Rhoyan made a clicking noise at her and she laughed. “I suppose not,” she sighed. “Oh! It is wonderful, the city. I shall be glad to see it again.” Her tone belied her words and she fell into a melancholy silence.
Rhoyan furrowed his brow in concern and puzzlement. She looked up at him and he was surprised to see that her eyes were filled with tears. He reached out hesitantly and touched her face, shocked at his own audacity.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s wrong with me,” she gave a half-hearted laugh. “I will miss you, Roy. Your quiet friendship has been the one good thing about this whole trip. Your speech is so funny, and yet, sometimes I think I can almost understand you, and sometimes I could swear you understand me better than anyone who speaks my language….” She trailed off for a moment and then spoke again briskly, “In a few days we will enter the city and nothing will be the same ever again. I have dreaded that day for so long now…”
Rhoyan glanced at Dru. The thief looked back at him, concern clouding his dark eyes. Then Rhoyan looked back at Calla, confusion written all over his face.
Calla gave a mirthless laugh and said, “When we reach the city I will be sold.”
Rhoyan almost jumped at this statement and he stared at Dru in confusion. Calla was a prisoner as well? Dru shook his head and shrugged almost imperceptibly.
Calla continued talking, oblivious to their silent communication, “Oh, I know what you would think, and I assure you I am not a prisoner to be sold, not exactly... not like you. But my family has determined that I should marry and they have already picked the man who is to be my husband. His name is Count Willem, and he is very rich. It is my duty to my family that I should marry well and thus bring them prestige and wealth, for the man must pay my family for me, and they will make sure he pays well. There are no better bargainers or thieves than the Ramblers, but I do not want to marry him,” she confided in a fierce whisper, “my family insists that I will learn to love him, but they do not know my heart is already taken! Oh to escape!” Tears poured from her bright blue eyes as she wept quietly.
Rhoyan stared at her, his mind racing. He had no idea of what he should do. He was on his guard and he knew this could very well be a trap, but Calla’s distress seemed real to him, and he desperately wanted to help her. He looked at Dru and saw the thief shake his head slightly. Rhoyan grimaced, it would be difficult enough just trying to get the two of them out of the camp, taking Calla with them would only complicate things. Besides, the girl was in no great danger. She was merely being married against her will; it was not as though her life were being threatened. Rhoyan’s shoulders slumped and he spoke to the girl in Gryphonese one last time, making comforting clicking noises at her until he had her laughing at him. She wiped her tears away, setting her chin bravely.
“I suppose you have no idea what in the world I’ve been saying. I wish I could make you understand somehow.”
Rhoyan looked at her quizzically and then smiled quietly at her. She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head.
“I believe you do understand,” she said quietly. “Oh, not my words perhaps, but you do understand, somehow. You puzzle me, Roy.” She looked at them both and swallowed hard. “I will miss you, both of you, so very much.” Impulsively she threw her arms around Rhoyan’s neck and kissed his cheek. She stood back and stared at him for a moment as though memorizing his face; then her cheeks reddened and she darted away, disappearing behind the great wagons.
Rhoyan stared after her in complete shock. Dru laughed heartily and slapped his knee at the comical expression on his young friend’s face. Rhoyan turned to Dru, his thoughts spinning crazily; he had the oddest impression that he might be standing on his head.
“What?”
“You should see your face; I’ve never seen anyone more shocked in my entire life!” The man slapped his knee again and laughed loudly. “We should take her with us,” Dru exclaimed suddenly.
“I thought you said ‘no’!”
“I didn’t mean ‘no we can’t take her with us,’ I meant ‘no don’t say anything to her yet,’ Rhoyan; there are Ramblers all around us and you’re the one who insists on absolute secrecy. You were about to open your mouth and then it would have been all over.”
Rhoyan hung his head, Dru was right, he had been willing to speak to the girl and let her in on the plan right then despite the danger. Had he spoken to the girl in her own language, it would never have gone unnoticed. He could not figure out what had come over him. He had been willing to risk all their secrecy and planning in an instant.
