The Rise of Aredor

by Claire M Banschbach

  “How are you doing?” He pulled away, keeping a hand on her shoulder as if afraid she would vanish in front of his eyes.

  “Better now.” She drew a deep breath and wiped the last tears away. There was so much she wanted to ask, but she needed to know first. “Have you found anyone else?”

  “Not yet.” His shoulders slumped, and she hated that this was his homecoming, even as a sharp pain struck her heart that their family was still missing.

  “Amaura, we can get you out of here, right now. We have some friends in Clan Dyson. They could take you in.”

  Amaura thought for a moment. It was tempting. She could reclaim a semblance of her past life and title, but stubbornness prompted her final decision. She wanted to do something for her country.

  “No, I’ll stay here. I’m in the castle, maybe I can help you.”

  Corin smiled. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

  “I’ve grown up.” She tilted her chin up with a small smile. “But you’re different than I remember. What happened?”

  His smile faded and Amaura wondered if she’d said something wrong. “It’s a very long story. Maybe I’ll tell you, one day when we’re free again.”

  “Do you really think that will happen?” Sudden hope blossomed in her heart. When he said it, she could almost believe it.

  “One day. Do you think you could do something for us?” He hesitated over the question. “It might get dangerous.”

  “I don’t care. What do you need?”

  “I need you to keep a lookout for any news of Father or Darrin. We need to find them.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised. An outburst from the market behind them reminded her of her current duty. “But I should go. They’ll begin to miss me soon.” She gave Corin one last hug.

  “You be careful,” Corin said.

  “I will. Be safe, Corin,” she replied and then she was gone back to the castle while he returned to the forest.

  * * *

  As the weeks passed, the air grew colder and colder. Ice began crusting the streams and rivers. As the first snow began falling, the outlaws stayed close to the caves. The Calorins were still unused to the bitter winters of Aredor, so they seldom ventured out from their castles and keeps.

  The outlaws set about making the caves more homelike. Rough tables and benches were built and set in the main cave. As captain of the Hawk Flight, Corin was quartered in one of the small rock chambers that opened off the main cavern. A natural ledge ran around the cave where he kept his few belongings and slept on a pile of blankets and deer skins. The ledge also provided a perch for Karif, who hated being apart from Corin.

  With Calorin movement lessened by the heavy snows, the Hawk Flight began roaming farther into Aredor, searching for any word on Darrin or the king and queen. By midwinter, they got it.

  Tristan brought Corin a piece of paper after coming in from a patrol.

  “Rhys gave me this down in Carnedd. He said it came from someone in the castle.”

  Corin scanned the message, the paper coming dangerously close to being crushed in his hand. “It’s from Amaura. She says she’s found Darrin.”

  A murmur ran through the men gathered in the cave.

  “Does she say where?” Trey was the first to ask.

  “No.” Corin handed the paper to Trey.

  “How do we know it’s not some trick by Balkor? We’d walk right into a trap,” Trey said as he read the short message.

  “Well, I guess we pay Amaura a visit.”

  * * *

  A wagon rumbled slowly down the road toward Kingstown. Two young men sat in the back atop the sacks of grain.

  “Do they always demand so much, Pryce?” Corin asked the old man who drove the cart. He and Trey had exchanged their uniforms for the rougher clothes of the villagers.

  “Aye, my lord,” Pryce replied. “If we do not deliver the correct amount, the Calorins come and take what they want by force.”

  “How often do these wagons go in?” Trey asked.

  “Once every month, sir.”

  “Do you still have enough to eat in your village?” Corin asked.

  “We live, sire. It’s hardest on the little ones.”

  All talk ceased as they rolled up to the gates. The guards recognized Pryce and waved him through. Corin and Trey sat silently with heads bowed as if they were weary, subdued peasants. When they reached the castle, the steward came out to count the bags in the wagon.

  “Unload it, and take it to the storeroom,” he ordered when he finished the tally.

