by T. Norman
“All I know is that we were here to capture some girl. I swear that’s all I was told.”
“How did you know which girl you were supposed to capture?” Rysh heard a clink and looked over his shoulder to see Bors pulling a dark bottle out of a box. Rysh turned back to Nor. “Well?”
“Blonde!” Nor shrieked as he felt the cold blade push harder against his neck. “They told us she was about fifteen and blonde!”
Julia. “What’s so special about this girl?”
“I don’t know, but the orders came directly from King Stowen.” At the mention of King Stowen, Rysh heard Bors spit out the liquor he was drinking.
“Who’s your leader?” Rysh needed more answers.
“Captain Sharpe of Vendos.” Nor replied, scared for his life.
“How many citizens are you holding?”
“I . . . I don’t know, twenty maybe? They’re in the town square! You’re going to want to hurry. Captain Sharpe sent us to bring liquor to start a fire, and he means to burn down the city.”
Rysh looked horrified. “Bors, we have to help them!”
“What about the medical supplies for Gayle? We can’t forget about him.” Bors slurred his words slightly; Rysh looked at the bottle in his hand and saw that it was already half empty.
“You get the supplies, I’ll get the survivors.” Rysh couldn’t give up on his friends, not as long as they had a chance. Wait, if he means to burn down the city, how does he know Julia isn’t still inside somewhere? Rysh knew immediately they had been deceived. As he went to look down, a bottle flew up and nearly broke against his face, the liquid from within burning his eyes. He staggered back, trying to wipe his eyes to clear his vision. He heard a grunt and a thud as a body fell limp to the ground.
As Rysh regained his sight he saw Bors standing over Nor’s body with a dagger in hand; Nor was bleeding from his belly.
“Thanks,” Rysh said half-heartedly. “Where’d you get the dagger?”
“My belt.” Bors gave Rysh a crooked smile that made Rysh wary.
“Let’s get moving, I’m guessing we don’t have much time.” The two silently made their way upstairs. From the main floor of the tavern, they could see a glow through the windows. “It looks like he wasn’t lying.”
They rushed to the window to see the scene of horror outside. A group of armed soldiers stood in a crowd with torches in hand. Across from them was Lord Briar’s tower, with dry wood stacked six feet high against its base. Rysh could hear the screams coming from inside the building. They’ve locked them in the tower. Rysh made to charge out the door, but Bors grabbed his arm before he could move any further.
“It’s too late for them. If you go out there, you will be killed.” The slurs that were evident earlier in Bors’s voice were completely gone. He sounded stern and powerful. “Think of your son. Think of Julia.”
“I can’t just sit here while they are murdered!” Rysh was furious. He wanted revenge.
“There is no way to save them! If you want to be a leader, you must learn that sometimes you have to sacrifice a few for the greater good.” Bors seemed to be lost in a memory.
“What do you suggest, then?” Rysh dropped his arms, letting his shoulders go slack in defeat.
“Come upstairs. I must gather my things.” Bors turned on his heel and made his way up to the rooms. Bors’s room reeked of alcohol. There were clothes strewn all about and the bed was unkempt. Bors went to the back of the room and tapped on one of the floorboards until he heard a hollow sound. He reached down, stuck his dagger into a crack in the floor and pulled up the loose floorboard. Rysh watched, astonished, when Bors pulled out a long piece of hide.
“What is that?” This hidden, wrapped object confirmed Rysh’s suspicions.
“Something that we may need later.” Bors was trying to dodge the question. “In the closet there I have a pack with all the medicine we should need. There will be more downstairs behind the bar.”
“No.” Rysh had had enough of Bors’s secrets; it was time for an answer. “How did you know about the tunnel in the basement?”
“I’ve lived here for fourteen years. I got to know the building very well.” Bors gave Rysh a stern glare.
“And where did you learn to scout a campsite?”
“Before I came to this land, I spent many days traveling and camping in the woods.” Bors made a move to grab his bag from the closet but Rysh stopped him.
