They cantered for the next few hours until they reached the junction to Wilefur. Erdhan slowed his horse to a trot. “There’s a vale on the other side of the highway well-shielded by trees, with a small stream nearby. We can hide there and wait for Lord Davian and Samten to go by.”
They dismounted and led their horses over the ridge and down into a sheltered hollow. “It will be tomorrow before we see them,” Orlla said.
Erdhan twisted his lips apologetically. “I would take you to The Leaky Cup where you would be more comfortable, but it isn’t safe. If anyone spots you and sends word to Hamend, or one of Brufus’s spies, you would be captured again, or worse.”
“This will suffice.” Orlla tethered her horse and sank down in a bed of leaves. “The straw pallets at the inn are a sight more disagreeable than this, and I don’t care for the belching and bawdy ditties of tavern patrons. Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to talk now, and I need some answers.”
Erdhan flopped down beside her and pulled out a waterskin. “Sounds like I’d better wet my parched throat before we begin.” He took a large draught and offered it to Orlla.
She gulped down a few mouthfuls and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “How did you know I was in the camp?”
“I followed you when you left the forest. After your audience with King Hamend, I cornered Arnulf and made him tell me where they were taking you.”
Orlla’s expression softened. “Why are you helping me? You owe me nothing.”
Erdhan threw her a sidelong glance, a mischievous twinkle in his vivid blue eyes. “All of Wilefur believes you to be my intended, thanks to Lydya’s flapping lips. What kind of a man sees his betrothed carried off by enemy soldiers and doesn’t ride in to defend her honor?” He gave a grandiose wink. “I’m the town hero now. The scribes are penning an ode to me as we speak.”
Orlla laughed, although inside her heart drummed an unsettling beat at the realization that Erdhan had not forgotten her after all.
He leaned back on one shoulder, something sparking in his eyes as he held her in his gaze. “Does the hero get a reward?”
Orlla arched a teasing brow. “You fail to remember I carry no purse about me.”
Erdhan shrugged. “Coin is a good cure for an empty stomach. I seek a reward of the heart.”
She hesitated for only a moment. “Will this suffice?” she whispered, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek before quickly pulling away.
“That was more reward than I could have dreamed of.” Erdhan gave a contented sigh. “I had no idea you wanted me so badly.”
Orlla swatted him playfully with a twig. “I’m still not sure I even like you, or your blithe manner.”
“And yet you deign to dally with a humble knife-juggler from Wilefur.” Erdhan held her gaze. “A little reckless for a responsible Keeper from Efyllsseum.”
She gave a tight smile. “Now that you know my secret, you must understand that all my life my actions have been bound by duty and obligation.”
Erdhan chewed on a stalk of rye grass before adding in a low, coaxing tone, “And still you keep a bigger secret from me. What did you tell the king?”
Orlla allowed a moment to pass before responding. “Some secrets destroy when they are brought to light. Others destroy when they are kept in the dark. I fear this one will do both.”
Erdhan drew his brows together, a glint of curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Time reveals all secrets, come what may.”
Orlla trained her gaze on the horizon. “It certainly does. And I have already traded my honor and loyalty for my brother’s life by telling King Hamend what Efyllsseum has kept from the mainland.” She turned to Erdhan, a wan smile on her lips. “There is nothing to be gained by hiding the Opal of Light any longer.”
Dawn broke with a gray grimace and a drizzling mist that left Orlla half frozen. Erdhan had been unnaturally subdued after her shocking revelation that the Opal of Light lay buried on Efyllsseum. She had given him some time alone to process the thoughts running through his head, knowing it would be difficult for him not to hold it against her that Franz, and so many others—including his dead wife—had suffered needlessly. She held nothing back, telling him all about her training at the Conservatory, and King Ferghell’s Protectors. Later, he had returned to their camp, and they had fallen asleep to the grumping of bullfrogs without bringing up the matter again.
When they rose, Erdhan gathered some sticks and set a fire. After Orlla warmed her ice-cold fingers sufficiently to move them, she fetched the bow Erdhan had offered her from his saddlebag. She ran a finger over the curved wood, clucking in disapproval at the lack of craftsmanship. “Let’s see if I can catch anything for breakfast with this unlucky contraption.”
