by Mary Vee
The reins to the packhorse pulled taut when Promise stepped forward. Gilbert turned back and watched the horse behind him stiffen her legs, refusing to move. “Come on, Pokey, follow Promise.” He yanked twice on her lead rope. She shook her head and snorted. Gilbert clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers, to motivate the mare. “What are we going to do, Promise? She won’t budge.” Promise curled her neck around, snorted, and neighed at the packhorse then walked into the water. Pokey hung her head and took short tentative steps.
“That was amazing,” shouted Ben from the rear. “Have Promise talk to the rest of the horses too.”
While the water had risen only as high as the stirrups of Gilbert's destrier, the palfreys swayed in water up to their backs, working to stay afloat. “Keep your rides moving,” Gilbert ordered. “If they stop, you may not get them moving again.”
“My horse,” Katia called. “She’s stepped into deep muck. It’s sucking her leg down.” The mare teetered far to the right, throwing Katia into the water. The river swallowed her, sucking her under.
“The rest of you, get your horses across the river. Quick,” Gilbert ordered.
Katia burst through the surface and gulped for air. Droplets flowed down her face. She shoved them aside and swiped hair away from her eyes. “Is the food all right?”
Of all the things she could be most concerned about, Gilbert was surprised she chose that. “Yes, the food is fine. Can you mount your horse?”
“I don’t think I should.” She pushed on the horse’s side. “I can’t get her to move.” Katia shifted in the river current around to the front of the stubborn mare and pulled on the lead rope. Sybil jumped into the water and helped coax the horse along.
Gilbert shook his head. If his team couldn’t get across the river they’d never survive the quest. “Daniel and Jonathon, get your mares to the shore and help the steward. Justin, keep moving. The fewer rides in the river, the better.”
Ben’s mare refused to move around Katia’s horse. “Come on, Good Knight. You can do this. Just walk around that insubordinate, four-legged sloth.” He nudged and kicked, but Good Knight refused to go. “Fine. So, you want to be disobedient too? Guess I’ll have to dismount and drag you across.” He slid into the water and yanked her reins. “Good Knight, in case you were wondering, this isn’t funny.” He floundered on the unstable river bottom, bobbing up and down in the water, inch by inch toward shore.
Gilbert called out, “Charles, move your horse around them then call Ben and Katia’s mares to follow.”
Charles guided his horse around the frightened palfreys. “Getty up. C’mon, get-up.” His mare crossed the river with ease.
Katia’s mare pulled her hoof from the muck and followed Charles.
Ben’s horse whinnied. She put one hoof forward then slowly another. Good Knight broke free from Ben’s hold and took off across the river. “Hey, wait for me.” He smashed his hands down on the water. “That’s not fair, Good Knight. See if I give you an apple when I reach the other side. I don’t know how King Gilbert ever put up with you.”
Good Knight stopped five feet before the shore, turned back, and snorted at Ben.
Charles cupped his hands to his mouth. “Ladies, gentlemen, and king who stand on the shore. Our last two teammates are poised to entertain us with an exciting race. The skies are cloudy, and tempers are flying. Good Knight is challenging Sir Ben to a race for shore. Standing firm in the mucky Diaphonic River bottom, she holds her nose defiantly high, while Sir Ben wildly slaps the water in this fierce battle. I suppose he calls that swimming.”
Sybil stepped in next to Charles and continued the chant. “Ben is closing in. We have a tight race. The crowds are roaring.” Justin, Jonathon, Daniel, and Charles added the sound effects. “Yes, indeed, Ben is closing in. He has reached Good Knight’s hind legs and is attempting to stand in the water. Yes, you heard me right, he’s attempting to stand in the water. The brave Good Knight is holding her stance firm. Will she reach the shore in time?”
The squires cheered on their contestant. Charles resumed the report. “Ben is nearing the shore. He’s ready to pass Good Knight. I tell you, ladies, gentlemen, and king, this is an exciting race if there ever was one. With only three steps away Ben could win. Can he do it?” Good Knight raised her front hoofs and neighed. She splashed down in the water and sprinted for the shore. Her hoof touched the damp sandy beach a full second before Ben. “And there you have it. Good Knight is the winner. Good Knight is the winner! The crowds are going wild with enthusiasm. And…wait…no, Ben, you can’t kill the announcer.”
