago. The nurse stared after him, laid a cool hand on the child’s forehead, causing her to bury herself into the covers, and smiled satisfied. Her brother and his friend were hiding in the child’s playroom, waiting for her signal.
“She’s back. Hurry now; hit me, and then leave the way I showed you.”
To his credit, Kyra’s brother Tom wasn’t keen on striking his own sister. The tall man next to him backhanded her, sending blood pouring from her nose and her eye swollen shut. A satisfied smile looked strange accompanied by her involuntary cry of pain. It truly was much too easy. “Go. I’ll stagger around the room a bit as though disoriented and then call for the guards. I can’t wait too long, though.”
The men carried Dove from the room, her head flopping around in the blankets and her arms and legs limp as though in deep slumber. It was difficult for her not to cry out when her cheek slammed into Dirk’s shoulder, but she managed. The other man, Tom, led the way through back stairs, little-used corridors, and then through a strange old tunnel that ran from the storage areas to the edge of Heolstor Forest, east of the castle.
After a long trek through the dark, rat-infested tunnel, a wall of stones halted their passage. Undaunted, Tom felt for the edge of each slab of slate that overlapped like a maze. There was scarcely enough room for a grown man to inch between the layers as they wove their way through the circular pattern until it ended in a blocked wall with nowhere else to go. “Found the entrance. I’ll just give it a shove,” he whispered to his companion.” Straining, he pushed at the bottom rock with his feet.
“What is this place anyway? It’s tighter than a miser with his gold.” The rush of cool night air interrupted Dirk’s complaints.
“They say it’s an altar from the time of the Druids. A grove of hemlock sprouted here about the time that the local minister arrived and scared away the last of ‘em, or so Kyra says.” He helped pull Dove through the opening and then offered his hand to Dirk. With a jubilant shout, he cried, “We’s made it Dirk!”
“Shh. For now. We need to get her to the caves, or they’ll find us. You are sure that no one will find us in these caves?”
“Kyra says only the Ge-sceaft goes near them and even it but rarely.”
Dove smiled. If they meant the Nicor Cliff caves, she could control the dragon. For some reason, it was as terrified of her as the villagers were. If they meant the caves on the other side of Heolstor Forest, in the Cliffs of Sceadu, she knew how to find her way back, as long as she escaped before they took her inside the caves. They’d catch these awful men, and in the words of Philip’s heroine from the Bible, if she perished, well— she perished.
Just inside the forest, the men stopped, laid her down awkwardly but gently, and rested. After a few minutes, Dirk climbed as high as he could up a tree to see if anyone was in pursuit, while Tom walked several feet away to relieve himself. When the men returned, Dove was gone.
“What— I thought she couldn’t walk!”
“She’s been foolin’ people all this time? I don’t think so. We’re fool’s eyes. Kyra has played us. Let’s get out of here before she brings the guards back for us.”
Tom refused to believe his sister would leave him floundering and started glancing around frantically for a little girl crawling into the underbrush. “To the caves.”
“The kid heard us say—”
Normally, Tom was happy to take orders from Dirk, but this time he revolted. “The kid was sleeping soundly. I must have woken her up when I put her down, but she was so limp there is no way she was awake. I saw her head hit your shoulder several times, and she didn’t make a peep.”
Dove flew across the fields, her sheet flapping behind her, unwilling to waste the time necessary to keep hidden. She knew that while smaller, she was quick; and the men were tired. Even if they gave chase, she’d still reach hearing distance of the castle before they could reach her. Within minutes, she arrived at the drawbridge, shouting and screaming for the guards to come. Horses thundered across the bridge, and she pointed directions for the first group of men to take. “They said the caves. I think they meant the Cliffs of Sceadu rather than those near Nicor, but I’m not sure.”
Horses pounded the turf across the fields, as Dove slipped quietly through the gate, weary and eager to find her friend. Philip darted across the courtyard with Lord Morgan on his heels. “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”
“They just laid me down and went about their business. I was a good hundred yards away before they even noticed I was missing.”
