A narrow, crude trail meandered through the forest. The shadows grew darker as the sun faded from the sky. Birds and creatures of the night shrilled and kicked up leaves on the forest floor. Some of the vine-covered trees deceptively looked like hungry beasts waiting for unsuspecting prey to happen by.
Nervously, Dawn set her short sword across her lap. She didn’t like the looks of this unfamiliar forest after dark. She felt like she was being watched, and what troubled her most was that she couldn’t see whatever it was.
Caen stopped Baymont and waited for Dawn to ride up beside him.
“You okay, Donne?” he asked.
Dawn nodded. She didn’t reply in words because she knew she couldn’t hide the evident fear that came in her voice. But even in the darkness, the whites of her eyes clued Caen of her trepidation.
He said, “This trail is seldom traveled, especially this time of the year. The summer months would be different but since harvest is nearly over, folks are less apt to be out here. The worst we have to look out for are bears or panthers.”
Branches cracked farther back in the woods from where they had come. Caen squinted, trying to see through the darkness.
“Or whoever has decided to follow us,” he whispered. “Can you ride fast?”
Dawn nodded.
“Good. Stay close behind me. The trail is narrow, but I know it fairly well.”
He gave a quick nod and kicked the horse’s flanks. Baymont bolted straight ahead. Dawn didn’t hesitate and stayed directly behind him, tightening her hand around the hilt. The trees passed like a blur. Her horse’s ears were backed, and out of instinct, it followed Baymont without veering off the path.
The sound of galloping hooves didn’t diminish the sound of her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. She dreaded what might be hiding inside the forest, but she feared whoever had decided to pursue them even more.
The trail turned sharply to the right. Roaring, rushing water splashed below the cliff. She knew they were on the high bank above the river. Thick firs lined the edge of the bank, which helped deter the horses from having galloped off the ledge into the river.
Caen pulled back Baymont’s reins, slowing the stead. Dawn’s horse nearly rammed into his, but it quickly averted a collision and halted beside him.
“What’s wrong?” Dawn asked. “Why are we stopping?”
“The lake is up ahead. We can’t run any further.”
“Meaning?”
Caen smiled, drawing his blade. “Meaning it’s time to find out who is chasing us.”
“You think that they still are?”
“Listen.”
Hooves pounded along the trail, approaching swiftly from the route they had just taken. The hooves thundered louder than regular horses. These were much larger, and she didn’t need to guess that they were Vyking warhorses. The only thing left for her to wonder was how many Vykings?
Caen sheathed his sword and pointed toward the thicket. “Dismount and walk our horses toward that boulder. Tie them to one of the saplings and ready your weapon. Only show yourself if it becomes necessary. Understood?”
Dawn nodded and did as he directed.
While Dawn stood in the darker shadows with her short sword drawn, Caen slipped to the side of the path and climbed partway up a tree. The approaching hoof beats rumbled closer.
Dawn’s hand tightened upon the hilt of her sword.
The two riders slowed.
Vykings.
A lump rose in Dawn’s throat.
Caen leapt from the tree and wrapped his arm around the closest Vyking’s neck, knocking him off the warhorse before he noticed his attacker’s descent.
The Vyking roared, partly out of anger and partly from his sudden alarm. Before the Vyking could grab a weapon or attempt to stand, Caen took a fist size rock off the ground and hammered hard against the Vyking’s helm, rendering him unconscious.
Caen stood, drew his sword, and waited for the other Vyking to turn his warhorse and counterattack. By the time the Vyking did, the massive man had drawn his great sword and slid off the warhorse to face Caen.
“You’re not one of us,” the Vyking said with a growl in his voice. His huge hands wrapped around the blade’s hilt.
“I am not.”
“Then prepare to die.”
“Not today.”
The Vyking lunged toward Caen, but Caen dodged and scrambled into a thicket of small trees. The saplings were thick enough in diameter and close enough together that the Vyking couldn’t possibly make any wide arcing swings to attack. Caen turned, swung, and struck the Vyking’s right hand as he tried to parry the blow.