  Corin and Trey descended from the wagon and pulled bags of grain down. Slinging them over their shoulders, they followed a soldier to the storerooms, their path taking them by the kitchens. A familiar serving girl stood aside to let them pass on their last trip in and Amaura stifled her surprise when Corin gave her a smile and a wink. They returned to find her loitering in the hallway.

  “What are you two doing here?” she whispered, drawing them into a branching corridor, giving them quick hugs. Corin noticed when her hand lingered on Trey’s arm and he bent close to greet her. Trey’s insistence on accompanying him and Martin’s lack of protest was beginning to make more sense.

  “You sent us the note?” Corin asked.

  “Yes, he’s in the dungeon here. Corin, I feel like a fool. Two years and he’s been here the whole time! There’s always been prisoners here, so I just didn’t think…” She pressed a clenched hand against her lips.

  “How did you find out?” Trey asked.

  “I started serving the officers to see if I could learn any information from them. One mentioned an important prisoner and questioned how safe he was with you growing so bold, so I managed to be the one to take food down to the cells and I saw him.”

  Corin refused to ask what condition he was in. If he’d known Darrin was this close, they would have come prepared. “Do you think you can safely get a message to him?”

  “Yes, I think so. Can you get him out?”

  “It’s too dangerous right now with all the Calorins here. We’ll make a move when spring arrives,” Corin replied. How, he had no idea just yet.

  “Cor, someone’s coming,” Trey warned as footsteps sounded in the corridor behind them. Corin handed Amaura a slip of paper.

  “For Darrin,” he whispered and then they walked back to the courtyard where Pryce waited in the wagon.

  * * *

  The rest of the winter passed quietly. Corin began planning. They would need the best plan to get Darrin out of the heavily guarded Kingscastle. As the winter snows began to melt, Corin began sending the patrols out again. They brought back reports of hardship in the smaller villages. The winter and Calorins had been especially hard on them. The outlaws shared their supplies where they could and brought in fresh meat from the forest. The days finally grew warmer, and Corin began putting his plan into action.

  Chapter 12

  “You sure about this, Corin?” Liam asked.

  “No,” Corin replied with a grin. He stood in his small chamber, stripped to the waist, rubbing the paste into his skin. When he finished, his whole upper body, face, and hair were turned a dark brown. Liam sighed again and began handing Corin the rest of his uniform.

  “And you’re sure you’re going in alone?” Liam asked as Corin finished fastening the last buckle on the uniform. Arming himself with weapons taken from their store, Corin stood ready. Liam was forced to admit that he looked the part. Martin pulled the curtain back and entered the room. He paused for a moment.

  “If I didn’t know any better, Corin, I would’ve run you through.”

  “Then this might work after all.” Corin was reluctant to remind them that the real test would be the scrutiny of the Calorins.

  “Seeing as this is more reckless than your usual plans, I hope so,” Martin said. Liam voiced his agreement as he handed Corin a helmet.

  “I guess I have a reputation to keep up.” Corin forced a light tone. He had enough worry of his ow
n, he didn’t need them to keep reminding him of the dangers of the plan.

  “Your horse is outside. The sooner you leave, the sooner you come back.” Martin frowned, obviously refusing to be comforted.

  They made their way outside where Steffan held a bay stallion saddled and bridled. Corin donned the helmet and mounted.

  “Right, with luck, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with Darrin.”

  “Just…be careful, Corin,” Liam said.

  Throwing them a salute, Corin spurred his horse forward and made for the Lynwood Track. Late afternoon saw him riding through the gates of Kingscastle.

  * * *

  Corin strode down a corridor and descended the steps into the dungeons. No guards were in sight. He’d spent hours over the last few days refreshing his memories of the castle with Martin. Their youthful escapades hadn’t often led them to this part of the castle. Even with all his dreams of returning home, the kitchens and the dungeon hadn’t been the first place he’d thought to visit in Kingscastle. Coming to the third cell, he stopped. The occupant barely looked up as he approached.

  “What do you want?” he asked in Calorin.

