“I’m not accompanying you to the highway,” Erdhan replied. “I’m coming with you.”
Chapter 12
Orlla’s expression hardened when it dawned on her Erdhan was serious. “You can’t come with me.”
He shrugged. “Why not? I will be conscripted anyway. I might as head north with you for now. Besides, the Kingsmen are right about one thing—it’s dangerous for a woman to travel alone with a murderer on the loose and war brewing.”
Orlla put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself up on her horse’s back. “I’m not going north. I’m going south.”
Erdhan’s blond brows shot halfway up his forehead. He scratched the back of his head. “South to where?”
Orlla set her lips in a resolute line. “Back to the forest where you found me.”
Erdhan shook his head in bewilderment. “Why would you do that?”
Orlla tossed her hair back and urged her horse forward. “Like you said, the road north is too dangerous for a woman traveling alone.”
Erdhan leapt onto his horse and trotted after her. “This isn’t about the Kingsmen, is it? What are you running from?”
“Nothing!” Orlla insisted, the pitch of her voice saying otherwise.
“You really do take me for a peasant fool, don’t you?”
“I’m … sorry.” Orlla stumbled over the apology. “I meant, nothing that I can talk about.” She pursed her lips and chose her next words more carefully. “You’ve done more than enough for me already, Erdhan. Please, just return to your family and let me disappear into the forest before the Kingsmen awake and all is lost.”
A haunted look crossed his face. “The forest may not be any safer than the road. It could be teeming with soldiers by now.”
Orlla took a deep breath, noting the baldric strapped over his shoulder and the dagger in his boots. While she was grateful for his concern, she had to rid herself of him, once and for all, for both their sakes. She couldn’t allow him to risk his life on her behalf when he had younger brothers and parents who depended on him. “I won’t be alone.” She softened her tone. “A friend awaits me in the woods.”
Erdhan’s blue eyes crinkled in confusion, the laughter that ordinarily lit them from within fading a little. He bit his lip and gave a curt nod. “In that case, I will accompany you to the edge of the woods and take my leave.”
Orlla nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had hurt him, worse than she had intended. But an ache pulled at her own heart as well, and that she hadn’t expected.
Erdhan handed her a tiny carved dagger. “I want you to have this. In case you run into trouble.”
“Thank you,” Orlla said, slipping it inside her boot as she kicked her horse into motion.
They trotted in silence until they were out of earshot of the house and then spurred the horses into a gallop, the thudding of hooves on the hard-packed dirt the only sound that broke the ghostly stillness. Orlla was keen to put as much distance as possible between herself and Wilefur during the next watch. Sleeping draught or no sleeping draught, she couldn’t count on Horace and Arnulf slumbering all the way through the night. If they woke and found her gone, they would be after her in half a heartbeat. She needed to reach the safety of the runes before that happened.
They encountered no one as they journeyed south, and Orlla’s hope that she might yet intercept Samten began to fade. In the early hours of the morning, they passed The Leaky Cup, swathed in shadows, where a lone cockerel greeted them.
Just as the deep forests leading into the Angladior mountains came into view in the distance, the thunder of hoofbeats reached their ears. Orlla’s eyes locked with Erdhan’s. “Go! I know my way from here.”
“I won’t abandon you if you are being pursued.”
“I implore you to leave,” Orlla said. “I can lose them now and you will only slow me down.”
Erdhan hesitated. “I will attempt to lead them away. Wait for me in the woods.”
“I cannot promise it.”
After a tense pause, he asked, “Will I see you again?”
Orlla gave a rueful smile. “You must hope not. If you see me again, it will not be a good thing.”
An unsettled look flitted across his face as he turned his horse and dug in his knees to drive it forward.
Orlla watched him canter back down the road in the direction they had come. She galloped on, strangely disquieted at the thought that she would never see Erdhan again. She had misjudged his jovial manner and droll remarks for flightiness, but beneath all his jesting, his heart was stalwart and selfless.