The Vyking howled in pain. His sword and several fingers dropped to the forest floor. Angered the Vyking pulled a long curved dagger with his left hand and approached. “You’ll pay for that, dog!”
Caen shook his head and sighed. He wondered why Vykings liked to hurl ‘dog’ as an insult. He could think of worse things to be called because most dogs he had seen were generally loyal.
Dawn cleared her throat, which seemed to surprise the Vyking that someone else was there. He turned and Caen rushed him. With a downward swing, he removed his opponent’s left hand. The Vyking clutched his maimed limbs to his chest and Caen slammed the hilt of his blade against the Vyking’s forehead. The second Vyking dropped unconscious.
Caen looked down at the two Vykings. Dawn hurried to stand beside him.
“You think there will be more?” she asked.
Caen stood silently for a few moments, listening. Other than birds flitting from tree to tree and wind rustling dead leaves on the forest floor, no heavier sounds came. “No. They were alone. Otherwise, any others would have arrived by now.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“If you will help me, we’ll drag them to the ledge and hurl them into the river.”
“Are they dead?”
“No, but they will be.”
“Drown them?”
Caen shrugged. “It’s cleaner than cutting off their heads.”
Dawn agreed. Why get yourself bloody when you didn’t need to?
Chapter Sixty-three
After rolling the Vykings off the ledge into the river, Caen and Dawn rode for another quarter mile. They stopped at a clearing upon the bank of Glasslyn Lake. The moon was full, slowly rising above the horizon. Its reflection on the lake’s surface was spectacular.
Dawn was glad the moon lit the sky. It lessened her apprehension. A light fog hovered over the lake like a thin layer of smoke. In a way the lake was the most tranquil place she had seen in quite some time.
“I will gather firewood,” Caen said. “Go ahead and bathe in the water, if you’d like.”
Dawn looked uneasy.
Caen chuckled softly. “Donne, I know you like your privacy, so—”
“Let me help you with finding firewood. That’s really my job, isn’t it?” She frantically started grabbing small dead limbs off the ground. She kept her gaze lowered and avoided looking at him.
Caen grinned and released a slight sigh. “Okay. Find the driest wood that you can. Small limbs will be helpful to start the fire, but we need some hard deadwood so we’ll have a fire throughout the night. If you find clumps of dry grass, we’ll need that, too.”
“Sure.”
Caen walked into a pine thicket while Dawn broke branches off a dead oak. After she had gathered up an armful of dead limbs, she returned to the edge of the lake and set them down.
She stared at the water and thought about what Caen had said about bathing. The idea of washing a few days of sweat and grime off her body sounded inviting, but she knew that she couldn’t risk it.
Caen returned with two long pieces of dried heartwood. “These should keep us warm through the night.”
Dawn helped him break the heartwood into reasonable sized logs with a dull hatchet. They found smooth rocks and formed a circle of stones. They set the heartwood, kindling branches, and some dried grass in the center.
Caen took flint from his saddlebag and after several strikes against his dagger; the sparks ignited the dried grass. They fed the small flames until the larger dead branches caught fire.
Once the fire rose and crackled, Dawn seated herself nearby with her hands held toward the flames. The heat felt good. She liked watching the little embers rise into the air, swirl, and then fade into little black flecks as the wind gently carried them toward the lake. From the other side of the lake, in the darkness of the trees, several blue shining wisps floated along the water’s edge and into the forest.
“If you’ll help me get this chestpiece off, I want to wash off,” Caen said.
Nervously, she rose to her feet and stepped behind him to help him undress. After she helped undo the armor, she said, “I’ll get the bed roll from Baymont, so you’ll have a place to lay afterwards.”
“You’re not going in the water?”
Dawn swallowed hard. “Maybe later. The fire is nice and hot. I’m afraid the water will be too cold.”
