Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension

by Leonard D. Hilley II

  “And what was that?” she asked.

  “Trying to rape a woman in another alleyway. His kind doesn’t need to live.”

  “Because he’s a Vyking?”

  Caen shook his head. “No. I’m not referring to his race, but what he is at his core. A murderer. A plunderer. Those kinds of individuals are found within every race. It’s what harbors the most destruction for all.”

  “I agree.”

  Caen huffed and sheathed his blade. “Then let’s go. I’m certain this skirmish has probably been heard by others on the adjoining streets.”

  Dawn held the horse’s bridle tightly when he attempted to take Baymont. She pointed at the corpse. “Take his armor and wear it. What you wear of the Dragon Knight Order we can put into this bag for when it’s safe for you to wear it again. Until then, wear his.”

  “I’m not a Vyking. Anyone can see that the moment they rest their eyes upon me.”

  “I don’t care. Wearing the black armor of the Order is certain to get us both killed.”

  “Abandoning the armor is almost like shunning my allegiance to the Order.”

  “I’m certain the late king would not have viewed it as such, if doing so ensures that you live to carry out your oath.”

  Caen frowned and studied her eyes for a few moments. Finally, a slight smile crossed his face. “I’m surprised that you took one strike from the stable master’s whip. But you still act more educated than a simple peasant.”

  “Sorry I’m not ignorant enough for you,” she said, frowning and turning away.

  “Don’t be,” Caen said, walking toward Sammis’ corpse. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’d rather you be more smart than stupid. Such a deficit of mind would be deadly for both of us along our journey.”

  “At least we can agree on that.”

  He laughed. “Spirited until the end, eh?”

  “It’s kept me alive this long.”

  “Do know that when you’re accompanying me to wherever we must journey, that I do the talking when we happen upon other parties. Is that understood?”

  Dawn offered a nod and a slight bow. “Of course. You’re the knight.”

  “Good. Because your mouth is apt to get us into more trouble than me wearing this oversized Vyking armor.”

  She frowned but bit her tongue. He was right, and unless she wanted to keep drawing Caen’s suspicions, she needed to be more modest and less forthright. A knight had the right to put a squire into his, or in Dawn’s case—her—rightful place. And with him offering to train her with a sword, he could brutally punish her during her lessons.

  Caen quickly removed his dark leather armor. Each piece that he removed, he handed to Dawn. She placed his armor into the burlap sack. Then she helped Caen remove the Vyking’s armor. The Vyking’s body was covered with numerous tattooed runes. She had never seen such markings.

  She handed pieces of the armor to Caen and then buckled it into place. After he put it on and strapped it as tightly as possible, the armor still hung loosely on his body.

  “I’m fairly certain this will draw a lot more attention to me than the Dragon Skull armor,” he said.

  “Perhaps you’ll grow into it,” she said with a slight grin.

  Fury claimed his icy blue eyes and facial features. She offered a sincere bow and gently shook her head. She truly believed his anger was more from having to remove his Dragon Skull Order armor than anything else.

  “Apologies, My Lord. All we need is to get outside the gates. Then, you can change back.” She snickered, trying to suppress the growing laughter welling inside her, but eventually gave in and released a huge roll of laughs. She leaned against the wall to keep from falling down. Her face reddened, and she gasped for air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop. But the laughter felt good and something she needed to rid herself of the growing turmoil bitterly growing inside her.

  Caen’s jaw tightened, but after watching his squire succumb to the seemingly endless fit of laughter, his anger subsided somewhat. He grabbed Baymont’s reins and swung onto the saddle. The sternness of his gaze shrank, and he smiled broadly. “The sooner, the better.”

  She wheezed, choking back tears. Once her voice stabilized a bit, she said, “I’m sorry, Caen.”

  He half chuckled and shook his head. He didn’t scold her, and she thought better of him for not ensuing a harangue, even though a squire probably deserved some additional harsh remarks to remind him of his place.

