Lehrling marveled at the remarkable beast. He had never seen such a creature, but he was nowhere envious enough to ever want one.
Near the far end of the long table, a young lady dressed in a long flowing, emerald green robe sat. Her red hair flowed down her shoulders and spilled over her breasts. She sipped from a tall tankard and her attention focused momentarily on Lehrling and Bausch. Lehrling didn’t know her, but her brief interest stirred his curiosity. Something else about her caught his attention. Her robe. The colors.
Was she the lone rider on the night trail? He had assumed the rider to be a male, but at the distance between them, she could have easily been the one carrying the torch.
Her piercing blue eyes met his. Her ears held no pointiness, so he assumed her to be a human. The coldness in her gaze forced him to glance away. Moments later, he dared to look her direction again. Her attention was with the elf and human knights seated near her.
Something about her kept his focus gauged toward her. Her aura spoke volumes of her elegance, authority, and mannerisms. She wore a signet ring, but from the distance, he was unable to identify the seal. Her bracers were studded with large rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. She had great wealth, but he didn’t know which royal family she had descended from, if any. However, the contours of her face and the serious expression she kept while talking to the two knights indicated she was a woman of powerful prominence. And if so, why had she arrived on horseback without an entourage?
“So, knights,” Staggnuns said. “What’s this I hear of Hoffnung falling to the Vykings?”
“Sadly, this is true,” Lehrling said. His eyes reflected the sadness in his voice. “Queen Taube is dead.”
The entire banquet hall fell to stunned silence. All suddenly focused upon the conversation at the King’s table. The woman in green formed a bridge with her fingers and set her chin upon them.
Anger stirred in Staggnuns’ gaze. “That is the news Dwiskter gave as well. We have the body of one fallen Vyking, and should any others dare come close to our gates, we will kill them as well.”
Prince Luxille twirled a strand of his long moustache around a finger. He said to Lehrling, “What are your plans now?”
“Originally, we planned to go to Woodcrest, but since our detour led us here, we will head to Glacier Ridge instead,” he replied.
“A town of thieves and assassins? Why there?” Staggnuns asked.
“We seek members of the Dragon Skull Order. Some of our knights pass through many unruly towns. It seems the most logical place to visit first, especially since we are this close.”
Luxille smiled. “A town without order? Seems more illogical to me.”
“Maybe,” Lehrling said. “But it is the quickest township to reach south of here. Once there, we will let the townspeople know of the Vyking invasion into Aetheaon and that they’ve sent out scouts. A large group headed toward Woodcrest while five followed us on the ridge road here. The quicker we get the word out, the better. Besides, thieves talk for a few gold coins.”
“True,” Staggnuns replied, “but they also kill you if they know you’re worth more. A thief can never be fully trusted.”
A sharp pain stabbed at Lehrling’s side. He winced and placed his hand tightly against his ribs.
“You took a nasty fall outside,” Luxille said. “Our medic has advised that you stay in Icevale for a few days to give yourself time to heal.”
Staggnuns nodded. He puffed his pipe and then he said, “The Dragon Knights are always welcome here.”
“I appreciate the kind offer,” Lehrling said. “But we cannot afford to linger too long. Besides, I feel much better than when we first arrived.”
“Aye,” Luxille said. “That’s the medic’s elixir. It’s only a temporary pain reliever. Once it wears off, you’ll be at the mercy of your injuries once more. We saw no need for you to suffer during our evening festivities. Besides, a hearty meal and lots of rest will help mend you quicker.”
Lehrling sighed. He knew the advice was something he should heed. However, the Order needed to be brought together as quickly as possible. Otherwise, Waxxon’s hold on Hoffnung would continue to increase. While the chaos lingered, they held a better chance to rally those still loyal to Queen Taube into rising up against Waxxon. Without those inside the walls of Hoffnung to support them, their chances greatly diminished to retake the throne. Besides, he still held to the hope that Lady Dawn was alive and needed rescuing.
He looked at Bausch and said, “I believe it’s best that we travel to Glacier Ridge when the sun rises.”
King Staggnuns gave a disappointed smile. “An army cannot be assembled in only a few days. You must gather together loyal numbers and have an effective strategy. Before you make your final decision to leave Icevale, I suggest that you wait to make the decision in the morning when your thoughts are clearer.”
“Fair enough,” Lehrling replied.
“Fill your bellies. Tomorrow will come soon enough. New adventures. May our gods enrich your dreams with sound premonitions.”
Staggnuns raised his mug high and everyone seated at the table exclaimed, “Here, here!”
After several tankards of ale and a couple more servings of food, King Staggnuns invited all his guests to join him in the ballroom for music and dance. Lehrling hoped that he might get close enough to the mysterious woman, but when he entered the ballroom, she stood across the room still talking to the elf and human knights.
The seriousness in her expressions while she talked and listened indicated that she held no interest in dancing or listening to the bard’s tales. An urgency kept her brow creased, and he wondered what she discussed with the two knights. He also wondered which kingdoms they were from. They wore polished armor with bright colored capes. Not battlefield attire, but something high ranking knights under a strong king wore when either negotiating with another kingdom or offering their assistance in diplomatic affairs.
