Somewhere a falcon screamed. I jerked my gaze upward before remembering it was Faxon’s signal and started running for him. Cold air burned in my lungs; my legs and sore spots ached. Did I mention my wet skirts weighed hundreds of pounds?
“Hurry! Hurry!” Faxon urged. When I reached him, his strong fingers closed around my wrist. Then he was off, practically dragging me behind him. I grabbed as much soggy cloth as I could and scrambled to keep up.
Faxon might not have stopped until we reached Castle Autumnstead, had we not come upon another such clearing, this one much larger than the first. Well before it, we stumbled to a stop.
The soldiers here were so numerous, they hadn’t bothered to hide their presence. Fires burned bright with tempting warmth I fancied I could feel despite how far back we were. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, as did laughter, roared conversations, the clink of mugs. “What now?”
“Are you quizzing me?” Faxon demanded with surprising vehemence.
“No! Geez, Faxon, I was just asking!”
“I apologize, Leah. The nights have been long.”
No kidding, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
“Let us rest and eat what we can. Then I will scout ahead and see if there is any other way.”
Our stop proved anything but restful. We spent most of it gazing helplessly at one another and flinching at every sound.
“I will return,” Faxon said after only a short time. He slipped away, his steps weary and slow. I knew that like me, he wanted this night to end.
Alone again in the dark, I waited for his return. I had a bad feeling that Latule’s soldiers had blocked our way, that Faxon only investigated out of desperate hope. And to think that barely a week before, I had slept safely behind a locked door! If only Faxon and I might do so now. It would do wonders to restore us.
We might. In Latule’s prison. No! I couldn’t think that way!
Nearby, something crunched. I drew in a sharp breath and looked around. Nothing stirred in the shadows; the soldiers’ fire gave plenty of light to see by.
Crunch. Crunch. Other sounds followed, a snapping, slobbery, chewing sound. Had the cold not numbed all feeling out of my skin, I’m sure I would have felt my every hair standing at attention.
A male figure, previously invisible, stepped out of the trees, as though he’d been melded to the trunks.
I shot to my feet faster than I thought possible, given how tired and hungry I felt. In a blind panic, I headed straight for the Latule camp. Luckily, I crashed right into Faxon as he was returning. We landed in a heap on the ground. At the sight of the approaching figure, Faxon shoved me aside and pointed his sword at him.
“Is this any way to treat an old friend of the Arencasters?” The newcomer’s eyes blazed like blue fire.
“Just what man makes this claim?” Faxon demanded.
So his arrogance was good for something, I thought.
“As sure as the night is perilous and bitter cold, Reldion le Valen is my name.” The speaker stepped into the faint trail of light that reached us and bowed with sweeping, dramatic mockery. Halfway through rising, he took a bite of his apple. It wasn’t until then that I recognized him as the Wagoner from Fiona’s homecoming.
“You!” I gasped unintentionally.
“And whom do I honor with the utterance of my name?” the fire-haired man said.
I had the uncanny feeling he wasn’t asking because he didn’t know.
“I am Faxon.”
“How nice to meet you, Faxon,” the Wagoner said with a wry smile. “And who is your companion?” As at the banquet, Reldion’s eyes burned into me, stripping away every layer of pretense.
When Faxon hesitated to speak, Reldion chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. “If I am not mistaken, and I rarely am, this must be Princess Fiona, returned from the Tower of Valeriya in time for the war.” His smile at me showed every pointy tooth. “I must thank you, Princess, for a fine finale to your homecoming. My people could not have done better with fireworks.”
And Reldion had a steel trap memory. Great.
“Why are you alone in these woods?” Faxon asked.
Reldion took an exaggerated bite of apple. “I am in the information trade this winter due to this war. Ultimately I am in the service of the Arencasters. It doesn’t stop me from helping myself to the Latules’ stores.” He licked his fingers and tossed the core into the bushes.
“Even a man of your bravado would not be so foolish as that for no reason,” Faxon said, crossing his arms. “Latule has blocked your way back to Castle Autumnstead too, haven’t they?”
“They are inconveniently placed,” Reldion admitted. “Suppose we work together to break through?”
“Two swords are better than one,” Faxon said.
“Faxon, no! You’ve already been hurt on my account. I can’t let you be killed!” I said.
“And what alternative do you propose? Freezing to death? You’ll make a lovely statue, my dear.” Reldion’s leer showed every point in his teeth. “Or you can starve. If the godlike fingers of Reldion le Valen cannot steal meat from Latule’s fires, what hope do you mere mortals have? Stolen fruit will only remind you of your hunger.”
