“You’re . . . a woman?” she asked in a near gasp.
Nervously, Dawn placed her hands over her breasts and nodded.
“Does Caen know?”
Dawn frowned. “No, and I want it kept that way.”
“Why are you posing as a squire?”
“I have no choice at the moment.”
Sarey cocked a brow. “Why?”
“You must swear yourself to secrecy at all costs.”
Sarey gave a slight nod. “Certainly.”
“Swear it on your life and by all you deem sacred,” Dawn said with a surge of authority in her tone.
Dawn’s abrupt tone startled Sarey. She swallowed hard and said, “I swear.”
“I am Lady Dawn, the rightful heir to the throne of Hoffnung.”
Sarey frowned, set the salve on the edge of a tub, and crossed her arms. She studied Dawn’s eyes for several moments. Dawn never flinched. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Dawn replied.
“Why are you a squire for Caen?”
“It is highly doubtful that Waxxon’s soldiers or the Vyking invaders would ever suspect the princess to hide as a peasant lad, much less become a squire.”
“That’s true.”
Dawn explained the events that had taken place inside the castle the night Waxxon’s men stormed into her bedchambers and killed her mother. Then she told about how Nessa had come up with the idea of disguising her as a young man.
“But becoming a squire was never in my plans. I had only wanted to get outside of the city gates so I can start building an army to take back my throne, but the stable master found me and mistook me for one of the peasant slaves.”
“So where do you plan to travel with Caen?”
“Wherever he believes we’ll find more of the Dragon Skull Knights.”
“What proof do you have that proves you are truly Lady Dawn?” Sarey asked.
“Nothing more than my word, but if you look inside the pouch on my leather belt you’ll find what I discovered in my father’s hidden study underneath Hoffnung’s castle.”
Sarey opened the pouch. She took out the gem and the silver Dragon Knight pendant. “This is like Caen’s . . .”
“Yes. I found it in my father’s study. It might have been his or perhaps he had another person in mind to wear it.”
“Like you, perhaps?” Sarey asked.
Dawn shrugged. “Since we never found my father’s body after the war, I don’t have any idea if he wore his pendant into the battle with the Dredgemen or not. The gemstone came from one of my great ancestor’s sepulcher.”
Sarey held the gem up to the burning sconce. “It’s beautiful. But neither of these items prove . . .”
A rush of cold air walled around them, driving away the steam. Chill bumps covered Dawn’s body and Sarey’s lips trembled.
Dawn placed her other foot into the tub and slid down into the water. The heat seeped through her aches and pains. Swirls of crimson spread into the tub as the hot water melted away the dried blood. The water stung the gash between her shoulder blades, but at least she escaped from the sudden chill.
“Why would any female disguise herself like a male, if not for hiding?” Dawn asked.
Within the steam a ghostly figure formed where the wall of cold had formed. Sarey’s eyes widened. The ghost held a regal appearance. His face was dignified with a firm jaw, and his mouth opened. “She is the rightful heir to the Hoffnung throne. Serve her.”
“Who are you?” Sarey paled. She swallowed hard.
The ghost loomed momentarily, and then in a low even tone, he replied, “King Az-mar, father of King Eric, and the grandfather of Lady Dawn, Hoffnung’s rightful Queen.”
The spirit faded into the rolling steamy mist to be seen no more.
Sarey dropped to one knee and bowed to Dawn. “Your highness, I beg your forgiveness for the cruelty and my rudeness that I displayed earlier.”
“You didn’t know who I am.”
“No, My Lady, I didn’t. But do know that I will do whatever you bid me to do so that you may occupy Hoffnung’s throne.”
Dawn nodded. “As I mentioned earlier, your hamlet serves as the first offense against the Vyking raiders. You seem quite a leader in your own right.”
Sarey rose and displayed a humble bow. “I appreciate your compliment, but I can ride with you and Caen to protect you.”
Dawn smiled. “You’re much more valuable to me here.”