  It took a few seconds for Corin to formulate a reply in Rhyddan, his heart thudding as he caught a glimpse of his brother for the first time in years.

  “I want to get you out of here.”

  Darrin’s head snapped up in quick surprise. “You’re the one?”

  “Aye, I’ll be back later. Will you be able to ride?” Corin forced himself not to dwell on how thin Darrin was.

  “If it means freedom, I’m strong enough to do anything,” Darrin replied.

  “Good. Be patient for now. I’ll come back before dawn.” Corin turned away, feeling Darrin’s hard stare follow him as he left the dungeon.

  * * *

  Amaura was laying the fire in the great hall. She hardly looked up at the Calorin leaning against a nearby pillar.

  “I think you’ll need more kindling,” he murmured in Rhyddan.

  Amaura recognized his voice. “Corin?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Amaura stood as the fire sprang to life. “Listen, Balkor is gone for a few days. I saw Darrin’s sword in his chambers. I think I can get it out for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Amaura gave a quick nod. There would no doubt be repercussions, but anything to let Balkor know he wasn’t as secure as he proclaimed.

  “Do you think you can leave it in the stables?” Corin asked again.

  “Yes. I’ll get it during the late watch.”

  “Be careful, Maurie. Last stall on your left.” He pushed away from the pillar.

  “Good luck. Let Darrin know I’m safe,” Amaura said before she walked away.

  * * *

  The torches flickered in the quiet hallways as Amaura stole through the sleeping castle. She halted at the foot of a staircase and listened for a moment. Hearing only the pounding of her heart, she ascended with the whisper of her shoes against the stone. She pushed open the door to Lord Balkor’s chambers, holding her breath as it creaked open. She slipped inside and over to the far wall where the sword hung.

  Standing on tiptoes, she reached up and took it down. Wrapping her shawl around the sword, she left the chamber. As she reached the stairs again, the tramp of the guards’ feet echoed off the stone. She looked around wildly for a place to hide. A tapestry hung nearby, sheltering a small alcove. She ducked behind it just in time. The guards paused for a few moments in the hallway before continuing on their patrol.

  As soon as it was quiet again, Amaura left her hiding place and made for the stables. She exited the castle through the unguarded servant’s quarters. She crossed the courtyard to the stables unseen and carried her precious bundle to the last stall. The bay stallion, freshly saddled and bridled, stood patiently in the stall. Exchanging her shawl for a blanket, she left the sword leaning against the wall of the stall.

  * * *

  Two hours before dawn, Corin entered the stables and quickly saddled his stallion and the horse next to it. Shouldering his pack, he left the stall.

  “Bit early aren’t you?” the prison guard asked as Corin entered the dungeons.

  “I thought you might like to leave earlier,” Corin answered.

  “That I would, but I know my duties.”

  Corin shrugged and went down the steps. “Here, what’s this?” he called.

  The guard ran to join him. “What?”

  “This cell’s unlocked.” Corin pointed at a door.

  As the guard bent to check the lock, Corin sent his fist crashing down into the man’s head. The soldier dropped unconscious to the ground. Corin relieved him of the keys and unlocked the door to Darrin’s cell. Darrin stood to meet him as the door swung open. Corin opened his pack, forcing himself to focus on the mission first.

  “Put these on.” He handed clothes to Darrin.

  Darrin quickly donned the Argusian uniform, casting away his old clothes. Corin went to the fallen guard and stripped him of his weapons. Tossing these to Darrin, he dragged the soldier into the cell, making sure he was securely bound and gagged before he relocked the cell.

  Darrin had armed himself and was lacing up the boots also taken from the guard. Taking up a black scarf, he tied it around his nose and mouth and pulled on an Argusian helmet over all, effectively masking most of his features.

  “Ready?” Corin asked.

  Darrin nodded and they left the dungeons. Reaching the top of the stairs, they came face-to-face with a pair of Calorin soldiers.

  “Leaving the prisoner unguarded?” one asked.

  Darrin suddenly bent double and began coughing. Catching on, Corin reached out to steady him.