A servant appeared at her side and scooped the child up in his arms. Her surprise nearly cost Dove her secrecy, but she managed to jerk the sheet into place before it revealed her face to all. The man carried her as though unbothered by the great evils she was purported to wreak on unsuspecting victims.
“I’m so thirsty, Philip,” the girl admitted desperately, as she lay on a chaise near the fireplace of the room she’d left only an hour or so earlier.
Before Philip could respond, a glass was thrust at her. “Drink slowly but drink it all. You need the strength it’ll give you.”
She swallowed the wine quickly asking for water almost as soon as she’d emptied the cup. “I am truly very thirsty.”
“Have a bed readied for each of the children in upper chambers,” Lord Morgan directed a nearby servant. “Follow Jane. She’ll help you get settled.”
Just at the door, he stopped Dove, looking down at her ghostly shape and aware of the irony of her being the heroine of the hour. “I may owe you my daughter’s life, little one. I thank you.”
Chapter 8
Anti-Climax
Stretching comfortably, Philip sighed with pleasure. The bed was the softest, sweetest, smelling thing he’d ever seen or felt, and he did not want to get out of it— ever. He flopped back on the pillows once again, reveling in their plumpness. “I could get used to this bed. I wonder if Dove’s is as nice,” he muttered, as he forced himself to crawl from beneath the covers and peer through the narrow window.
Below, he saw Dove’s diminutive form as she walked slowly through the castle gates, onto the bridge, and then turned. It seemed as though she looked straight at him. Her hood slipped back the slightest bit, making him instinctively duck his head to protect her privacy. He pried one eye open to see if she’d pulled her hood back down and saw her walking toward the Wyrm Forest, as though she’d never paused.
He considered chasing after her. After all, they’d just been through the most thrilling adventure. Surely, she wanted to talk about it incessantly, as all girls of his acquaintance did. He’d thought perhaps they could try to find the path the men too
k to get there, or the secret tunnel they’d used to spirit her away from the castle. Instead, there she went, down the hill to the tree, and vanished just like the mists around “her” forest on a warm morning.
As strong as the temptation was for him to chase after her, he knew he shouldn’t. Lord Morgan had ordered their rooms and breakfast for this morning. Leaving would be rude— the thought froze in his mind the moment it entered. Why did it not seem rude that Dove had escaped the castle without another word, but for him to leave was, without question, an ungrateful thing to do? The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He was so thoroughly wrapped in his mental cocoon that he didn’t hear the servant enter to call him to breakfast.
“Oh! Um, what did you say?”
“I said that m’lord has breakfast waiting for you,” chirped a little girl not much older than Dove.
Somehow, the admiration on the child’s face suddenly made Philip feel much older and more mature than he’d ever felt in his life. Realizing the danger that Dove had walked so willingly into—that she’d planned for herself even—hit him like a fall from a tree and sucked the breath from him. She could have died. Why had Lord Morgan agreed to something so insane? Was Dove’s life worth so little, that they’d risk it so carelessly? What at first had seemed like an exciting adventure under cover of darkness, a bright moon, and with a friend, now felt like cruel folly that had endangered a vulnerable child.
He pulled the borrowed, and much too large, nightshirt over his head and pulled on his dirty clothes from the previous night. Outside his door, the little servant girl gave him a quick glance and then beckoned him to follow. They descended the steps of the back staircase and entered the kitchen.
The girl tugged on the sleeve of a busy woman and said, “He’s dirty.”
The moment the woman glanced up at him Philip realized she must be the child’s mother or older sister. They looked as much like twins as people separated by more than a decade could look. Without a second pause, the woman pointed to a basin of water on a large oak table. “Wash your hands and face, and get them clean before you dry off on that towel. Mind you, I’ll know if you did well by what you leave on the towel.”