“If that is your wish, I can gather others into training for whenever you’re ready to commence battle against Lord Waxxon.”
“We will need far greater numbers, but with your skills I know that you are capable of teaching others here.”
“From morn to dusk, My Lady, and deep into the night.”
“Dismiss those formalities for the present,” Dawn said. “No one must know who I am.”
“Why not tell Caen?” she asked.
“More for his protection rather than my own.”
Sarey frowned. “I don’t see how your secret protects him.”
“As long as he views me as a squire, his attention is in finding the rest of the Order, which is most needful to gather armies together. Otherwise, his focus will be on me and trying to hide and protect me.”
“Isn’t that safest?”
“Did you suspect me to be a woman before you found me nude?”
Sarey shook her head. “No. Not at all. I’m still shocked.”
“I’m well hidden now.”
“I agree. Most men have never expected that I can outshoot them with a bow until after they make their foolish wagers,” Sarey said with a sly grin. “I always thought I was the only woman ever trained to use a bow. Until you.”
“You’re better than most of the archers at the castle,” Dawn said.
“I’m better than any of the men in our hamlet. If I may ask, how did you learn to use a bow?”
“My father took me hunting with him several times when I was young. I often trained with the targets early before the sunrise while the training grounds were empty.”
“You’re quite good,” Sarey said.
“Thanks, but I’m nowhere as good as you are.”
“You’re kind,” Sarey said with a red face. “You know what I thought was a bit odd about you in the beginning?”
Dawn shrugged. “No. What?”
“Your language is loftier than a peasant’s ever would be. Or perhaps I should say that you sound far more educated.”
Dawn smiled. “I know. I don’t know how to speak any differently since I’ve always been disciplined to speak with etiquette and with a bit of authority to some of our servants. I know Caen’s been silently questioning it. Actually, he’s questioned me a couple of times.”
“Oh, my,” Sarey said, grabbing a towel and rushing toward the tub.
“What is it?”
“Your back, my Lady. That whip’s lash was deep and it’s oozing blood. Possibly infected.”
“The salve will have to do.”
“Lean forward,” Sarey said.
When Dawn did so, Sarey pressed the towel against the laceration. Dawn winced.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, I am sorry that it hurt. But I’m also sorry that I browbeat you into fighting Thomas. I believe I’ve hurt you worse.”
Dawn sighed as Sarey pressed harder for a moment, and then she inspected the wound.
“Even I need to know my strengths and my weaknesses,” Dawn said. “I’m Queen only in title until I occupy the throne. I plan to make Waxxon’s reign short and unpleasant.”
“I’m all for that. Sadly, it seems you’ve been tested more on the brutalities that the lesser class of people love to bestow.”
“I’ve learned far more in the last couple of days than from any book I’ve ever read. When I gain back the throne, I will set justices into place.”
Sarey looked into Dawn’s eyes. “I will fight every step to th
e castle to place you there.”
“First,” Dawn said. “Let’s get my injury bandaged and some fresh clothes on me before Caen or some other unsuspecting lad happens in here. We can’t tarry too much longer because he will expect me to eat with him.”
“I’ll hurry.”
Sarey gently pulled the rough towel off the inflamed gash. The bleeding had stopped, but even after it scabbed and healed, Dawn would be left with a nasty scar. Sarey set the towel on the edge of the tub, grabbed the bottle of salve, and spread on a thick coating into the deep tender groove. While putting the salve on the cut, she noticed the bloody long strip of cloth on the floor.
“He managed this type of damage even though you wore that thick restraint?”
Dawn nodded. “Yes.”
“The man must be filled with pure spite. That’s a powerful welt. And you say that you got your vengeance?”
“Yes. He won’t want to see me anytime soon,” Dawn said with coldness in her gaze and voice.
“Good.”
The salve was cool when first touching the wound, but soon after, the healing qualities of the medicine burned like fire. Dawn gritted her teeth but didn’t complain. She was beginning to believe that for anything good to happen, one endured great suffering first. At least that seemed to be what fate and the Three Goddesses were teaching her ever since her mother had died.