I swallowed. The apple core he’d tossed away seemed like a feast.
“If we stay here too long, Latule must find us,” Faxon reasoned. “Autumnstead Village is so near; it’s our best chance.”
“Then we fight together!” Reldion declared.
“Not before we have a plan,” Faxon said.
Reldion fairly danced with impatience. “What is there to plan? We charge through! We kill all in our path! We keep running!”
“We must protect the princess and keep her from harm and capture.”
I felt touched by Faxon’s concern for my safety. Then again, it wouldn’t be good for Arencaster if Fiona were captured. Latule might try to use the princess to bargain for their surrender. Maybe it wasn’t as personal as I thought.
After some debate and Reldion’s raised voice (which Faxon hurried to shush), they agreed to have Reldion lead the charge and clear our path. Faxon would guard my back, and probably my sides as well.
“It is a simple plan,” Faxon said, reluctantly approving. “Though many unforeseen problems may arise as we attempt it.”
“You forget we are both limited and desperate,” Reldion said. “Keep your wits sharp and your sword drawn, and Fortune may see us through.”
Before we left the cover of the trees, Reldion described the camp for Faxon. Apparently he’d been trapped for some time and had sneaked among the Latules to steal what food he could. Faxon repeated the layout several times. Reldion nodded his approval and tossed one of his many daggers to me.
“Give them something to remember if they try to take you,” he said.
Faxon gave the Wagoner a sharp glance, a sign I was starting to see meant he was nervous. “We shall cling to stealth as long as we can. Please leave the fighting to us.” Faxon said by way of final advice to me.
As agreed, Reldion left the trees first. Though he walked into the firelight, he always seemed to find a shadow to slip into or something to hide behind. Officially I was following Reldion, though glimpses of his red hair as he darted from place to place were all I had to guide me.
Faxon possessed similar skill in stealth, with the end result that at any given time, I could look ahead and behind and not see either of them.
It made me nervous to say the least. Between my dress and my bruises from the fall, I felt utterly clumsy. My arms were just too tired to carry my wet skirts any farther, so I let the fabric drag. Meanwhile, Faxon and Reldion flitted effortlessly from shadow to shadow, probably without leaving footprints.
Every second, every step counted, I reminded myself as we crept behind the line of tents. Every sound and shadow made me flinch. Despite knowing it had only been a few minutes, it felt like we’d been in the Latule camp the whole night. I tried to imitate Reldion, hiding in spots he’d just left, but I cou
ld never quite flatten myself enough to blend in or fit in the narrow space. There must be something more to his technique, I thought.
As I crouched behind a wagon loaded with provisions, two men in brown cloaks approached from the dark side of the camp. There was nowhere to run except to the campfire, where at least ten enemies were gathered. I decided on the lesser of the two evils: staying put.
“Who are you? What business do you have here?” one soldier inevitably growled when he encountered me.
I backed away, my hands uselessly in front of me instead of going to my belt where Reldion’s knife was lodged.
The other soldier drew his sword. “Ask her to explain her weapon! Are you a spy? Thief? Answer me!” He came so close to me, I could smell the garlic and onions on his breath. Steel pressed against my neck, so cold it burned.
No words would form in my throat, which had closed as tight as though someone were crushing it.
From above, a dark shape leaped, tackling my assailant to the ground. The two grappled in the snow until one lay still. Out of the shadows stepped —
“Faxon!” I breathed in stunned relief.
“Trespassers!” the remaining soldier roared.
“Damn!” Faxon hissed. He started for the soldier but not before the Latule’s horn rang out to his fellows. Faxon’s sword struck, silencing his opponent’s call for help. With a gurgling gasp, the man dropped to his knees. Red sprayed the snow. My stomach lurched, and I started to cover my eyes like this were a scary movie.
Voices rose nearby, their volume increasing as they neared.
“What are you doing, you fool?” Faxon pried my hands away from my eyes. “Run!” His slender fingers closed around my wrist like a vice, and he dragged me after him.
“Well done, Faxon,” Reldion said as we caught up to him. “If we had any chance at mercy, it’s gone now.”
“Be silent, Wagoner!” Faxon retorted. “You must know the penalty for theft in Latule.”
“We are not in Latule!”
“Those were Latule apples you were munching on, and who knows what else.”
That shut Reldion up. Personally, I didn’t know how Reldion and Faxon had the wind for their exchange. My breath came in painful wheezes, and my side burned like fire. (Okay, maybe Faxon and Reldion were able to talk because I was slowing them down.)
“How much farther?” I just managed to gasp out.
