The White Arrow

by P. H. Solomon

Dareth grunted and leaned away, dazed and suddenly silent.

  Limbreth freed her foot from a stirrup and kicked Dareth's free. She edged her horse closer and shoved at her would-be husband with her shoulder and elbow. He fell from his horse, landing with another grunt.

  The dwarves laughed at the sight.

  Limbreth flashed a grin at them. Let their honor be protected. They appreciated that.

  She turned to Colonel Meegs as more dwarves answered the calls from farther along the road in either direction. "You'll find my recent journeys have left me rather direct, colonel. I'm quite willing to use my weapons—very able, in fact. These dwarves are veterans of Chokkra, and they are willing to fight now, should it come to that." She pointed a sword at the colonel. "I'm quite able to take you in a moment, should I have the need."

  Dareth stood and found words as he rushed around his horse and grasped at Limbreth with one hand, drawing his own sword. "You spoiled child. I'll see you horse-whipped!"

  Limbreth kicked him in the chin. His knees wobbled, and he fell on his backside.

  A nearby dwarf guffawed and added, "Ax-maids are rough. You sure you want this one for a wife?" The dwarves laughed again.

  Dareth struggled to his feet, his sword lifted.

  Limbreth twirled her own sword, snagging Dareth's weapon with her own and disarming him. "Attack a member of Grendon's royal house again, and I'll see you hanged as a traitor, Dareth." He opened his mouth, and she held her sword at his eye. "Speak, just speak again."

  He shut his mouth and his shoulders sagged. But his eyes flashed to the colonel.

  "You have a choice, Dareth. Ride with me to Auguron City, or ride home under guard. Trouble me again, and I'll have you tied over a baggage horse for whichever destination I choose." She looked at the colonel. "Meegs, you have a similar choice. Ride with me to Auguron City, or answer to my father for disobeying me when I return."

  The colonel fixed his dark eyes on Limbreth. "Riding for the city is death. We have but four hundred horsemen with parade lances. Those trolls will kill us all. We don't have the numbers to relieve the city of the siege. You know this."

  "Indeed, I do." She motioned to the gathering dwarves. "However, these veterans would like nothing more than to kill trolls, and they are more than enough to wreak havoc among them." One of the dwarves opened his mouth to speak, but Limbreth knew what to say and spoke faster. "A dwarf doesn't count his enemies with armor but with his ax."

  Dwarves roared approval and cheered. The roar filled the road around them, though none but those nearby knew the cause.

  Colonel Meegs's gaze remained fixed on Limbreth. Once the uproar subsided enough, he turned his head to his nearby majors. "Gentlemen, you heard your princess. We ride for the city!"

  Limbreth grinned as the dwarves hooted their delight. "Find me Erskwe and bring any other officers. I want ranks organized and scouts chosen. Gather such weapons as you have as well as rations. We march on the trolls."

  Men and dwarves swirled in a rush.

  The colonel joined Limbreth. "I hope you know what you're doing, princess. Or we'll never live to worry about what your father says about this."

  "Well, I'm not going along with this. I'll ride south." Dareth scrambled for his horse. "Bring me guards, colonel. I'll happily tell the king of your treachery against his emissary."

  "Not so fast, Dareth." Limbreth glanced at his arms. Sudden suspicion rose in her mind and she'd seen a few things among the Rokans who followed Magdronu. "First we need to check for something. Show me your bare arms."

  "I'll do no such thing." Dareth lifted his foot into a stirrup.

  Limbreth pointed a sword at this throat. "You seem rather anxious to leave and quick to attack your betrothed."

  Dareth pushed the blade from his throat. "Nonsense! You attacked me and are forcing me to leave. What else do you want of me?"

  "Remove your shirt, Dareth!" She brought her sword back to his throat before he could mount.

  "I'll do no such thing!"

  "Colonel, have your men strip his shirt off."

  Colonel Meegs ordered some men to carry out Limbreth's orders. Dareth reached for his sword on the ground, but one of the soldiers stepped on the blade. Meegs glared at Dareth. "Let's not make this too difficult." The colonel eyed Limbreth.