Her breath froze in her throat as the sound of hooves grew louder. The rider was coming from the south! Quick as a flash she steered her mount off the road and into the cover of the trees. A rider galloping by would never notice her shielded behind the leafy branches in the darkness. She pulled out her bow and nocked an arrow anyway, her Keeper training kicking in.
Her eyes probed the shadows as the hoofbeats drew closer. She steadied her aim, keeping her eyes fixed on the road. A moment later a disheveled rider came into view, his face drawn, dark hair flopping in his eyes. Orlla let out a gasp as he flew past. Samten! The arrow slipped from her hand. By the time she loosed her tongue to hail him with a shout, he had already traveled too far to hear her.
A second set of hooves pounded toward her. Without taking her eyes from the road, she reached into her quiver and grabbed another arrow. Steeling her nerves, she took aim once more, grim determination in the set of her lips. Someone was pursing her brother, and she was the only one standing between them.
She breathed steadily in and out as the dark shape of a large stallion rounded the corner. On its back rode a tall, hooded man, encased in black. Fear slammed into Orlla’s gut. She hesitated only a fraction of a second before letting her arrow fly. It hit the rider in the chest and he toppled sideways off his horse and onto the road with a heavy thud. The stallion galloped on into the night, free and weightless.
Orlla waited for a moment or two to make sure the figure remained unmoving, and then slid off her horse’s back and climbed the shallow embankment to the road. Cautiously, she approached the crumpled body. With the end of her bow, she hooked the man’s hood and pulled it down. A black Protector’s mask covered half his face. She knelt at his side and lifted his arm, staring silently at the crossed swords inscribed within an oval sigil on his gauntlet.
She ground her teeth. This was the assassin King Ferghell had sent to kill Samten—possibly her as well. She took a moment to catch her breath, before remembering that Samten was still fleeing for his life, unaware that the threat was gone. She turned and sped back to her horse. She would take him back with her to Efyllsseum tonight if it was the last thing she did.
Abandoning stealth, she galloped off in pursuit. Before long, she spotted her brother a short distance ahead on the road. His steed was tiring, and she quickly began to gain on him until she was close enough to shout. “Samten!” She yelled his name out several more times, but he didn’t turn around. Gripping her reins, she urged her horse on faster until she drew level with him. “Samten! It’s me, Orlla!”
Eyes wild and uncomprehending, he threw her a frantic, sidelong glance without slowing pace.
“The assassin’s dead! I put an arrow through his heart.”
He blinked at her, his face pale and glistening with sweat, hair slick across his forehead. Finally, seeming to grasp what she was saying, he pulled on his reins to slow his horse, heaving rasping breaths. “I’m … not going back to Efyllsseum.”
“Listen to me, Samten, we don’t have a choice. Brufus has declared war on Macobin. I am hunted by Hamend’s Kingsmen who believe me to be a spy. We need to leave now before the first troops arrive. Either side is liable to kill us.”
“Not if I sign up,” Samten panted. “I’m not a Keeper. Never was.” He grimaced and then looked earnestly at her. “Especially not now.”
“What do you mean especially not now?” Orlla frowned at him.
<
br /> “King Ferghell’s greedy hold on the Opal of Light has cursed the mainland.” He paused, his eyes glittering with anger. “The price of our eternal youth.”
Orlla gave a heavy sigh. Now that Samten knew the truth, it could never be undone. Even if she forced him to return to Efyllsseum, he wouldn’t keep quiet about what he had seen and heard. He’d end up confined to King Ferghell's dungeons for the rest of his life or hanged for treason. But he wasn’t safe here on the mainland either.
Her thoughts twisted this way and that as she tried to come up with a plan to keep him out of harm’s way. She couldn’t take him back to Erdhan’s house, not as long as the Kingsmen remained there. Fuzzy memories of Dorsching flitted to mind. Perhaps if some of her mother’s friends or neighbors remembered her, they might take her and Samten in, at least temporarily. She would have to come up with a convincing story to explain Samten to them. The idea of going to Dorsching was fraught with risk. If they let anything at all slip about the island kingdom, it wouldn’t take long to get back to King Hamend. But for now, in as desperate a situation as she was in, it was the only plan she could conceive of.