  Dawn placed the short sword into a sheath on her belt, slung the burlap bag carefully over her shoulder, and took hold of Baymont’s bridle. With Caen as her knight, she held the hope that Hoffnung would return to its glory. But she also hoped that they were able to get outside the city walls without being noticed by Waxxon or his guards. The Vykings were a lesser concern, not that she thought Caen could pass for one, but they might not give more than a glance at him since he wore their armor. Of course, upon closer inspection, questions were inevitable about who Caen actually was. In their eyes he was an imposter, and she wasn’t certain exactly how they’d react, but it wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  They were at the end of the alley and almost onto one of the main streets when Dawn glanced back over her shoulder and noticed several of Waxxon’s patrols standing over the decapitated Vyking. She quickly darted around the corner onto the main street. Caen followed on Baymont.

  Their best chance was to keep moving, regardless if Waxxon’s guards had noticed them. However, they would know that Caen was wearing the dead Vyking’s armor. Without realizing it, Dawn walked faster. A few hundred feet away was Hoffnung’s open gates. That was their only hope.

  “You there! Upon the horse!” One of the guards shouted. “Stop!”

  Caen didn’t slow the horse, nor did he glance back. Instead, he said, “Donne, be ready. I’m going to pull you onto the horse, and we’re rushing for the gates.”

  Dawn nodded.

  In seconds, Baymont galloped toward her. Caen grabbed her beneath the arm and pulled her upward. She grabbed Baymont’s mane and heaved herself over the horse’s neck. Caen grabbed the burlap bag and then he kicked the horse’s flanks. The horse bolted for the gates.

  “Stop them!”

  Confused guards near the gates turned their attention to the galloping horse, but seeing the Vyking armor, they hesitated. By the time they realized Caen wasn’t a Vyking, they didn’t have time to lower the gates. He tapped the horse’s flanks again. Baymont reared and ran straight at the guards. Rather than stand to be trampled, they quickly dove out of the way.

  The horse slid on the white cobblestone as they exited the front Hoffnung gates. He tugged the reins slightly to the left, and the horse dug against the cobblestone and gained some traction.

  Two guards rushed outside of the gate on foot. They drew their swords, but two quick consecutive arrows dropped them both.

  Caen glanced around, trying to find the archer.

  “This way!” Sarey said, from between two thickly branched firs. She wore a forest green hood and cloak and a dark brown shirt and tattered pants. Had she not stepped from her hiding place and motioned them toward the narrow woodland trail, she’d have remained invisible. “Our hamlet isn’t far. It’s the safest place you’ll find for now.”

  “How did you know that I’m not a Vyking?”

  Sarey laughed. “I’ve killed a few of them, and they all outsize you. Even the youngest of them are taller than you.”

  Caen blushed and headed down the woodland path. As the bend turned and descended slightly, large boulders and trees blocked the view of the gates from either direction.

  Sarey rode her horse up beside his. “Best to put your squire down and let him walk,” she said. “Others of my hamlet are hidden in the trees with bows and plenty of arrows to fire. We need not hurry too much.”

  “What’s your name?” Caen asked.

  “Sarey. And you?”

  “Caen.”

  “Been watching the gates since
the sunrise,” she said. “Waiting. Should Waxxon have exited, I’d have killed him.”

  “Sarey?” Caen asked, trying to identify her.

  “Sarey, daughter of Joss.”

  “Pig-sty Tavern in the Esgrove hamlet?”

  She grinned and her eyes brightened. “You know it?”

  “Only been there once or twice.”

  “I don’t recall seeing you.”

  “Perhaps you were hunting?”

  Sarey laughed. “Perhaps.”

  Dawn lowered herself from the horse and stood, grabbing the burlap bag. Her back ached with burning pain where her scab was.

  “You’re good with that bow,” Caen said with a smile.

  Sarey smiled but didn’t say anything. Her eyes stared into Caen’s. A tinge of jealousy shot through Dawn as she watched them stare a bit too longingly into one another’s eyes.

  “Why the Vyking armor?” Sarey asked.