Erdhan folded his arms in front of him and raised a brow. “Surely your skill will offset the defects in the bow.”
Orlla slung it over her shoulder and reached for the quiver. “Is that a challenge?”
He gave a half-smile. “Come and get me when you are prepared to admit defeat. My knife-throwing expertise will nab us a kill to sate our appetites in no time.”
Orlla snatched up a pinecone and tossed it at him but he ducked and rolled out of reach, chuckling. “Let’s hope you can shoot straighter than that!”
She moved into the dappled brushwood, greeted by the piqued chatter of squirrels at her sudden intrusion. Treading lightly, she pushed on amid a medley of tweets and screeches, her eyes searching for movement among the bushes. In no time at all, she was rewarded for her efforts when a large hare hopped out into a clearing up ahead. From behind the trunk of a large oak tree, she carefully nocked an arrow, adjusting her aim to compensate for the bow’s uneven curvature. Exhaling silently, she let the arrow fly, pinning the hare to the ground and killing it instantly. Her lips curved up in a satisfied smile. Whistling with elation that she had snagged a meal so quickly, she retrieved her kill and retraced her steps to the camp fire.
“I admit you’re quite the archer considering your rickety bow,” Erdhan remarked when she held up the hare. “I’ll lend you my finely-carved knife to gut it.”
She tossed the hare into his lap. “That’s your job for doubting me. Keep the entrails, we may need them.”
Erdhan choked on a cough. “Tell me they’re not a delicacy on Efyllsseum.”
Orlla rolled her eyes. “We will have need of some ploy to waylay Lord Davian and any accompanying Kingsmen.”
Erdhan flashed a knowing smile. “You mean for me to smear myself with rabbit innards and play the part of an injured Macobite.”
“I certainly can’t do it—Lord Davian would recognize me.”
Erdhan rumbled a laugh. “What role do you have in mind for me? Wounded warrior? Injured farmer? Hapless imbecile?”
“Who you impersonate is not nearly as important as who you claim attacked you.” Orlla frowned in concentration. “You must profess that you were set upon by Brufus’s men and that they made for Wilefur. If you can persuade the Kingsmen to pursue them, you and I will be able to overpower Lord Davian.”
“’Tis a bold plan, but I like it.” Erdhan reached for his knife just as the faint sound of voices drifted through the damp morning air.
Orlla and Erdhan exchanged alarmed looks. Together, they tip-toed over to the embankment and crouched down, peering through the brambles. Moments later, a cart loaded with barrels rumbled into view, pulled by a tired-looking nag. A weather-beaten farmer and his careworn wife sat up front, heavily bundled up against the cold.
Orlla let out a long, relieved breath. It was unlikely Lord Davian could have made it all the way to Lichtenburg and back so soon, but with fresh horses there was always a chance. She retreated to the fire with Erdhan and sank back down while he skinned and gutted the hare. When he was done, he speared the meat and hung it over a makeshift spit to cook, tossing the entrails into a pile off to the side.
After they had eaten their fill, they led the horses to the stream and watered them. Orlla rubbed her arms briskly t
o warm herself, stiffening at the distant pounding of hooves. “That could be Lord Davian this time,” she muttered.
They scrambled back up from the stream with the horses, and Erdhan handed his reins to Orlla. He pulled out his knife and hacked at the rabbit entrails, smearing the blood over his face and clothes before dashing to the edge of the road.
From the shelter of the hollow, Orlla held the horses’ reins steady, eyes glued to the road as the sound of riders grew louder. Her heart strained in her chest. Would Samten be among them? When the Kingsmen appeared in the distance, Erdhan stumbled out on the road and ran toward them, flailing his arms and hollering for help. The horses slowed to a stop in a cloud of dust a short distance from him, five in total, Lord Davian at the helm. Orlla’s skin prickled when she spotted Samten, head bowed and hands bound, seated on one of the other horses.