“I’ll be right back,” Sarey said. She hurried across the bathhouse to the shelf where she had gotten the rough piece of cloth. She returned with more cloths and tore them in half.
“What are you doing?”
“Hoping that I can make a similar restraint like your maid used to make you look like a young man.”
Dawn rose from the tub. Water rushed off her body in sheets. She took the rough towel Sarey had given her and dried her legs as she stepped to the sweaty wooden floor.
“Remember,” Dawn said, “Treat me no differently in Caen’s presence than you did before. He must never suspect that I’m a woman and Lady Dawn.”
“I understand.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Within seconds of the lead wagon torches going dark, strange guttural snarls and squeals echoed inside the black tunnel. An instant later ten small torches burst brightly like large struck matches. Dozens of glowing beady eyes reflected within the fiery glow. The swarm of feral Ratkin rushed toward the wagon.
The wagon had stopped in the narrowest part of the mountain passageway, but beyond where the lit torches glowed, the area around the Ratkin appeared to be a larger open cavern. The Ratkin used this vantage point to trap travelers where there was a lesser chance for them to turn around or effectively thwart off a swarming raid.
Six Ratkin leapt and snarled at the front Dwarven guards. They moved swiftly, but the dwarves battered them back with their shields. The rat-like beasts didn’t seem deterred by the axes and swords at first. Their feral crazed nature kept them leaping against the shields, trying to knock the warriors back, but their light weight prevented them from doing so readily. The dwarves’ biggest concern was to not get bitten or scratched as some of the Ratkin transmitted plague and disease quickly. Some carried such horrid infections that even brushing against a ruptured pustule could contaminate the unfortunate victim.
Drucis swung his ax, which severed the closest Ratkin’s head from its body. The rolling head bounced and tumbled. The Ratkins snarled and rushed toward the armored dwarf warriors. Teeth and serrated blades sliced at the dwarves, but the dwarves’ thick shields prevented the Ratkins from getting within striking distance.
One of the Ratkin looped its tail beneath a shield and curled around a dwarf’s metal boot. With a mighty tug, the Ratkin pulled and sent the dwarf tumbling backwards. Weighted with heavy armor, the dwarf struggled to get back up. His comrades quickly stood around him and battled back the other Ratkin until the dwarf managed to stand up again.
Bausch drew his sword and swung off his horse. Lehrling’s horse spun around and galloped the opposite direction, away from the battle. Lehrling jerked back the reins to gain control. He turned the horse and noticed three Ratkin sprint and leap toward Bausch. Not only did these beasts have their blades drawn, their mouths were opened wide, revealing their gleaming yellow teeth in the torchlight. They snarled and growled in fury. They were within striking distance of Bausch in mere seconds.
Bausch never flinched nor did he show any sign that he’d retreat. He moved with such smooth elegance, swiftly bringing down his blade and severing one Ratkin’s skull in half. Before the Ratkin dropped in death, Bausch spun a one-eighty turn and sliced through the second Ratkin’s unprotected gut. It squealed a high-pitched howl, clutched its split-opened stomach, and fell on the road. It shuttered in pain as death settled upon it. A pool of foul-smelling blood leaked beneath it.
The third Ratkin shook its head in surprise. Calculating its odds, it twitched its whiskers while examining the fallen bodies of his two brethren. Instead of chancing its life, it retreated and clambered back to the line of torchbearers. Bausch chose not to pursue.
The torch-carrying Ratkins stood around the outer perimeter of the mountain passageway. The fiery glow of the torches brightened the tunnel, making it seem almost like sunlight brightened the narrow path. The dancing shadows, however, made it difficult to judge an enemy’s movement and their exact position. And sometimes, the long shadows of the Ratkin made it seem like they had doubled in number.
Bausch was thankful that they were no longer shrouded in darkness, but he understood that each torchbearer had to be killed, too. By doing so, they might lose the light if the dropped torches hit small puddles of mud or water.