  “My squire’s idea. He believes it’s better than wearing my Dragon Skull armor.”

  Sarey nodded and gave Dawn a wink. “Smart idea. Camouflage works wonders. Even if it’s oversized. How long has he been your squire?”

  “Rather recently,” Dawn said.

  Sarey frowned. “A bit forthright, aren’t you?”

  Dawn bit her lower lip and looked away, remembering what Caen had said about letting him do the talking.

  “At times,” Caen said, “but smarter than most.”

  “So you’re of the Dragon Skull Knights?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Two of yours were here yesterday.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Bausch and Lehrling.”

  “Are they still in Esgrove?”

  Sarey shook her head.

  “Where did they go?” Caen asked.

  “Not sure, but my guess is they headed south toward Woodcrest unless they chose to head to Icevale instead.”

  Caen glanced south for a moment. A grim expression hung on his face. Hurt reflected in his eyes.

  “They really had no choice,” Sarey said. “They killed two Vykings and the injured dwarf with them killed several of Hoffnung’s traitorous guards. Two large raiding parties exited the city gates not long after we had talked. The four of us would never have had a chance against that many.”

  “I know. Just wish I had been able to join them last night. Finding them now might be difficult.”

  Sarey nodded. “The dwarf took an arrow from one of the city guards. With his injuries, they might have taken him to Icevale.”

  “You think I should head there first?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a gamble either way.”

  “But you didn’t see another Dragon Skull Knight?” Caen asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “I got separated from Donavan last night. I fear he may be dead.”

  Dawn recalled the man’s name from the list of knights on her father’s table. Even though she didn’t know him, she grieved. The Order barely had two-dozen or so members. Losing one this early wasn’t good.

  “No one by that name has been to Esgrove last night, or today.”

  Caen sighed, allowing sadness to weigh upon him.

  As they continued walking, twigs and brittle tree needles crisped beneath their feet. A gentle breeze rustled leaves overhead. The wall of trees on both sides of the sloping pathway created a protective barrier that brought a sense of comfort in spite of the invaders. A low-lying mist hovered inches above the forest floor. Smooth boulders and fallen, decaying trees littered the forest ground. Also scattered amongst the thick tree trunks were deep mounds of lush green moss and colorful mushrooms.

  Dawn found the sweet scents and soothing sounds of the forest pathway to be pleasant and much more different than the scented perfumes and powders she had grown accustomed to inside the castle. She had relied upon those luxuries for so long that she never once considered how the areas outside of Hoffnung were. The one thing that she missed the most about being inside the castle and having servants was having a cook and a place to dine. Her stomach growled, a bit louder than she expected, and her face reddened. Her eyes widened.

  Sarey chuckled and said, “Getting hungry, squire?”

  “Famished.”

  “And you?” Sarey asked, glancing up at Caen.

  He nodded. “I could eat.”

  “It’s not much farther. There’s a roaring fire in my father’s tavern with a pot of rabbit stew simmering above it.”

  The thought of warm food made Dawn’s mouth water. Those times when she had hunted with her father, they had killed what they needed to eat, but the trips weren’t ever too far from the castle walls. The temple tower was always within view. But now she wondered how much time would pass before she set foot inside the city walls again.

  She glanced through the trees but the city walls or the tower were no longer within sight. A bit of apprehension brought a sick feeling to her stomach. She felt like she was betraying her father, mother, and their ancestors by travelling away from Hoffnung rather than staying nearby to overtake Waxxon’s hold on her kingdom. But there wasn’t anything she could do without an army to back her. Even though she knew that, she couldn’t shake what felt like partial cowardice in leaving when the citizens and those still loyal to Queen Taube needed her most.

  The path turned darker with compacted black soil, and the surrounding trees were bigger, thicker. Thick plush moss with faint purple flowers coated the bases of the trees. The tree’s canopy shielded them from the sunlight. Squirrels, chipmunks, and birds sought hiding places in the dark forest. A bluish-gray fox turned to look at them for a moment before sprinting farther into the woods.