“Are you fit to ride?” she asked.
“How far?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Through the night. We need to get as far from Wilefur as we can.”
Samten eyed her curiously. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that, thanks to you.”
A look of defiance flitted across his face. “You shouldn’t have come after me. I could have outrun the assassin.”
Orlla rolled her eyes. “That stallion would have caught up with you in half a length.”
Samten scowled. “My horse needs a break. Let’s find somewhere to shelter for a bit.”
Orlla cast a nervous glance back down the shadowy road. Every minute they delayed increased the risk of the Kingsmen waking and discovering she had fled. “We can rest for a few minutes and then we must be on our way. The assassin may be dead, but the Kingsmen will pursue me at first light, if not before.”
They led the horses off the road and deep into the brush until they came across a copse of trees with sufficient cover to conceal them from anyone traveling along the road. Samten dismounted and collapsed in the grass, too tired to even secure his mount. Orlla led both horses a short distance away to a small stream and watered them before securing them to a nearby yew tree.
She threw herself down next to Samten and watched his chest rise and fall in sleep. The relief she felt at finding him was overwhelming. But now she had the grave responsibility of keeping him alive. She was already doubting her decision to head for Dorsching. What if the Kingsmen were waiting for her there?
She closed her eyes and felt herself starting to drift off. They couldn’t afford to delay long, but she might as well rest while Samten dozed.
She woke with a start and bolted upright, relieved to see that the moon was still high. Yawning, she leaned over and shook Samten awake.
“Every part of me hurts,” he groaned as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“It will hurt even more by the time we’re done riding,” Orlla said. “On your feet, we’re wasting time.”
She shivered in the brisk, night air. If it turned much colder, they would need to procure warmer cloaks more suited to the inclement weather on the mainland. They had no coin to purchase them, but she was loathe to steal from people who had so little to begin with. She was tempted to trade some arrows, but it would raise questions and people would talk.
They mounted up and were soon back on the road, cantering north. Once they had covered some ground, they reined their horses up to a walk, Samten taking the lead.
Rounding a bend in the road, Orlla’s heart jolted when two dark shapes leapt out at her.
Chapter 13
Orlla’s mare reared up, whinnying in fear as two cloaked figures fumbled for the reins.
“Flee, Samten! Now!” she yelled as she frantically tried to urge her mare forward.
Samten cast a look of terror her way, his horse circling in the trail, nostrils flaring.
“Go!” she screamed, her lungs burning as she fought to fend off her attackers. “I’m right behind you!”
Propelled into action by her words, Samten turned and galloped off, his horse’s hooves flinging up clods of mud as he disappeared into the darkness.
Orlla yelped when one of her assailants got a hold of her arm and yanked her roughly from the saddle. She fell to the ground with a heavy thud, narrowly missing landing on her wrist. Looking up, she saw Horace and Arnulf towering above her. Rage rippled through her.
“Who’s Samten?” Horace growled, his thick lips twisted in a scowl. “Another of Brufus’s spies?”
Orlla glared at him. “I won’t divulge any details about my acquaintances as long as you insist on accusing us of being spies.”
Arnulf threw her a disgruntled look, his dark eyebrows hunched together. “Seems you have more to hide than I thought. As for your guilt or innocence, we’ll leave that for the court to decide. Our job is to transport you to Lichtenburg.”
“What happened to Dorsching?” Orlla asked.
“Change of plan.” Horace curled his lip. “You’ve proven you’ll bail on us given half a chance. We need to get you to Lichtenburg before Brufus’s army arrives. Maybe the court can torture something of use out of you to pass on to our troops.”
He pulled out a rope from under his cloak and proceeded to tie Orlla’s wrists in front of her, tightening her bonds until her wrists smarted before lifting her back on her horse.