Ben dragged himself across the sand and over to Charles, his clothes and hair dripping on the beach, and pushed him to the ground. He squeezed water out of his tunic, drenching Charles. “Thanks, Ben.” Charles flicked water from his face.
“Now for you, Good Knight, how shall I punish you?” Ben stomped over to her.
Sybil smiled. “She sees your smirk, Ben. You’ve lost, and you know it.”
Good Knight nestled her nose next to Ben. She gave him a gentle push then neighed. Ben rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. I forgive you. This time. But it doesn’t mean you get an apple.”
Katia sat on a patch of grass and wrung water from her long hair. “I think we all deserve a snack.”
The squires licked their lips. Gilbert was hungry too. “Justin and Jonathon, fetch us some tasty morsels from the supplies while Katia rests.”
They brought the sweetmeats and portioned them out to everyone. The sun sank into the horizon as they ate the delicious treats. Everyone finally seemed content, and that made Gilbert happy. They had food in their stomachs, and they’d talked with each other.
The squires found a piece of dry ground to set up tents. Although exhausted from the day, the team wasn’t ready for sleep. Katia walked into the woods to set rabbit traps. Charles gathered wood then started a big fire.
The team talked about the battle and things they could have done to stop the dragon. Although the steward didn’t have knight training, he gave useful suggestions.
Katia unpacked cooking supplies then checked the traps and found three plump rabbits. She prepared the fresh catch adding spices and placed it in a pot over a crackling fire. The tempting aroma brought several squires closer to the food.
“Sire.” Ben stirred the coals.
“Yes?”
“Do you know the way to the Valley of Sharon since Sir Robert is no longer with us?”
Gilbert pointed to the east. “I know we need to go over that mountain. What we want is on the other side. We’ll simply search for a path in that direction. Unfortunately, that is all we can do.”
Berekhat Ram appeared larger in the shadows of the sunset than it had earlier in the day. Ben’s eyes widened. “You want us to scale that? We’ve never trained for climbing mountains.”
Gilbert watched the last shades of purple on the mountain fade to black. He couldn’t find a word to describe the breathtaking change in colors. “Technically it isn’t just a mountain. That is Berekhat Ram, a dormant volcano. It has not erupted in the whole history of the empire. We must climb it to save Aerlis. Therefore, we will.” His last words were more for himself than the others. A king couldn’t admit his own doubts and many questions about this quest and expect his team to continue.
The night passed without any new problems except the loud snores that churned, snorted, and chugged, disturbing the watchman and every nocturnal animal.
Chapter Forty-Five
As morning dawned, the aroma of gruel boiling over a fire aroused the camp. Gilbert smacked a muddy film in his mouth loose. His muscles ached from yesterday’s battle. He rubbed his sore arms then crawled out of the tent.
Katia and the steward sat at the campfire laughing at one of Ben’s stories. He could make a rock laugh. The theatrics came to an abrupt stop when Ben looked Gilbert’s way. “Good morning, sire.” He snapped to attention and saluted.
Gilbert rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Morni
ng.”
“Did I hear you say you wanted me to rouse all the lazy squires who are lollygagging? Why I’d be happy to, sire.” He bowed then crept to one of the tents.
Gilbert rubbed his hands next to the fire. “How are you feeling this morning, Steward?”
“I can’t deny discomfort, sire. However, I’m eager to continue this quest. What are your plans for today?”
Katia scooped gruel into a bowl. “Hungry, sire?”
Gruel was his least favorite food. He forced a smile and accepted the bowl. “Thank you, Katia.” The first bite required forcing a swallow. He set the bowl next to him and gazed at the mountain in the distance. “I’d like to be at the base by nightfall. I don’t really know if that’s possible. It’s difficult to tell the distance from here.” He took another bite, but only because his stomach ordered him to.