“It toughens you up, squire.”
“Just the same. I’ll wait until later.”
“Very well.”
Caen turned, dropped his undergarments, and walked toward the lake. Although she had her back turned while he fully undressed, she peeked over her shoulder to watch him step into the water. Her face heated, and she quickly averted her glances, afraid that he might see her looking.
When he was about knee deep, he dove into the water, making a loud splash. Upon surfacing, he released a high shrill. “You’re right, squire. The water’s quite cold. Good thing we got the fire going first.”
“Good thing,” she whispered, still blushing.
Several minutes later, he was out of the water and running toward the campfire. The knight held no modesty as he clambered to wrap himself in his linens and huddle near the fire.
“Today I’ve learned something,” he said.
With a shy grin, she replied, “What?”
“My squire is wiser about some things than his mentor.”
Dawn laughed softly and took a long stick to poke the fire.
Shivering, Caen said, “Of course I should have known the water would be cold. The river begins at the edge of Glacier Ridge and perhaps is the coldest river in Aetheaon. I assumed the lake would be much warmer since it is miles away from the river’s origin.”
Her gaze remained directed at the flames. Twice she had already glanced toward him and because he wasn’t fully covered with the linens, she had seen more about his anatomy than she had expected to see.
After he stood and dried off, he pulled the linens on and lay near the fire. They lay on separate bedrolls and stared at the night sky. The bright moon and an array of stars lit up the night sky.
Dawn was drifting off to sleep when Caen’s loud snoring snapped her awake. She shook her head and rolled over to face him. His face was peaceful. She watched him a few minutes more before she pushed herself into a seated position and then rose to her feet.
With him asleep, she walked barefoot to the edge of the lake. She stuck her right foot partway into the water. The cold made her hold her breath for a moment. She considered turning back and lying beside the fire. She sniffed her underarm and smelled the soured sweat. Cold or not, she wanted to rid herself of the stench.
Dawn glanced back over her shoulder. Caen slept soundly. Quietly, she slipped out of her garments. Then she reached behind her back and loosened the long strap that bound her breasts. She unraveled the cloth restraint and carefully wrapped it into a neatly wound spool of cloth. She set her clothes on the grass and stepped into the water until it was at her knees.
The frigid water hurt.
She took deep breaths through her mouth to keep from shouting like Caen had due to the cold. Chill bumps covered her. The tips of her breasts hardened. She took another step and found nothing to rest her foot upon. The sudden drop off made her lose her balance and she tumbled forward, making a loud splash.
The cold was like a million piercing needles pricking through her skin. Her chest tightened, and she plunged upward, gasping for air. Without thinking, her arms thrashed at the water as she sought to find footing. She couldn’t swim, and her panic was sending her under the water.
Frantic, she kicked and beat at the water, which was now her enemy.
Her abuse of the water and sudden shrieks made enough noise to awaken Caen. He bolted upright and rushed to the lake. “Donne! Are you okay?”
With her head barely above the water, Dawn shook it. “I . . . can’t . . . swim.”
“Hold on!”
Dawn gulped down a mouthful of the cold water. It hit her stomach like sharp ice. She bobbed momentarily, then sank, her nose filling with water. She thrashed her arms and kicked her feet, which brought her head above the surface again.
Without a second of hesitation, Caen dove in and swam out to her. He rose up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She continued fighting the water and him. Her growing panic consumed her.
“Just be calm, squire. Calm down and relax. I have you.”
The water in her nose prevented her from breathing. She kept struggling, thinking that she was still alone, drowning. Suddenly, Caen’s chin rested on her shoulder. His calm voice whispered into her ear, warm and soothing. His strong arms were wrapped around her. She felt safe.
Dawn stopped her battle and fell back against him.
Caen supported her weight and swam on his back. Kicking gently, he got her to the shore. Sheets of water spilled off of them as they stood. He flung water off his hands, shaking them.