Dru clapped the young warrior on the back. “Take heart, you didn’t do anything foolish! Love has made many a man do things equally rash. Tonight we will make our escape and we’ll make sure we ask Calla to come along. Perhaps we can even get out of here without having to speak in the Rambler tongue at all… if we’re lucky.”
“Love?” Rhoyan protested. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act like it isn’t true.”
Rhoyan glared at him but did not get a chance to respond as his captors hauled them to their feet and ordered them back into line. They marched until after the Dragon’s Eye had set. At dinner Rhoyan downed his stew ravenously. Later he stretched out on the ground, willing the darkness of the night to fall around them, waiting for his captors to sleep. His thoughts turned towards home and his family. He wondered if they had given up on him, and if Ky was commanding his own battalion yet. He wondered what rank Ky was and if he had achieved Aetoli and whether or not he was learning how to run the kingdom.
Rhoyan speculated about what his role would be once he returned to Llycaelon. He desperately wanted to go home and see his family, but he was no longer at all sure he wanted to stay there once he returned. His horizons had broadened and he had seen so many different cultures and people in his travels. He loved his home and his family, but the thought of staying in the palace or being a warrior guarding the borders sometimes felt as repulsive as the chain attached to his leg. At long last Rhoyan allowed himself to slowly drift into a light sleep, content to leave his troubled thoughts for another time.
❖ ❖ ❖
The King’s Helm had tracked the brigands across Llycaelon to their stronghold. Seamas ordered some of his warriors to follow, remain unseen, and keep him notified of any further movement. The rest of his battalion established camp on a bluff just below the hilltop upon which he now stood. The brigands were at the bottom of the valley on the far side of the hill. They believed they were safe, and Seamas planned to let them think that until the last possible moment. Now, Seamas was scanning the valley below with his spyglass, trying to find some weakness in the robbers’ campsite. He growled in frustration, the valley had natural defenses on all sides. They could not approach easily from any direction.
“How are we going to do this?” Llewana asked, coming to stand next to him.
“It will be difficult, I want to take as many of the thieves as possible back for the trial, which means storming their camp without killing anyone. However, there doesn’t seem to be any easy way to approach their camp.”
“May I see the spyglass, commander?”
“If you can think of a solution, I’d be glad to hear it,” he admitted.
Llewana used the spyglass to scan the area, then handed it back.
“Anything?”
“There is a ravine, just on the other side of the camp,” she pointed and Seamas trained the spyglass on the spot.
“I see it,” he said; then he stopped and thought for a moment. “Perhaps if I split my forces and sent half the men around that way…”
He trailed off and Llewana looked at him patiently, waiting for him to continue his thought. Seamas squinted down at the valley. He seemed to be lost in thought, as though solving a puzzle in his head.
“Run and tell my captains they are needed,” he ordered.
She looked at him, completely mystified, but she responded promptly, “Yes, sir
.”
A few minutes later, Seamas was back in his tent, outlining his strategy. His captains were impressed with the simple, yet precise plan he presented.
“It will take excellent timing if we’re to pull it off,” one of the captains said gruffly, “but I do believe we can manage it.”
Seamas gazed appreciatively at the older man, glad of both his honesty and his support. He looked around for other questions or comments.
“When do we attack, Milord Commander?” one of the younger, more eager captains asked.
“Tonight,” Seamas said grimly, “just after the Dragon’s Eye sinks below the horizon. Ready your men.”
The King’s Helm spent the rest of the day moving into position. Seamas told Llewana his plan and asked her to take the archers and assemble them wherever they could best aid the effort. Well-pleased with the honor and the trust Seamas was placing in her, Llewana nodded sharply and made as though to get started, but Seamas stopped her.
“Make sure they only shoot to add to the confusion, not to kill,” he warned. “Perhaps this siege can be accomplished without any killing at all… at least I hope so.”