“I’m not done yet. Where did you learn to fight? Why were you surprised when that soldier mentioned King Stowen? And what is in that wrapping?” Rysh was angry. I’m not letting this man near my son again until I get the truth.
“You won’t give up on this, will you?” Bors set the wrapping on the bed and unfolded it, revealing boiled leather armor emblazoned with a sun and an emerald cloak with the same symbol.
“Where have I seen that emblem before?”
“It’s the royal banner of Dusseldorf.” Bors moved the cloak to reveal the short sword hidden beneath it. He lifted the sheath and removed the sword. It shone with great beauty, and Rysh knew immediately that this was no ordinary sword. He could see on the hilt a small design woven into the base.
“Where was that made? I’ve never seen any craftsmanship like it.”
“Ellsdorf,” Bors replied solemnly.
With a sudden realization, Rysh made to draw his sword, but Bors had his at Rysh’s neck before he could get his hand on the hilt.
“You don’t want to do that.” Bors held his sword steady, and by the look in his eyes, Rysh knew Bors wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. He moved his hand away from the hilt. “That’s better. I’m going to lower my sword. Please don’t try that again, or I will kill you.” Rysh had never seen that look in Bors’s eyes. He nodded, and Bors lowered his sword to his side.
“Who are you?” Rysh was more confused than ever.
“I suppose it’s time to answer your questions. First let me explain why these men attacked the city.”
Rysh’s face showed what he was thinking: you know why they attacked but didn’t say anything!
“Yes, I know why they attacked,” Bors said, “now let me explain. You know of the battle of the Skirling Pass, correct?”
“Of course, it’s a famous story.”
“Yes, it is. It is also common knowledge that Queen Anna Rawson died giving birth to a baby girl. What isn’t known is that her daughter survived.”
“Why would they attack Wayton in search of this supposed princess?” Rysh couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that the princess of Dusseldorf had been living in Wayton? The realization dawned on Rysh as he spoke. “Please, tell me the man was lying. Tell me it isn’t Julia.”
Bors shook his head. “She was entrusted into Lord Briar’s care fourteen years ago.” Rysh could see Bors’s sorrow.
“What does this mean? What do we do?” Rysh shook his head in disbelief.
“We need to take her to Dusseldorf, before King Stowen’s men find her.” Bors wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and clipped his sword and sheath around his belt. In that moment, he transformed from a drunken slob into a soldier.
“You never explained to me how you know all this.” Rysh knew there was more Bors was hiding. “And why I should trust you?”
“I haven’t killed you yet, isn’t that reason enough to trust me?”
Rysh didn’t waver.
“Fine. The reason I know all of this, and the reason I have a Dusseldorf sword and a Dusseldorf cloak is because that is where I’m from, but I’m sure you guessed that already. So what is it you’re looking for?”
“Why should I trust you?” Rysh slowly moved his hand back to the hilt of his sword.
“I brought Julia here fourteen years ago, and I have been watching over her ever since.”
Rysh had one final question. “Who are you?”
“My name is Lord Alric Renulf, General of the Emerald Knights, Chair of High Council, Advisor to the Throne, and it is my sworn duty to the royal
family of Dusseldorf to protect Princess Julia Rawson with my life.” Alric straightened his back as he spoke. “That is why you should trust me.”
4
“So what do we do about the townspeople?” Rysh still had doubts about trusting Alric. “We can’t just leave them behind.”
Alric nodded, scratching his beard. “I agree, but we also need to get this medicine back as fast as possible, for Gayle’s sake.” Rysh marveled at how different Alric seemed now. The man wore small pieces of boiled leather, so as to not draw too much attention. His short sword’s scabbard was kept hidden below his worn brown cloak. His emerald cloak was packed away again in a rucksack, as wearing the colors of Dusseldorf wouldn’t be wise in the middle of Ansaroth. “I don’t know if there is anything we can do. If we try and save them we risk getting killed, leaving Julia improperly protected. However, if we leave now, the blood of many innocent people will be on our hands.”
No matter what we choose, we lose. “And there’s no way to do both with only two of us, is there?”