“Who goes there?” Lord Davian yelled to Erdhan.
“A poor Macobite robbed of his wares and left for dead. Help me, I pray thee, good sire!”
Lord Davian gestured to one of the three Kingsmen accompanying him. He trotted up to Erdhan, circled him once, then nodded. “He’s bleeding m’lord.”
Lord Davian urged his horse forward and inspected Erdhan with a look of bored unconcern. “Did you see the men who attacked you?”
“Brufus’s soldiers, sire!” Erdhan cried out in a shaky voice. He grabbed the bridle of Lord Davian’s horse and looked up at him with a pleading expression. “They’re headed for Wilefur. My family is there.”
The Kingsmen exchanged hard looks with one another. “How many?” one of them asked.
“Two,” Erdhan groaned like a man who had lost all hope.
“We can pursue them m’lord and cut them down before they reach town,” another Kingsman said.
“Very well,” Lord Davian replied, sounding aggrieved. “But make haste to catch us. I will proceed to the camp with the prisoner. The exchange must be made by midnight if we are to save the lives of our captured Kingsmen.”
Orlla grimaced as the three Kingsmen kicked their steeds into a gallop, bound for Wilefur. So that was the insidious lie Lord Davian had fed King Hamend to get his hands on Samten. He was leading the Kingsmen into a trap. But, he had left himself vulnerable without his escort, dismissing Erdhan as a badly-injured peasant. She held her breath as Erdhan slid a hand inside his bloodied jerkin and pulled out a throwing knife. He raised his hand partway, then hesitated, turning his head at the sound of more hooves thundering toward them. Orlla’s eyes widened in alarm as six additional Kingsmen rode into view. Erdhan hastily slipped his hand back inside his jerkin.
Lord Davian’s pockmarked face relaxed when the Kingsmen pulled up alongside him. “It’s about time.”
“Begging your pardon m’lord,” one of them said, inclining his head. “We stopped to offer assistance to an elderly farmer whose cart had become lodged in the mud.”
Lord Davian made an impatient gesture with a gloved hand. “The others are bound for Wilefur in pursuit of two Pegonian soldiers who attacked an unfortunate wretch.” He looked down his hawkish nose at Erdhan before turning back to the Kingsmen. “You will accompany me and the prisoner to the camp.”
“Yes, m’lord,” they chorused.
“Ride on!” Lord Davian hollered. He spurred his horse forward, without as much as a second look at Erdhan.
Once the dust from the collective clattering of hooves had settled, Orlla scrambled up the embankment, leading their horses out onto the road.
“There’s no point in pursuing them,” Erdhan said, grimly. “We can’t take on that many Kingsmen.”
Orlla handed him his horse’s reins. “We can’t fight Brufus’s soldiers either, so the only course left to us is to pretend to give them what they want—the light dragon stone.” She eyed the road ahead with grim determination. She had been so close to rescuing Samten, but he had slipped beyond her reach again. Her only option was to return to Efyllsseum and find a way to bring the Opal of Light to the mainland herself. She would not relinquish it to any one monarch, but she needed it as bait.
With Akolom by her side, she stood some chance of success, but was he even alive anymore? She quashed the depressing thought and turned her attention back to Erdhan. “We should stay off the road. It will take us longer to reach the pass, but we can’t risk being spotted before we reach the Angladior mountains. We’ll head east to give Brufus’s camp a wide berth and avoid any patrols.”
Erdhan stared at her for a long moment. “You’re taking me to Efyllsseum?”
Orlla gave a curt nod. “I can’t guarantee your safety there, but at least we’ll be out of reach of Brufus’s army.”
“What about Samten?”
“They won’t kill him, yet. He’s the only leverage they’ve got to persuade me to bring them the Opal of Light.”
They rode without stopping for the next couple of hours, barely exchanging a word. By the time they reached the Angladior forest, Orlla was close to falling out of her saddle with fatigue. But her work was far from done. Once they were safely through the pass, she would have to fortify the veiling runes to make sure they couldn’t be followed. After that, she would head for the outpost to face whatever she found there.