Sybil, Justin, and Jonathon stumbled out of their tents with ruffled hair and grumpy faces. Sybil yawned. “I’m sure there’s documentation that proves early rising leads to a stifled brain.” She turned back to her tent.
With the assistance of his brother, Jonathon grabbed Sybil by the arm and steered her toward the campfire. “We decided to have a stifled brain party and you’re invited.”
Next, Charles flew out of his tent. “Hey, I was only joking! I know you could hit that mountain with an arrow from two feet away. I’m not certain about four, though.” A satchel soared through the open flap and whomped Charles on the shoulder. “Owww. Stop it.”
Ben poked his head out of the flap. “Help me wake Daniel. Either he’s faking or he can sleep through an earthquake.”
Charles smirked. “As you wish, mon Capitaine.” He dashed to Ben’s aid, disappearing inside the tent. The canvas bulged to the left and the right. “Your life would last longer if you’d only come peacefully, Daniel.”
A few intelligible Daniel words broke through the din. “You’ll never get me out alive. I’ll fight to the finish.”
“All right, Daniel, you asked for it.” Ben and Charles walked out, each holding a satchel. They dumped the contents, ran to the river, then submerged the containers. Ben held his index finger to his lips, signaling everyone watching to keep their secret. Droplets splashed to the ground. Justin sneaked alongside his comrades and opened the flap.
Sploosh.
“Hey, what’s going on!”
Sploosh.
“I’ll get you!”
Ben and Charles darted out of the tent and raced towards the campfire. They stopped inches before the king. “Sire.” They bowed. “He’s up.” They gave a squire salute.
Daniel stumbled out after them. “You two are in such—” He froze when he saw them bowing to the king. “—trouble.” He flicked water off his face.
Gilbert tilted his head skyward. “I don’t see rain.” Ben and Charles burst out laughing. Gilbert laughed too. “Come, dry yourself at the fire.”
The drenched squire sloshed to a log near the heat and sat down. Ben handed him a bowl of hot gruel. Daniel warmed his hands by the fire and stewed over the cold wakeup call.
The more he grumbled, the more the squires and even the steward laughed. Daniel sighed in defeat, rolled his eyes, and accepted the bowl. “Someday, Ben, you’re going to get back at least half of what you give.”
“What would I do with another half bowl of gruel?” Ben jumped back to safety.
The steward wobbled while straightening up to a stand. “You’re a glutton for paybacks, Sir Ben.” He limped toward his tent. “Which reminds me, I need to update my log detailing what has happened on this quest.”
Jonathon looked down to the ground and whispered softly to Gilbert. “His injuries are my fault. If I hadn’t pinned him to the tree yesterday, he’d be fine today.” He peeked up at the struggling man. “I’ll be right back.” Jonathon disappeared into the woods, rustling through brush and farther from camp.
Gilbert helped the steward back to the log. “What’s he doing?”
“I have no idea,” said the steward, “but it appears to be a kind deed of some nature.”
Gilbert forced himself to swallow the last of his gruel about the time Katia joined them in the circle with her bowl in hand. Not long after, Jonathon rustled through the brush back into the camp and held up a six-foot-long olive branch. “This should help you.” He handed it to the injured man.
Steward grinned. “A fine specimen. Thank you.” He accepted the gift.
Jonathon folded his arms and nodded his satisfaction. “You’re welcome.”
Gilbert set his bowl down. “Now that we’ve all eaten, break camp. We’ll ride east. My goal is to reach the base of the mountain by nightfall. Ben and Charles, you’re in charge of packing the tents. Justin and Jonathon, help Katia clean up the meal and pack the food supplies. Sybil, Daniel, and I will prepare the horses. Steward, help wherever you feel you can.”
By the time they mounted their horses, the sun had dried the morning dew. They rode in teams of two with Katia and the supplies in the middle of the pack. Steward rode alongside Gilbert at his request. “We’re another day closer to the Valley of Sharon, sire.”
“Yes. I wonder how long it will take to get there. I thought we’d be farther by now.”
“The battle caused quite a delay, sire. Problems need to be calculated into our travel time. Who knows if the remainder of our quest will be problem free or not?”