“I never knew that you couldn’t swim. You shouldn’t have tried to—” Caen went silent, his mouth gaping. His eyes widened as water dripped off her body. He noticed her breasts right before she quickly turned away.
Dawn stood on the bank with one arm draped across her breasts and her other hand covering her pubic region. Her eyes were wide. She started shivering from the cold.
Caen’s surprise was all too evident. He looked to where she covered her body, still in incredible wonder.
“All this time you’ve been with me. And . . . you’re a . . . woman?” His brow creased with uncertainty. He was baffled beyond further words.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Caen shook his head and then he frowned. Instead of trying to catch a glimpse of her gender again, he bore into her eyes with an intense stare. “What is the meaning of your deception? Are you a spy?”
Dawn remained silent for several moments while his facial features passed through many questioning emotions. She had wanted to tell him for so long, but now, she realized that she had never considered his true reaction. He was defensive and quizzical, not eager to accept that she was a woman. She had no doubt that he probably wondered about the purpose of her deception. Of course, she reasoned, anyone would. Sarey had, so why should she expect any less of Caen?
“No,” she finally replied, shaking her head. “I’m not a spy.”
“Then why did you pretend to be a boy?”
“Because, knight, I am Lady Dawn, the Queen of Hoffnung.” Her voice rose in authority as she spoke them. A lot of triumph and pride gleamed in her eyes. A smile crossed her lips that dared him to defy her claim.
***
Caen stood stunned. He was obviously shivering from the cold, but it hadn’t registered with him. He still seemed to be trying to figure out the situation as if he had been awakened from a confusing dream and was trying to determine its meaning.
Dawn grabbed her clothes off the grass and swiftly headed back to the fire, trying to cover herself as she moved.
“You’re Lady Dawn?” he said in a near whisper, letting the words sink in.
“I am,” she replied with her back to him. The flickering flames revealed the nasty scar at the center of her back.
Still shaking from the cold, he was hesitant in approaching the fire where she stood, dressing. “Why are you disguised like a boy? Why would you agree to be my squire?” His surp
rise turned to partial anger as though he had been wrongfully betrayed.
Dawn pulled up the peasant pants quickly. Then she held the long cloth across her breasts and turned to face him. “After my mother fell to her death, Nessa, my chambermaid, cut my hair and made me dress in peasant clothes so Waxxon wouldn’t find me.”
“As much as I’d like to believe you . . .”
Dawn began listing the names of all of the Dragon Skull Knights. His eyes widened. Since Caen had never mentioned all of their names, she knew he’d understand that a simple peasant shouldn’t possess the knowledge of the members.
From her belt she took out the silver pendant from her father’s study and the gemstone from her ancestor’s sepulcher. The gem glowed in her palm.
Two ghostly figures appeared behind her, one to each side of her.
Caen recognized the ghosts to be former kings. Their painted portraits were on the wall inside Hoffnung’s castle. He dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty.”
“Please rise, Sir Caen. No one else must know who I am until the rightful time.”
“And when shall that be?”
“Once we have an army to storm Hoffnung and take back the throne.”
Caen frowned and slowly rose to his feet. “Wait. You said, ‘no one else.’ Does that mean Sarey knows?”
Still fidgeting with the cloth, Dawn nodded.
“Why did you tell her and not me?”
“Because she’s a woman. I couldn’t exactly allow you to tend my wound without you discovering I’m a woman, now could I?”
“No.” His eyes widened as he realized the true meaning behind why Sarey spent so much alone time with Dawn in the bathhouse. “Now, I understand why—”
Dawn held up the cloth. “Do you mind helping me with this?”
Caen stepped hesitantly toward her. His eyes stared at her modest breasts for a moment, then to her eyes. Even in the faint light of the fire, his blush was evident.
Dawn smiled. Great relief rushed through her. She was glad her charade between her and Caen was gone, but she regretted the evident distrust he held. She only hoped that lessened.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 47