  She stared at the colonel without breaking her firm expression. She'd see if Dareth was loyal or not. She swallowed and narrowed her eyes. She didn't know which was better from Dareth, misguided loyalty or disloyalty.

  Dareth scuffled with the soldiers, who quickly removed his cloak and drew his shirt up. "How dare you touch me. I'm noble born and cannot suffer this way. I'll have you whipped."

  The shirt rose as far as Dareth's shoulders before Limbreth spotted the lower part of a tattoo. Her nostrils flared at what the symbol emblazoned on Dareth's shoulder blade meant. "The mark of Magdronu. He's no mage, but he's a spy."

  A dwarf drew a knife and stepped forward. "Let me gut him."

  "Hold your blade." Several emotions flared in Limbreth's thoughts, anger not the least. He'd likely been sent to drag her away. She stared at the mark on Dareth, who ceased his struggles with an expression of resignation on his face. "Colonel, I leave him in your hands to guard."

  "Shall we bring him?"

  She hesitated. Send him away, and he might escape. They'd never learn anything from him. "Bring him in irons and question him tonight."

  Chains were brought and Dareth led away captive at the colonel's orders. When Dareth was marched to the baggage train, the colonel cocked his head. "How did you know, princess?"

  Around them, dwarves formed ranks, their veterans easily remembering their past experiences. Limbreth inhaled and released a long sigh. If she didn't know better, she'd think she’d been drawn away from Auguron City. But how, and why?

  She looked the colonel in the eyes and shrugged. "He's a bad actor. If he'd truly been interested in me and the place he could win, he would have spent his time wooing me. He would have pleaded with me not to waste my life. He would have been jealous of another man."

  "A poor actor indeed." The colonel gazed in the direction of the baggage train. "Would you like to be present at his questioning?"

  Limbreth stroked her braid in thought. "Not directly. Put him inside a tent, and I'll listen from outside." She shrugged. "I doubt he's got much to offer that we need now, but I'm certain there's much he knows about plots against Grendon."

  Colonel Meegs's face paled. "I shudder to know those secrets. But better to know the traitor's plans than be blind to them. We'll send messages if there's anything impending. I had no notion of this until now."

  "He may know some details but not all." At a look from Meegs, Limbreth continued, "After many dealings with the dragon's minions and servants these last months, there's one thing I know: they don't know all. The dragon keeps his deeper schemes close to himself and maybe his mages." Her eyes narrowed as she watched a group of dwarves approach, one of them Erskwe. "At any rate, his plans appear fluid, but he has one goal, and that's his own power." She chewed her lower lip. And he'd found a way to play her out of his way. But to what end?

  "You seem to have learned much on this journey of yours." Colonel Meegs flashed a wry smile at her. "Your father should know of the information you've gathered."

  Limbreth glanced skyward in thought. Perhaps a message was in order. "Prepare something when we know more from Dareth. But there's much my father won't learn until I return home. Especially about my ties to dwarves."

  "Indeed. I think he should be proud of you." Meegs lifted a finger. "But we yet need to survive this wild gambit of yours."

  "We can turn the tide against the dragon's trolls with these dwarves." She pressed two fingers to her lips and sketched the bow of an ax-maid to the dwarven officers as they approached

  The ten dwarves returned their various bows to Limbreth. Erskwe spoke for the group, "Well met and well-done, ax-maid. May your, um, braid grow to your knees."

  Li
mbreth suppressed a grin. Best to keep it formal and proper for now. "My thanks for your aid. May your beards never be cut, nor your knots be loosened in misfortune."

  The dwarves muttered their approval in dwarvish and nodded among themselves. Erskwe gazed hard at his fellow dwarves as if to emphasize that he'd been right about her. He turned his gaze upon Limbreth again and exhaled so deeply that his mustache fluttered. "We're organizing into marching lines now and gathering our weapons. We'll organize down to squads as we march and take inventory of weapons. Few carry battle-axes, but we've such arms as we carry these days."

  "Good. I'd expect nothing less of solid veterans. You’re hardy with your travels. Have them spar a bit each night." She lifted a finger. "But not too long. It's three days yet to Auguron City, and we want them fresh too. I suspect we'll need some guile to approach the bridge while it’s under attack. But just the surprise may put these trolls in confusion."