  Dawn placed her hand to the hilt of her short sword. The metal was cold, unfamiliar, but her fingers searched for their rightful place where it felt the most comfortable should she need to draw the blade quickly. She partway envied Sarey for having a bow. Dawn loved using the one her father had made for her and wished she had the weapon now. The sword was a new tool that she was not familiar with, but she couldn’t wait until Caen trained her how to use it efficiently. Then afterwards perhaps, he’d train her to use a dagger as well.

  While her thoughts shifted, Sarey and Caen continued talking about various places to hunt and fish. She couldn’t help but notice the woman’s interest in Caen, and Dawn found her jealousy growing, which was an emotion she had never dealt with before. She didn’t like this new inner fury and the threatened feeling she had that she might lose Caen. The mixture of emotions alarmed her.

  Of course, Caen had every right to be interested in Sarey, who was attractive in a rugged sort of way. Since he didn’t know that Dawn was actually a female, she couldn’t expect that he’d be attracted to her, and it was too early to reveal who she really was. She had no doubt that Caen would do everything in his power to protect her, especially if he knew she was Hoffnung’s rightful queen, but keeping her secret that she was the living princess of Hoffnung remained a necessity.

  Several times she had caught herself staring at Caen a bit too long, which caught him by surprise. Each time, she quickly looked away. When he asked what was bothering her, she had shrugged and simply replied that her mind had drifted. She feared the look in her eyes might have revealed too much of her infatuation, a hint of lust, and if so, she needed to control how she glanced at him from now onward.

  The black path sloped downward and turned to the left. The trees thinned and the midday sun brightened the road. Ahead was a large golden field of wheat bending in the breeze. Dozens of peasants used sickles to cut down the stalks while others tied them into bundles.

  The dark road cut through the field and several small huts with thatched roofs stood in a long row.

  Sarey smiled and pointed. “Pig-sty Tavern is just beyond those houses.”

  Dawn scanned the divided field as they walked. All were laborers. None of them were warriors or equipped with weapons.

  “And what happens should the Vykings enter your vil
lage?” Dawn asked. “How will you defend yourselves?”

  Sarey glanced from Dawn to Caen. Caen said, “That’s a good question.”

  “Neither of you noticed the hidden archers in the dense forests as we headed to Esgrove?”

  “No,” Caen said.

  Sarey laughed. “Then I think we’re in good hands here. They can drop Vyking patrols before they even know they’ve been fired upon.”

  Dawn couldn’t hide her astonishment. Not only was she impressed that peasants were capable of maneuvers equivalent to expert militants, these were the types of people she needed.

  “That surprised you, squire?” Sarey asked.

  “It’s impressive,” Dawn replied with a firm nod.

  “Indeed.”

  Sarey slung her bow over her shoulder and said, “Come. Let me get us some drinks and food before the servants return from the fields for lunch.”

  Sarey tapped her horse’s flanks and galloped ahead of them, down the dark path, and hurried to Pig-sty Tavern. Dawn was envious of Sarey’s energy and strength. There was a glow of power and boldness in the woman, unlike any of the male guards she had watched in her mother’s courtroom or those out on patrol. Of course, those men she had seen during a time of peace. Sarey possessed ruggedness and lacked fear. Her rough hands showed that she didn’t flinch at real work, either.

  Dawn was weary. Her feet ached. The torn skin between her shoulders where the whip had struck her was tight and painful.

  Looking at her filthy blistered hands, she cringed, but the dirt and dried manure hid the fact that she wasn’t one experienced at menial labor. In spite of her need to keep her identity unknown, she wanted the ground-in dirt and manure washed off. What she’d give for a hot bath to wash the grime off her body and relieve the itchy spots around her sore breasts. Pain throbbed throughout her entire body.

  “You okay?” Caen asked.

  “Tired and hungry.”

  “You’ve not traveled on foot very far before?”

  She shook her head.

  “I told you that you should have taken a horse, too.”

  Dawn forced a tired grin. “I know. But I’ll be okay.”