To her relief, they made it as far as the runes without encountering any patrols from Brufus’s army. Erdhan looked around, a confused look on his face. “Where is this pass of which you speak? I see only dense brush and no apparent trails.”
Orlla muted a grin, relieved to see that the runes were still holding. It was a reassuring indication that Akolom was still alive. “The pass is here, only hidden from your eyes by the veiling runes. Stick close behind me.” She led the way into the tightly-packed undergrowth, urging her horse forward each time it shied back. Erdhan closed in behind her, muttering exclamations of disbelief as they passed unhindered through an apparent wall of tightly-woven thickets and vines.
Once they were through, Orlla fortified the entrance, and then led Erdhan along the trail that bordered the jagged mountains to the outpost. Before long, the lowly wooden cabin came into view. Orlla held up a hand to halt him. “If my mentor, Akolom, is alive, let me talk to him alone first. I will try and persuade him to help us. After that, I’ll break the news to him that I have brought a mainlander with me.”
“And if he is dead?” Erdhan pressed. “What if the Protectors are waiting for you inside?”
“If they arrest me, then I will be forced to make my case without the Keepers’ assistance. There is still a chance King Ferghell will listen to me.”
Erdhan threw her a disgruntled look. “If the Protectors arrest you, I won’t sit back and let them take you to Efyllsseum to be tried for treason.”
Orlla dismounted and handed the reins to Erdhan. “Do nothing rash. Wait here until I return.” She ran a critical eye over him. “There’s a stream nearby. You should wash that blood off your face.”
She bent into a crouch as she approached the cabin, padding softly over the forest litter, while shooting glances in all directions at her shadowy surroundings. The Protectors’ horses were gone so it was unlikely Khor and Daglin were nearby. When she reached the cabin, she put her eye to a crack in the wooden shutters over the solitary window. A tallow candle flickered on the table, but the chairs were empty. Angling her neck, she peered awkwardly around the rest of the room.
Her heart jolted at the sight of a figure slumped against the back wall shackled to a ball and chain.
Chapter 21
Even in the dim light of the guttering candle, Orlla could tell from the sweeping mustache and beard resting on the man’s chest that it was Akolom in irons. He wasn’t moving, but from her limited perspective through the crack in the shutters, it was impossible to tell if he was dead or sleeping. Her stomach twisted with rage at the thought of the Protectors harming him, or possibly leaving him to starve to death.
Another perturbing thought pushed its way to the forefront of her mind as she glanced around furtively, searching the shad
owy trees encircling her like sentries. Was this a trap? Were Khor and Daglin hiding out there somewhere, waiting on her to enter the cabin? In silence, she edged toward the door, listening between each footfall for any indication she was being stalked. Akolom needed her. She would just have to trust that Erdhan had her back if the Protectors showed up.
With a beat of apprehension, she reached for the latch and pushed against the door until it creaked open. Akolom looked up at the sound, his eyes like sunken craters, forehead rippling in confusion.
Orlla let out a rushing breath. “Akolom! It’s me,” she whispered, padding across the room to him.
Comprehension dawned in his face. “You’re alive!” he rasped, reaching for her fingers with his shackled hands. “Khor and Daglin are searching for you. They suspect I know where you are hiding.”
Orlla squeezed Akolom’s cold, leathered hands. “Have they sent word to King Ferghell that I am missing?”
“Not yet. They were tasked with guarding you upon pain of death. They fear for their own lives.” Akolom frowned and directed a worried glance at the cabin door. “You must leave before they return.”
“Not without you. I’ll find a mallet and chisel in the workshop.”
He shook his head. “You can’t free me, or they will know you were here. Did you find Samten?”
Orlla gave a despondent nod. “He has been captured by Brufus’s soldiers. They know about Efyllsseum and the Opal of Light. If I don’t bring it to the mainland, Samten will die, and Brufus and Hamend will bring war to our kingdom.”
A look of deep sorrow passed over Akolom’s face. “We have long warned King Ferghell of the dangers of keeping the light dragon stone hidden on Efyllsseum.”
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 18