  One of the dwarves bowed. "I'm Montug, ax-maid. Trolls are rabble, but we'll need some luck to send that many in retreat."

  Limbreth nodded. "That's why we need scouts. Pick your best men." Her gaze included Colonel Meegs. "We'll need to know the situation so we can plan the most confusion and thus free the rangers to help us clear the way. Confusion leads to rout. We get to choose our approach."

  The dwarves muttered assent, and Meegs saluted.

  Limbreth clapped her hands once. "Then we should be moving now, or Auguron City may be in flames before we can lend our aid. I'll need full reports from you all on your units as we progress."

  The dwarves forestalled total organization for simple marching ranks and set out behind the Grendonese cavalry. Limbreth led her army north. Her stomach fluttered with misgiving as much as excitement. They might not reach the city in time.

  Athson entered her thoughts, his bearded jaw after days on the trail that set her heart racing. She loved him. At least she thought she did. She spent far too much time thinking about him not to. She shrugged. But trust was another matter. And a question to which she had no answer. Auguron's safety meant more now, and then she could deal with Athson. She didn't know if she'd ever trust him again. She couldn't account for Athson now; she was just bringing help to Auguron City because that was the right thing to do. She couldn't let it be for Athson, no matter how much she wanted to make it about him. After all, she hadn't decided to trust him with herself. Yet.

  And so Limbreth's army marched on Auguron City for more than two days until they arrived south of the city, just within a short trek and battle. Her heart sank at the reports of her scouts, but her officers looked toward her for leadership.

  The night of the second day, they slept without tents in the cold of the late winter, the better to set out before dawn. She slept fitfully, butterflies rolling around her belly, and dreamed of shadow crossing Auguron's bridge.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Athson sulked for three days, and Hastra fretted. Trolls were arriving across the river in undisciplined ranks, hooting and howling their rage. Sarneth's rescue fleet of small boats only partially worked, with some travelers and rangers able to board before pursuing trolls had attacked them. Others had swum for the safety of the boats. Many made it, and many didn't. All three days, the Withling waited for the slightest guidance from an urge about the White Arrow, but nothing pierced her growing apprehension.

  Today she had requested Athson sit with her and Danilla, and Hastra now resisted an urge to scream. The bearer of the Bow of Hart sat forlorn, his mind on the departed Limbreth. She sighed. "Athson."

  He didn't stir.

  "Athson."

  His fingers fit the pieces of the arrow together, and he frowned.

  "Athson!" Hastra immediately regretted her waspish tone.

  Danilla jumped where she sat in the corner doing needlework with what she'd brought along from Rok.

  "What?" He twisted his head and gazed at her, his tone edged with anger.

  "Why don't you go get us something to drink?" Do something besides mope. Her own anger flared, but she held her tongue. Just when he’d turned the corner, now this.

  "Don't feel like it." His gaze returned to the broken arrow.

  Danilla peered at her son but continued her needlework. He was ignoring her too, it seemed. Athson's mother shook her head slightly.

  Hastra sighed and stood on wobbly knees. She was weaker every day and got no help from Athson. She paused at the door. That wasn't fair. He wasn't a trained Withling. "I'm going, then. Would you like something?"

  "Uh, yeah, sure."

  "Tea for me, or do you need help?" Danilla paused with her needle.

  "No, I can get it." Athson said nothing else, so Hastra left and returned with an ale for him and tea for herself and Danilla. She sloshed the ale beside his hand on the table like a weary tavern maid and returned to her seat.

  "Thanks." Athson hadn’t noticed her shoddy delivery and ignored the mug for several minutes.

  Hastra stared at him. Undone by Limbreth's repudiation of him. At least the rest of their group spent their time more wisely in the face of the impending danger from the swelling numbers of trolls across the river. The dwarves assisted Sarneth. Ralda worked on setting the defenses on the moored barges and boats. Gweld already drilled with his new unit. Even her sister and Howart sought word of the rumored Rokans in the city. But Athson sat with Hastra and mumbled about Limbreth or the Funnel.

  "Why don't you do something?"

  Athson lifted his gaze from the broken arrow again. "I was until you pulled me in here today. At least drilling with the rangers kept my mind busy."