His curiosity grew stronger since he didn’t recognize their colors, either.
Chapter Thirteen
Dawn awakened on a pile of loose hay in the corner of a moldy room. The room was only six feet across in either direction. It was like a small prison cell. Pale light spilled through the small window in the door.
She touched her face and winced. Her cheek was tender and swollen. Her jaw ached from where Balo had backhanded her the night before. She had never liked him whenever her father had taken her to the stables to see the horses. Now, she liked him even less. In fact, she despised him, and her anger prevented fear from controlling her.
She reached up and touched her hair. In a lot of ways, she missed her long flowing curls, but after all of last night’s events, she was glad that Nessa had cut it.
Dawn thought of Nessa. The poor old maid’s heart had given out. She hated to think that her death was for the best, but she didn’t see how the old woman could have continued travelling with her. Dawn certainly couldn’t imagine leaving Nessa behind for whatever horrors would soon overtake the residents of Hoffnung.
Everyone she loved and held dear to her heart was dead. Waxxon occupied Hoffnung, or at least that was what her mother had indicated when she sent Dawn into hiding.
Waxxon had been a knight before the battle against the Dredgemen. After the war, he had been titled with Lord, due to his courage during the battle, although the details about his deeds of bravery and accomplishments were rather vague and sketchy. A great orator, Waxxon was able to sway people, including her mother, to sympathize to his cause. He had gained wealth and politic status at a rapid pace.
Any time Dawn had seen Waxxon in the courts, he seemed shifty, secretive, and untrustworthy. She never liked the condescending way he looked at her and her mother. He displayed his lofty, arrogant attitude as though he was royalty, and they were the lesser vassals. Something about the darkness in his eyes unsettled her. He was always resentful or defiant in how he regarded their royal seats of power. Rarely did he bow properly when he came before t
he throne. His allegiance always seemed to lie elsewhere. And now, she understood her uneasiness toward him.
He was a traitor.
Such an invasion upon her kingdom didn’t happen overnight or by accident. His part in this had taken a lot of careful planning. Once she resided upon Hoffnung’s throne, she’d ensure that he’d be put to death. Not a quick death though, she thought. He’d think long and hard about his betrayals before his final breath escaped his lips. That was, unless she met him in battle and the opportunity arose for her to strike him before she regained her mother’s throne.
Her mind plotted with so many ways to reclaim Hoffnung, but the one thing holding her back was building an army vast enough to sweep the kingdom and kill all of its traitors. It was possible to hire a small band of mercenaries that might succeed in assassinating Waxxon, but a thundering horde of warriors raining down on Hoffnung to remove the tyrant made a grander statement.
Dawn stood from the musty molded hay bed. The room swirled around her. Quickly, she placed a hand against the cold rock wall to keep from falling. After the dizziness passed she kept her hand against the wall while she took a few steps toward the small wooden door. She looked through the tiny barred window. The outer hall was brighter than her room, but not by much.
Directly across the hallway was another door just like hers. She had no way to determine how long the hallway was or how many rooms like hers lined the dim corridor. She never even knew these rooms existed.
Keys rattled and echoed farther down the hallway. She retreated into one of the corners away from the door. Hinges creaked. The keys rattled and more hinges moaned. The sounds became closer, and by the time the keys clanged outside her window, a dozen cells had been opened, if she had counted correctly.
When her door opened, Balo’s face tightened with anger. “So, thief, I ought to make you sit in here all day without food and water, but you have too much work to do.”
Dawn stared at the fat man with apparent defiance in her eyes. She didn’t even realize that she was doing so. The whip snapped and cracked an inch from her face, snapping her alert. But his action had not made her flinch, which drew his interest and sudden anger.
“I don’t recall seeing you with these other peasant lads, but with all the chaos in Hoffnung, that doesn’t surprise me. Many children are now without parents. Are ye a peasant orphan?” he asked, with a sneer curving his upper lip.
She refused to reply.
He laughed and stepped outside the door. Motioning her to come into the hallway, he said, “Those are the hardest to break, but they’re not impossible. Even the most disobedient cannot outlast the whip. Isn’t that right, Mousy?”
A blonde haired boy nodded but kept his gaze upon the floor. He stiffened as if expecting the whip to lash him. His lower lip held a constant pout. His facial expression was that of a broken child, lost and without hope.
“Can’t hear you,” Balo said, flipping the whip. It cracked beside the boy, sending the lad to his knees. His lips trembled, and he hugged himself.
“Yes, Lord,” Mousy replied.
Lord?
Balo grabbed Dawn’s shoulder and yanked her into the hallway. “What’s your name?”
“Donne,” she replied, deepening her voice.
He shoved her and said, “In line with you, then!”
She made the mistake of turning her back toward him. An instant later the tip of the whip struck and snapped the center of her back. The pain was softened only slightly by the cloth Nessa had wrapped around her to hide the bulge of her small breasts. However, the lash still hurt enough to make her gasp and wince. Instead of tears, her jaw tightened. She swore vengeance under her breath.
“Get moving, the whole lot of you,” he said, cracking the whip again.