  “My mate here suddenly took sick. I’m taking him to the infirmary, sir,” Corin said.

  “Sick with what?” The soldier’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Don’t know, sir. I just hope it’s not the plague.”

  At the mention of plague, the soldiers stepped back, and doubt creased their features as Darrin gave a groan.

  “All right, but what about the prisoner?” The Calorin still hesitated.

  “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back as soon as I get him to the healer. The prisoner won’t be going anywhere.” Corin jangled the keys meaningfully. “Unless you want to take him to the infirmary so I can resume my duties, sir?”

  Still taken with the thought of plague, the soldier shook his head vigorously. “No, no, carry on,” he said a little nervously, and he and his companion hurried off.

  As they disappeared around the corner, Darrin straightened up. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  “Aye, that was too close,” Corin agreed.

  The sky had begun to lighten as they made it to the stables. Corin saw a long object wrapped in cloth leaning against the wall and picked it up. Unwrapping the top, he saw the hilt of a broadsword. A wolf ran down the handle towards the carved pommel. Covering it again, he strapped it to his saddle. Once out of the stables, they mounted and rode to the main gate.

  “I’m taking a message to Lynwood, sir,” Corin replied to the guard’s challenge.

  “Are you crazy? Riding through that cursed forest alone?” the sentry asked.

  “That’s why they’re sending an Argusian with me,” Corin replied as if the sentry was stupid.

  The sentry took in his companion dressed in the flowing Argusian robes, face covered in the manner of the mercenaries. Still shaking his head at their foolishness, the sentry stood aside to let them pass. Corin returned the guard’s salute as they rode through the gate. Restraining a wild urge to gallop away, Corin and Darrin rode slowly through the town. Once on the Lynwood Track, Corin set a quicker pace for the forest.

  By late afternoon, they had reached the welcoming shelter of Dunham, and Corin drew a sigh of relief. The journey had been quiet and quick after bluffing their way past two Calorin outposts on the road. Turning off the track, Corin led Darrin deeper into the safety of
the forest. Halting at a stream, they dismounted to drink.

  Corin took off his helmet and threw it aside. “We won’t need these anymore.”

  Darrin gratefully did the same, and removed the mask covering his face.

  “Where are we going exactly?” he asked.

  “To rejoin the Hawk Flight,” Corin answered. “It’s not too far now.” He could see that Darrin was exhausted. The journey had been hard on him after spending nearly three years in the confines of the dungeon. Mounting again, they continued on.

  Half an hour’s riding brought them to the Darkan River, and Corin turned to the ford. Their progress was interrupted when a cloaked figure stepped out of the trees. Corin’s horse reared in surprise, nearly unseating him. As he regained control of the stallion, Darrin rode up behind him.

  “Trey! You could have said something!” Corin yelled.

  “It’s more fun this way. Anyway, it serves you right for sneaking off alone like that, Captain,” Trey replied smugly.

  “What was I supposed to do? If I didn’t, half the warband would’ve insisted on coming!” Corin argued indignantly, finally bringing the stallion to a standstill as a rumbling chuckle broke from Darrin.

  Trey turned to Darrin. “Welcome back, sire.”

  “It’s good to see you still alive, Trey,” Darrin said.

  They were joined by more members of the warband.

  “You made it back in one piece, Captain.” Martin’s remark brought grins and chuckles from the men.

  “Don’t sound so surprised, Martin.” Corin laughed as he dismounted.

  “Here, Liam said to give this to you.” Martin handed Corin some soap and a rough towel.

  “Thanks, where is he?”

  “He and some of the lads went to help Tristan transport some confiscated barrels of ale,” Martin said with a grin.

  Fresh laughter greeted this comment. Darrin also dismounted and greeted Martin and the men he knew. Martin caught Corin’s glance and nodded. Something like panic was beginning to well up as he stared at Darrin. He hadn’t thought much beyond this point.

  “Well, sir, if you’ll come with us, we’ll get you some new clothes and some decent food,” Martin said to Darrin.