A stag bounded through the trees to Gilbert’s right. It was the first one he’d seen in a long time. “Look.”
“I’m surprised,” said the Steward. “That is probably one of the last stags in Aerlis. The people are so hungry they’re hunting game to extinction.”
Gilbert couldn’t blame them. Soon they’d be forced to eat thistle soup. “All we can do is keep riding and not give up the fight.”
“Your conclusion is wise, sire. I only hope I can be of useful service.”
They broke through the last stand of trees and entered grasslands. Wildflowers like lavender, daisy, hyacinth, poppy, black-eyed Susan, and tiger lilies dotted the field spanning a great distance. The air had a sweet fragrance and surprisingly neither thistles or roses.
As they rode, red foxes sprang through the field, porcupines waddled across the trail, and grasshoppers leaped into the air. The honey-sweet fragrance reminded him of his mother’s gardens and Vista’s fields. He shaded his eyes happy to see the mountain appear bigger.
They rode to the top of a hill. At the crest, the riders looked back at the distance they’d covered then the field remaining to traverse. “There’s a pond up ahead,” said Gilbert. “We can eat and water the horses there.”
Daniel wiggled in his saddle. “Thank you, sire. My backside is really sore after all the riding yesterday.”
The others left Daniel to catch up and dismount at a soft patch of grass near the pond. Katia had unpacked the food and set to preparing the meal while the others worked on their chores and cared for the horses. Gilbert hiked ahead to a high wall of overgrown bushes blocking the path. Branches entwined in a tight web. Even with a machete and everyone’s help, it would take a long time to cut a path.
He trekked back to camp and sat by the steward. Katia handed him a bowl. “Thank you.” Gilbert took a bite and spoke softly to him. “I need your advice. We’ll be leaving this meadow shortly and entering that thick line of vegetation. Do you have any suggestions for how we can get through?”
The steward looked to the north and south. “Unfortunately, I’m not familiar with this area, sire. One of the knights who’d ridden this way said this is called the Valley of Baca. Other than the name, I’m not much help. From the last hilltop, there didn’t seem to be a clear passage to the base of the mountain.”
“Sir Robert, Matthias, or the trainer would have the experience to know the way. I wish they were here.” His father’s journal description would have to suffice. Go east. He was right. This quest wasn’t easy. “We’ll just have to trust our instincts and find the trail on our own.”
&nbs
p; He scraped the last of the food from the bowl and savored Katia’s tasty meal. Meat always tasted better than gruel. “Break camp.” They cleaned the area and mounted.
As they rode to the east, Gilbert searched the long vegetation barrier for a path that cut through the thick brush. A short way to the north, he found a possible opening. “Follow me, I think I found a path.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Thick laurel-green leaves formed a canopy and darkened the trail. Thorns poked out from bushes spearing the horses and riders. They rode over vines that crawled across the path. Low hanging branches snagged their hair and clothing. Ahead, sparks of sun broke through holes in the canopy, shining remnants of light on the path.
Deeper in, a thick humid cloud seasoned with mosquitoes swarmed at them, viciously attacking as if they hadn’t sucked blood from a human since birth. The riders swatted at the pesky insects and urged their mares to gallop faster into the dense vegetation.
Vines hung down from high branches like curtains. The darker the path grew, the quieter the riders became.
Katia hummed a soft melody, one Gilbert remembered hearing his mother sing long ago. Katia’s voice rang sweetly but it also quivered. She paused. “How much farther, sire?” Her voice trembled. “It’s dark. I hear strange snapping noises.” She paused. “I think someone is following us.”
A similar sound caught his attention earlier. “It’s most likely an animal defending its lair.” Still, she might have a sense about these things. “Watch for unusual activity, everyone,” he commanded.
“Yes, sire.” No sooner had the words left their mouths than a small flock of crows dove down and attacked. The squires screamed and wildly waved their arms at the birds. Suddenly, the crows fled, as if they had been signaled. Gilbert wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He turned to his team. “Is anyone hurt? Do we need to stop?”