More Ratkin scampered on all fours through the line of torchbearers with daggers clenched in their teeth. Their beady eyes glowed a faint green color. Several had metal fitted helms that protected the small space between their pointed ears down to the tip of their pointed noses. Leather bracers covered their wrists all the way to their elbows.
The Dwarven warriors used their shields to batter back several Ratkin. Some of the strikes proved deadly as the heavy metal shields crushed through the Ratkin’s protective helms and smashed their skulls. The mail and plate armor aided the dwarves from any attempted bite, but the dwarves’ uncovered faces left them vulnerable to the disease-laden Ratkin claws or blades should any of the beasts successfully get past the shields and swords.
The skilled warriors were experts with their swords and axes, and Lehrling was confident that this skirmish would end without any casualties on their side, until he noticed the bluish glow shimmering behind the torchbearers.
A Ratkin mage.
The mage was not brown or black furred like its brethren. The magical white beast wore a crimson cloak and sash. Curled ram horns were fastened to its leather helm to make the mage appear even more menacing. Blue fire blazed from its fingertips. Its gray vest concealed its white furry chest, and other than the pure white fur on its face, no one would have immediately noticed the rarity of the white Ratkin. Only the white furred Ratkins were capable of using magic and often their skills were equal to any sorcerer of other races. The power of this mage seemed great enough to make their party concerned.
Noticing the bluish flame, Lehrling shouted, “Mage!”
Nordun glanced quickly around and asked, “Where?”
Lehrling pointed.
The flaming blue ball of light shot through the air and struck the shield of a dwarf warrior near the front of the wagon. A thick sheet of blue ice clung to the shield face. The quick freezing touch made the shield crackle. The dwarf, Briar, quickly released the shield. It shattered into frozen chunks of metal. Briar flexed his hand open and shut with a stunned expression on his face. The immense cold was painful.
Before he could revert his attention back to their enemy, a Ratkin rushed from Briar’s blindside and bit into his unprotected right wrist. Briar dropped his sword, shouted and cringed in pain, and frantically tried to retreat. In an instant, the Ratkin slashed for t
he dwarf’s face with its dagger but missed. The dwarf struggled to pull the vile creature off his arm, but the Ratkin’s curved teeth were hooked into his flesh.
Drucis came from behind the Ratkin and with an overhead swing of his ax, he plunged the blade into the beast’s spine. Its eyes widened with sudden terrorized pain. A slight gurgle of blood mixed with air rumbled in its throat and out its nose. Drucis helped Briar pull the creature’s sharp teeth out of his arm. Seconds later, it dropped dead on the pathway.
“Thanks,” the dwarf said.
Drucis smiled. “It’s not over, Briar.”
A flash of blue light washed overhead as the next bolt of magic shot from the mage’s hands. The blue tint danced and reflected off the dwarves’ metal armor and shields. Lehrling swung off his horse and dove to the ground. The magical bolt narrowly missed him.
The blue light struck a stalactite. It sparkled like an icicle for several moments before breaking free from the ceiling and shattering on the roadway. Another bright bluish ball glowed on the mage’s hands. Before the glowing magical ball intensified, the wagon driver fired his rifle. The magical ball flickered and faded. The mage clutched its chest and fell lifeless to the floor.
The echoing gunshot sent the Ratkin fleeing back into the shadows where the path widened. Several torchbearers dropped their torches, joining their frightened comrades. The dwarf fired again. The steel ball lodged into a fleeing Ratkin’s back, tearing a massive hole through its back and out its chest.
Another thunderous blast sent the remaining Ratkin running over one another and scrambling for their small carved out tunnels while the armored dwarfs pursued the vermin. The rattling gunfire echoed and caused bits of stalactites to strike the path around the wagon. Dwarves held their shields overhead to block the shards.
After the Ratkin disappeared, the dwarves regrouped. Bausch quickly grabbed two torches before they lost their fire and held them above his head while he studied the large cavern area where the path cut through.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 20