“I understand, sir.”
By nightfall, the men of the King’s Helm were in position. As the last traces of the Dragon’s Eye disappeared behind the far hills, Seamas gave the signal. A bow twanged and an arrow struck the camp-fire, sending sparks shooting up into the sky. The camp erupted into mass confusion. The brigands leapt to their feet with startled cries, another arrow knocked a pot from someone’s hands. The sound of it smashing against the ground served the Helm well, as the entire camp was now running around and trying to figure out where the arrows were coming from. More barbs rained down around the camp, adding to the confusion; some of the arrows had been lit with fire and soon the night was ablaze.
A quick-thinking brigand took up his own short bow and began shooting recklessly into the night. One of his arrows found a mark by chance and Llewana saw one of her archers grimace as the dart buried itself in his shoulder. She returned fire, hitting the thief in the arm and rendering his bow useless. At that signal the rest of the King’s Helm swarmed down on the camp. There were not very many of them, but there were enough to surround the camp. The brigands, thinking an army had descended upon them, threw their hands in the air and gave up.
Seamas was pleased at how easy the siege had been. His method of confusion had worked better than even he had hoped. Inwardly he let out a triumphant cheer, outwardly he calmly instructed his men to bind the brigands in their own wagons and have them ready for transport in the hour.
The men of the King’s Helm broke camp and mounted their horses in good humor. Hours earlier they had been preparing for battle, with its ever-present danger, and now they were quietly celebrating their victory without the loss of a single warrior, and more importantly, without the loss of a single friend. Llewana rode up beside Seamas, her cheeks flushed with the exhilaration of completing her mission successfully.
Seamas saluted. “Welcome to the King’s Helm, Llewana-Emmerich’s daughter. You did well tonight.”
She looked shyly up at him. “Thank you, Milord Commander.”
Seamas watched as Llewana fell back into place with the others, the sparkle in her eyes engraved in his memory. The starlight gleamed off her dark hair. He thought of the way she held her bow when she was shooting, remembered the way she had looked in the midst of the battle: her eyes aflame and her cheeks flushed. She really was beautiful. Then his face darkened. He was tired of chasing petty thieves. Seamas saw glory and fame for the King’s Helm, but not if they continued down this path. What they really needed, Seamas decided, was a real war. Chasing down brigands and bringing them to justice was good exercise, but it was not a true challenge. Seamas sighed, wishing he could find an opponent worthy of his full attention.
CHAPTER
TEN
Rhoyan woke when Dru shook him and whispered anxiously, “Rhoyan, it’s best we be leaving now.”
“What?” Rhoyan asked. A hand clamped down over his mouth, he struggled for a minute in panic, still partially asleep.
“Begging your pardon, Highness, I’m sure,” Dru whispered, “but you’re going to have to learn to wake up more quietly.”
As he recognized the voice, Rhoyan calmed. He gazed around; it had grown quite dark. The Ramblers had retired for the night, the campfire was reduced to embers, flickering pathetically as though it knew it had been forgotten. Except for the dying firelight, it was so dark Rhoyan could hardly even make out Dru’s shape in front of him. Along with the darkness, a heavy fog was creeping in and surrounding them. The night itself seemed to be working to accommodate their escape plans.
“Perfect night for a jailbreak,” Rhoyan whispered into the darkness.
Then he noticed that he was free of his bonds. His chains lay on the ground next to him, still locked and looking for all the world as though they had not been touched. However, he was inexplicably free of them. Rhoyan noticed that Dru was free of his shackles as well.
“How?”
“Now that would be telling,” Dru said, his white teeth flashing in the dark.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
Dru gave a low laugh. “I keep an extra lock pick sewn inside the sleeve of my tunic, just in case. The Ramblers didn’t search me well enough to find it, though they took my other set. I thought it best to re-lock the chains like they were never opened, make ‘em wonder for a bit. But we had best get going if we’re going to put any kind of distance between us and these Ramblers tonight.”