  Hastra snorted. "Sarneth said you stepped on feet, dropped arrows, and almost set someone's cloak aflame."

  Athson sat back in his chair in the dining room of the Broken Bow Inn and stared at her. "That's why we drill."

  "No, that's—"

  "Are we back to squabbling, Hastra?" He stood and paced the room. "You want me to just snap my fingers and come up with an answer?" He leaned over the table from the other end and pointed to his head. "I don't hear Eloch. At least, I don't know when I do, and I've heard nothing about that." He waved his hand at the broken arrow. His face contorted. "Limbreth didn't..." He lifted his gaze to Hastra. "I'm not perfect, and she storms away and leaves me this." He grabbed the Bow of Hart and headed for the door.

  Hastra snagged his arm. “I'm sorry. Let's just start over, and I'll work with you." She really needed his help. Maybe he would hear something if she didn't.

  Athson pulled from her grasp and yanked the door open. But he paused in the doorway, stepped back into the room, and shut the door. He stared at the wood. "I don't know what to do, Hastra. She's gone. I failed, and I don't know what to do."

  She pushed a chair out for him. Maybe he needed some guidance about being a Withling. "Sit. We'll try a few methods of training. I want to help you as much as I can."

  He sat and propped his head in his hands. "I don't know anything except that none of this is for Magdronu." He lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Hastra over his fingertips, his features hidden. "That's what you keep saying, anyway. What can I do?" He set the bow on the table and slapped it. "This was no good to me at the Funnel when—when—" He swallowed and stared at the opposite wall. "When I needed it. When I didn't help—"

  Hastra groaned. "Athson, this has to stop. You were better before she left, more lucid and calm. Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself. You told her the truth, and it shocked her. But you did the correct thing by speaking to her about it. You weren't perfect and you won't be. She wasn't. I'm not."

  "You sound like Apeth." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. "What is wrong with me?"

  "If I sound like Apeth, then what did he have you do about it?" Hastra leaned forward, her gaze intent. This was important.

  Athson stood. "Look, it doesn't matter. I've driven her away, and it's all my fault."

  Hastra leaned back, stood, and walked to the window. "It has to stop."

  Danilla set aside her
needle-work. "Athson, dear. Why don't you try writing her a letter?"

  He fiddled with the pieces of the arrow. "That won't work, she's gone. For good." He sighed.

  Danilla bit her lip and glanced Hastra's way before she continued, "She might not get it for a while but it will make you feel better just to tell her everything. Tell her how you feel about her. Tell her about the curse - that you didn't know about it. Tell you would never hurt her or abandon her, that you know better how to deal with it. Let her know you never wanted harm to come to her." She glanced toward Hastra.

  Hastra nodded and looked back out the window.

  "It won't work." Athson's chair scuffed on the floor as he got to his feet and left.

  Behind Hastra, the door opened and closed. "We'll have to find another way, Danilla." She tapped her lips with a finger. "Gweld knows him best. We'll ask him to help." She spied Athson's makeshift standard leaning in the corner. "He's even forgotten that banner. He was so motivated and now he doesn't care at all. At least he took the bow and arrow."

  Hastra wrote a note to Sarneth, requesting Gweld's presence. She waited, drumming her fingers on the table. She was getting too old and weak to walk across the city. Not like her sister and Howart. She gazed at the message left for her from her sister.

  Found rumor of a few Shildrans and maybe one Rokan. They haven't been seen for a few days but left all day and returned well after dark. Nothing else. Still searching.

  "Danilla, since Athson's not around now, could you go look for Zelma? She may need your help searching for those Shildrans." Hastra fumbled with the paper. They needed to find out if there were Rokan agents in the city or not.

  Danilla stood and set the frame and pattern aside. "Anything I can help with. Do you know where they are?"

  Hastra flipped over the message. "This reads the Leaky Ladle. May as well try there. I don't think that's elven owned either."

  "I'll get my cloak. Perhaps someone can give me directions or one of those rangers can help." She shrugged. "Maybe I can get Athson to help me find it. I'll take this to him too." Athson's mother retrieved the spear.

  Hastra snorted. "It would give him something useful to do instead of practicing his long-face."