The dozen lads ahead of her walked in a straight line. She followed, trying to figure out how she might escape. Balo she could easily outrun if the opportunity came, but there had to be reasons why the others had never attempted to flee. What kept them here?
Burning pain gnawed at the center of her back. She couldn’t imagine how severe the pain would have been without the cloth wrap. Although the pain was fading, her resentment toward Balo blossomed.
The dozen boys grabbed rakes, spades, and buckets and headed toward the garden. She took a bucket and started to follow, not really sure what she was supposed to do.
“No,” Balo said, snapping the whip at her. “Other tasks await you.”
She placed the bucket on the ground, turned, and looked at him. He handed her tiny handheld scoop. She took it and looked at it questioningly.
“To the stables. That horse that you admired so much?”
She nodded.
“Use that to get every last matted wad of manure off the stable floor.”
“Why not—”
The whip snapped and flogged her left shoulder. She gasped. The stinging pain shot down her arm. She dropped the hand trowel and instantly grabbed her fresh injury. She winced and fought burning tears.
“Never question my authority, peasant, or the next strike will be on your lips. Do you understand?” he asked, drawing the whip back.
She nodded but her anger never left her piercing brown eyes. She whispered, almost hoarsely, “Yes.”
“Now,” he said, “take that and do as I instructed. If the stall is not to my liking when I return, it will be ten lashes across your bare back. Understood, boy?”
Dawn nodded.
Balo frowned sternly until she picked up the trowel and headed for her horse’s stall. She kept a watch over her shoulder to prevent him from snapping her back a second time. He finally turned and went to the garden to oversee the other peasant boys.
Satisfied that he was not following her, Dawn hurried to Keela’s stable, but her horse was not there. Heartbroken, she realized that the mare was probably grazing. The stall door stood wide open. Piles of trampled manure and hay littered the floor. The odor was bad enough from where she stood in the hall. She looked at the tiny scoop and back at all the manure. There wasn’t a way to clean that stall without covering her hands with manure.
The stable master had not given her a set time to get the job done. She figured the task required a day or two with the tool he had allowed her to use. Instead of heading into the stall, she crept down the hall to the stable door. The metal latch was bolted and locked. The thick wooden doors were solid. With her small frame, she wasn’t strong enough to pry a board off even if one was loose.
Her shoulder burned. She pulled back the collar of her shirt until she glimpsed where the whip had struck her. The welt was bright red and turning bluish-purple. The cruelty others inflicted made Dawn realize that she’d have to remain alert and not ever let her guard down. It had only taken her a moment, a simple lapse in observation, for his whip to strike and pop her hard. That was a mistake she would not soon forget.
Dawn spent a few more minutes inspecting the doors. She didn’t find one space between any of the slats where she could look out and see the royal yards outside the castle. Of course, she was standing in the stables that housed her mare and her father’s stallion. The building would be sturdily constructed.
She turned and rather than obey Balo, she considered returning to the hidden trapdoor. Venturing back into the sewers might be dangerous, but it was a better option than having to get on her hands and knees to dig and loosen dung for the better part of the day. She sprinted down the hall, past Keela’s stall, and around the next wall where the trapdoor was.
Her throat tightened and all of her hope dropped in an instant. A large wagon filled with hay had been rolled into the stable. One rear wheel was atop the door. She felt defeated. Like the goddesses and fate had turned against her. Could there ever be anything set in her favor?
Dawn pushed the wagon, but she couldn’t get it to budge. One of the heavy iron wheels weighed four times her weight. As hard as she tried, she never moved the wagon an inch.
She closed her eyes, wanted to scream,
and instead, she sought the deep resolve within to prove that she’d do whatever was necessary to fulfill the vow she had made to reclaim her kingdom. So, if she had to get filthy and grimy to appease the goddesses—provided they existed—then that’s what she’d do.
Chapter Fourteen
Waxxon’s guards marched down the streets of Hoffnung in an orderly fashion, stepping out of line only to confront any they suspected as remaining loyal to Queen Taube. For those that were, death came quickly. Dead bodies were scattered along the streets and alleyways as the guards determined who was actually loyal to the new King Waxxon. With dead bodies as lying testimonies, the overwhelming majority pledged newfound undying loyalty to Waxxon, taking a bronzed cloth patch bearing Waxxon’s image to have sewn onto their tattered clothes.
Frightened children and women peered from windows and balconies above the town. Some men quickly accepted a Waxxon badge and fled to their shops and homes, trying to get out of sight.
While the guards marched, deciding who lived and who died, the Vykings warriors busied themselves with more recreational activities after helping Waxxon kill guards still loyal to the crown. The rejuvenated warriors searched for taverns and maidens to pass the time until their dispatch to neighboring hamlets, townships, and other cities came.
Caen, a knight of the Dragon Skull Order, peered out from a narrow alleyway. With his armor and the dragon pendant, he was an easy target for Waxxon’s men should they spot him. He’d fight to the death before giving up the pendant, or denying his allegiance to his Queen. He was prepared to kill as many of Waxxon’s guards that he could before his inevitable death.
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