“I’m afraid not.” Alric shook his head. “Rysh, there’s no other solution. We have to get back to the others. If there were any way to save them without risking ourselves, we would, but we simply can’t.”
“I know.” Rysh averted his eyes to hide the frustration burning in them. “Let’s get moving, then.”
Gant woke suddenly, sweating from a nightmare. He looked around camp. The coals burning low and the moonlight allowed him to barely make out the three sleeping bodies of his friends around camp. He rose slowly to avoid waking the others. As he got to his feet he stretched his arms and back, picked up his bow and quiver, slung them over his shoulder, and made his way to where Mic was keeping watch. He felt a pang of guilt as he walked by Gayle. I’m sorry this happened to you. It’s entirely my fault; I wanted to go back, he thought. He found his way to the edge of the small camp and saw Mic huddled up against a tree trunk facing Wayton.
“Can’t sleep?” Mic asked as Gant sat down next to him.
“I had a bad dream.” Gant responded. He had always liked Mic, who was willing to get him out of trouble without tattling to Rysh. “See anything?”
Mic shook his head. “No, but an hour ago I heard a group on horseback riding south. They were moving fast.”
“Why is this happening?”
Mic gave a small laugh. Mic knew Gant was a very curious young lad and was never afraid to ask a question, or ten.
“I’m not sure. They were definitely after something, but I don’t know what.” Mic stared straight ahead into the night. Gant noticed the detail in the man’s face. His jaw and neck were well defined, and the scars on his face were visible in the moonlight.
Gant shot his head to the left. “Did you hear that?”
“No, what . . .” Gant held up a hand to silence Mic. Gant raised himself to a crouch, drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on his bow. Mic followed suit, lifting his hammer into a ready position. The two sat in silence, waiting for another sound. Mic heard a rustle in Gant’s line of sight. A shadow lurked low out of the bushes ten yards from where they kept watch. It blended in with the darkness and slunk toward Mic and Gant. Gant relaxed and replaced the arrow in his quiver.
“Come here, girl.” Gant whistled toward the shadow. Out of the darkness emerged a medium-sized dark brown dog with light brown and white spots. She crawled toward the two men.
“How do you know it’s a girl?” Mic was impressed with the boy.
“You can’t tell?” Gant cocked his head as he addressed Mic casually. “The ears are longer on a female and they also have a shorter snout.”
Mic gave Gant a look of disbelief.
Gant gave another whistle and the dog came running up to meet Gant. He scratched the dog as it licked at him joyfully. “I’ve seen her around Wayton before. I think she belongs to one of the farmers.”
“You lied to me, didn’t you?” Mic wasn’t necessarily a stoic man. He enjoyed laughter, but he knew that he intimidated Gant so he decided to keep up the appearance of being tough as long as possible.
“I’m sorry, Mic, I just couldn’t resist.” Gant gave him a smile. “Her name is Ros.”
“Ros,” Mic mused. “I like that. Think your dad will let you keep her?”
Ros settled in with her head on Gant’s lap as the young man sat down to rejoin Mic on his watch.
“Did your dad teach you to hunt?” Mic broke the silence, curious about Gant’s skills.
“Yeah, he started taking me out when I was little. After I got old enough I started training in archery with Sam.” Gant was a modest young lad. He was not only advanced for his age as a hunter, but also as an archer. Mic had watched him many times practicing with his friend.
“Keep practicing, you might need those skills sooner rather than later.” Mic didn’t want to hide the truth from the boy.
The two spent some time talking about Mic’s work crafting swords and other weapons and also about Gant’s training with Sam before Gant finally drifted back to sleep.
Gant woke to wetness on his face. “Hi, Ros. What’s wrong, girl?” Gant sat up to see what had awoken the dog. The moon was no longer visible, but in the distance he could see a red glow emanating from Wayton. Gant listened closely, hearing a faint noise in the distance. He rose carefully to avoid waking Mic, who had fallen asleep on watch, and started making his way toward Wayton. The unidentifiable noise gradually became louder the closer he got to the town. Gant kept moving slowly and silently until he heard an ear-piercing sound, causing him to stop in his tracks.