Arnulf retreated into the trees and reappeared a few minutes later with their mounts. He attached a lead rope to Orlla’s horse, making sure it was snug.
The Kingsmen swung themselves into their saddles and kicked their horses forward.
Orlla’s thoughts went straight to Samten. Would he have the sense not to attempt a dramatic rescue along the way? Despite the fact that the Kingsmen were vigilant about keeping their weapons concealed, Orlla knew they were armed with daggers and swords and would not hesitate to use them. Judging by the speed at which Arnulf whipped out his knife when the injured man fell through the tavern door, Kingsmen were no novices when it came to weaponry.
Throughout the rest of the long, weary journey to Lichtenburg, Orlla dozed intermittently, her head bobbing forward and jerking upright until her neck muscles ached from whiplash. Her wrists throbbed where the rope rubbed against them and her back was stiff from trying to balance on her steed as they cantered along.
By the time a glimmer of morning was breaking across the horizon, she had lost all sense of how far they had come. They had long since left Wilefur behind, far enough that Erdhan would soon forget her as he got caught up in the fever of war along with his fellow Macobites. Orlla told herself that it was for the best, but she was sorely missing his affable demeanor now that she was alone with the surly Kingsmen.
“We’ll break for a bit and rest the animals before we ride on,” Arnulf said, interrupting her thoughts as he led her horse down a sloped bank to a small shaded stream. He reached up and lifted her down with surprising gentleness. She met his eyes and for a moment she thought something akin to sympathy flickered through them, but then he blinked it away as if ashamed he had let her see past his gruff exterior.
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to untie me for a few minutes while I seek some privacy to relieve myself,” she said.
Arnulf grunted in answer, undoing her hands without meeting her eyes.
Orlla retreated behind some nearby bushes, only too aware that the Kingsmen were watching her, albeit discreetly, poised to give chase in the event she attempted to flee. When she returned, Horace handed her some jerky and a waterskin and pointed to a fallen log. “Sit and eat. This is the last food you’ll get until we reach Lichtenburg tonight.”
Tonight! The sensation of her blood rushing from her head left her faint. She had less time than she’d anticipated to figure out how t
o escape from the Kingsmen. There would be no hope of taking flight once they reached Lichtenburg and she was in the custody of the court.
All too soon, they were back on the road, Orlla’s hands bound firmly in front of her once again. No time at all passed before they heard the unmistakable sound of voices heading their way. Horace jerked his chin in Arnulf’s direction. “Could be soldiers—no telling whose side they’re on. Best clear off the road.”
They gathered the horses in a small dell a short distance from the road and watched in silence as a party of four foot-soldiers wearing helms and breastplates drew closer, one armed with a crossbow, the others with longswords.
“Kingsmen,” Arnulf said in a relieved tone. “That’s Hamend’s crest on their helms.” He turned to Orlla. “Unluckily for you they won’t be saving your traitorous hide.”
“I’ll hail them.” Horace raised an arm in greeting as he trotted back out on the road and yelled, “At your service. Long live King Hamend!”
“Well met!” a voice boomed back. Orlla and Arnulf watched from behind the cover of the trees as Horace approached the soldiers on horseback. He had almost drawn level with them when his body twitched violently in the saddle. Seconds later, he fell to the road in a crumpled heap, an arrow sticking out of his chest.
Orlla gasped, shock ricocheting through her. Arnulf put a thick finger to his lips and quietly unsheathed his dagger. The soldiers descended on Horace searching through his clothes for his purse, unbuckling his scabbard and dagger. When they were done rifling through his saddlebags, two of the soldiers grabbed him by the legs and dragged him into the bushes.
“March on!” the soldier who had greeted Horace yelled as he swung himself up onto Horace’s steed. When the sound of the horse’s hooves finally faded into the distance, Arnulf resheathed his dagger, his face grim. “Brufus’s men. They must have attacked some of our troops and taken their armor.”
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