“Right.”
Rhoyan crept over to the wagon that held his sword. As stealthily as he could, he opened the door and found his belongings. He buckled his sword belt around his waist feeling much better now that it was back at his side. He strapped his throwing daggers back in place, then he shrugged into his leather jerkin and was pleased to discover that the gryphon’s feather was still intact. Dru took a short knife from the pile, and Rhoyan knew better than to ask the thief if it had belonged to him.
As Rhoyan turned to leave the wagon, he bumped into something. The something let out a startled squeak and in an instant Rhoyan was behind the figure with his hand over the person’s mouth and one of his daggers at the person’s throat. The intruder struggled for a moment, but when it felt the steel of Rhoyan’s dagger at its throat, the struggling stopped.
“Shhh,” Rhoyan hissed.
The figure was draped in a heavy cloak but the hood had fallen back, revealing a shock of blond hair and two defiant eyes. In spite of the darkness of the night, Rhoyan and Dru recognized the intruder instantly.
“Calla!” Dru said.
“Dru?” she whispered, and then turned as Rhoyan released her. “Roy?” She looked back and forth between them. “But how? Why? What?” She stopped, as though desperately trying to organize her thoughts.
Rhoyan took a deep breath, “Calla,” he addressed her in her own language, barely raising his voice above a whisper. “I think you are here because you are running away, I will not lie to you, so are we. Dru and I know how to survive in the wild, and I think you could use our help, which we would be glad to offer you, but you still have a choice. You can call the guards and turn us in, which would also ruin your own best chance to escape; or you can come with us.”
The girl’s eyes widened as he spoke to her unhesitatingly in her own language and she gave a slight gasp. “You speak Ramble! You mean... you understood me? All these days…”
Rhoyan ducked his head, slightly embarrassed to have her realize how he had lied to her. “Not always,” he admitted. “You taught me more of your language every time you came and spoke with us.”
Calla’s response was the last thing either of them expected, “Good! Then we will understand each other as we travel. Come, our time to escape grows short.”
Calla whirled and motioned for them to follow her as she led the way out of the camp and into the darkne
ss of the night.
Rhoyan glanced at Dru and shrugged. “Looks like our number shall be three,” he said with a quiet laugh.
Dru’s head bobbed. “I guess.”
Then they followed the girl out into the dark; free men once more.
❖ ❖ ❖
The King’s Helm arrived back at the palace to the sad news that the king was ailing. On his return from a friendly visit to the home of Baron Montechelo, his entourage had run into severe weather. The king had insisted on pushing through the storm and had arrived at the palace soaked through and shivering with cold. His attendants had put him to bed and they reported that the king had been unable to find the strength to rise from his bed since. It had been four weeks and the court physician, Jhasen, did not know what to make of the illness.
“He battled pneumonia for a little while,” Jhasen confided to Seamas, “but he pulled out of that a few days ago. If you want my honest opinion, Your Highness, I think it is grief that’s hurting him the most.”
“What do you mean?” Seamas asked.
“The loss of your brother and then the subsequent madness of your mother took more out of your father than he ever let on. Instead of grieving, and therefore allowing the wounds to heal properly, he blocked away his true feelings. He has spent the past few years hiding those feelings from everyone but mainly hiding them from himself, and then he exerted his mind and body to the limits so there would never be a moment for the pain to rise up and hurt him again. Battling with pneumonia has taken all of his strength, I fear, and now he has no energy left to keep those walls up. Understand, Highness, when such hurts are left so long untended, their force can be enough to kill a man, even such a strong man as your father. To tell the truth, I’m surprised he has lasted this long. It’s almost as if he is waiting for something.”
“Yes, he’s waiting for something, he still hopes Rhoyan will return,” Seamas said bitterly. “I’m not enough for him.”
Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2) Page 16