“Gant, is that you?” Gant jumped at the words. He hadn’t even noticed Rysh and Bors walking out of the trees.
“Dad, what did you see in town?” Gant was afraid of the answer even as he asked the question.
“I’m sorry, son.” Rysh put his arm around Gant’s shoulder and directed him back to camp.
They walked in silence back to the others. The sounds of screams echoing behind them slowly faded away.
“Who’s your friend?” Rysh noticed the dog walking next to Gant.
“She wandered into camp earlier. Her name’s Ros.” At the sound of her name, the dog nipped at Gant’s hand. He scratched her head as she enthusiastically shook her tail. “I’ve seen her around town before. I think she belongs to one of the farmers. Gant hesitated as he realized that her owner was most likely dead. “Can I keep her?”
“I think you’re ready for that responsibility.” Rysh knelt down and whistled for the dog to come over. “Besides, it looks like she could use a friend.”
As the three approached camp, Mic stood to greet them. “Good to see you made it back.” He gave Rysh a welcoming nod. “Your son has a knack for running off in the dark without telling me.” He turned and gave Gant a frightening stare.
“Unfortunately, he probably got that from me.” Rysh and Mic both forced a chuckle.
“Pardon me, but don’t you think we should be getting Gayle his medicine?” Bors had his drunken slur back, causing Rysh to cock an eyebrow in suspicion at the man.
“He’s right. Wake Lori, but let Julia sleep.” Rysh let Bors and Gant move into the camp. Mic stayed behind to continue his watch. “Get some sleep, I can take over for you,” Rysh told his friend.
“Don’t worry about me. You, on the other hand, look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
Rysh hadn’t had a moment of rest since the attack began, and he felt it. Dawn was around the corner, and he knew it made sense to build up as much energy as possible.
“I don’t want to disturb the others, so I’ll just camp out here.” Rysh sat down next to a tree, trying to relax. “Wayton is gone, everyone inside included,” he told Mic soberly. “We know they were after Julia; we caught one of their men on our way into town. He made a move, and Bors saved my life.” The shock was evident on Mic’s face.
“Bors the drunk saved your life? Well, I’ll be damned.” Mic shook his head in disbelief. “Did you find out why they’re after J
ulia?”
Rysh hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Yes, we did.” Rysh looked back toward camp. He could see Julia and Bors fast asleep. Lori and Gant sat next to Gayle, with Ros laying her head on Gant’s lap. Comfortable that they were all out of earshot, he continued. “For her safety, you need to give me your word that you will keep this to yourself.”
Mic turned to face Rysh, narrowing his eyes at him as he spoke. “You have my word.”
“Julia is not Lord Briar’s daughter. Her real name is Julia Rawson, Princess of Dusseldorf.”
“What makes you say that?” Mic asked doubtfully.
“The man we caught told us the story. I don’t know how much I believe it yet, but it makes sense.” Rysh didn’t know why he was neglecting to reveal Bors’s true identity, but something in him made him stop.
“So what are we going to do? If that’s true, she isn’t safe anywhere.” Rysh was unsure how Mic would handle the news of what they must do. He knew little of Mic’s past, but knew he was a loyal man, and it seemed his loyalty to his fellow townspeople outdid his loyalty for Ansaroth.
“It looks like the only place she will be safe is outside of Ansaroth.” Rysh didn’t like this idea. In fact, it made him nervous. All of Ansaroth’s Royal Army was against them, but there was no other way. “We are going to take her home, to Dusseldorf.”
5
Rysh woke with a chill. He stood up and stretched. He had only been asleep for a few hours, but the sun was already shining on the horizon. He looked west, where dark clouds had formed, and frowned. Dark clouds after a dark night. He started a small fire to make some coffee, then made his way to North Rush River, on the north side of the hill from their campsite. As he left the camp, Ros awoke and followed him.
“Good morning, girl. How did you sleep?” He gave the dog a pat on the head. Ros dropped her jaw and panted at his words. “Poor girl, when was the last time you had food?” This time she barked at his words, showing her excitement.