“We’re so close!” A dagger flashed into Reldion’s hand. “We need only break through the line of soldiers at the end of the clearing! Autumnstead Village is just ahead!”
His words gave me the strength to move through the pain.
Lifted spirits notwithstanding, I fell behind Reldion and Faxon. The latter had sped up to get ahead of me, moving so fast, for one terrified moment I feared he meant to leave me behind. It wasn’t until the Latule soldiers came to meet us that I realized they had gone ahead to meet our enemy and protect me.
Reldion’s single dagger had become a group of five, fanned out in his hand. They whipped through the air so rapidly I couldn’t follow their path until they buried themselves in various vital areas the Latules’ armor couldn’t protect.
While Reldion paused to free his next weapon in his considerable arsenal, Faxon leaped ahead into the fight, his sword drawn. Steel rang out on steel, and sparks flew through the air alongside snow. Somehow Faxon held his own against two, sometimes three opponents. Unfortunately, they just kept coming, and Reldion showed no sign of helping. (In his defense, he was just as busy with opponents as Faxon.) While Faxon dealt with his foes, yet another one slipped behind him.
“Faxon!” I gasped, just in time for him to dance away from a sword between his shoulder blades. The blade slashed where his arm bent, peeling away fabric and skin.
Faxon clutched his arm in momentary pain, then continued fighting with renewed vigor. Still, pain dulled the edge of his usually deadly precision. Even I could perceive that.
I couldn’t just stand there wringing my hands. I had Reldion’s dagger, but the thought of using it made my head swim and my hands shake. I was more comfortable with my hated elements. That gave me an idea. I squatted down in the snow and put together the biggest snowball I could manage.
“Hey you!” I shouted (in the most unintimidating voice ever). I let the snowball fly, then commanded the cold air to gather to it. I’d only meant to make the snowball bigger. It swelled in size all right, but also in density. By the time it hit my target, it had become a boulder of solid ice. He toppled over without a sound. The former snowball shook the ground with its landing.
Oh God! The side of the soldier’s head was all smashed up. Faxon’s adversaries stopped and stared in stunned horror, which gave the slender swordsman just long enough to end them.
“Faxon! Are you alright?”
“It is not serious,” Faxon said, his grimace betraying his pain.
“Get ready,” Reldion said as he rejoined us. Instead of a weapon this time, he had what looked like three colorful toy balls in his hands.
“Smoke bombs,” Faxon just had time to say before Reldion flung them to the ground and crushed them underfoot.
“Run!” the Wagoner roared. Fuchsia, blue, and yellow smoke billowed from the ground, obscured the Latules from view.
And we were off…again! I wondered if I had lost weight since leaving the Tower. This is the last stretch, I kept telling myself to keep my leaden legs moving.
Ahead, torches glimmered, little flames of hope that though visible, still seemed so far away. Squinting, I tried to make sense of the different patterns of darkness before me. It wasn’t until Reldion and Faxon changed direction that I realized…
“When was a wall built around the village?” I wasted precious breath to gasp out.
“When Latule declared war, the queen ordered it put up in haste.” Faxon barely sounded as if he were breathing hard.
“How do we get in?”
“There is a door,” Faxon said vaguely. “It’s just a matter of finding it.”
Fortunately for Faxon, I had no more air to spare on speaking. If I had, I would have been shouting about how we were going to die and how in the hell didn’t he know where the entrance was.
As our desperate sprint slowed to a lope, my exasperated words died in my throat. Faxon and Reldion were hunting in earnest for this door, which, in all likelihood, neither had seen before. Could they be sure it really existed? I moved some distance away from them and began searching for the door myself. It wouldn’t be long before Reldion’s smoke bombs dissipated and what remained of the Latule camp came after us, eager to avenge their comrades’ deaths.
The wall, I discovered, was built from various materials, some parts consisting of stones and bricks and others of rough-hewn poles lashed together, like a giant fence to keep out animals. I guessed Autumnstead had pooled its resources and worked desperately to throw it up. Despite the inconsistency in construction, one thing remained constant: the elusive nature of the one door. Some distance away, my companions investigated by the light of those marble-sized orbs Faxon had summoned before. Their shoulders were hunched, their heads bent to their purpose, but ultimately they showed no sign of success.
From the woods behind us, I heard shouts and the tramp of many feet. I glanced behind me. Disembodied torches were drawing closer with each second. I estimated five minutes at the most before Latule overtook us.
“Help!” I screamed to the walkway above. A head peered out from the makeshift parapets.
“Who goes there?” A voice, gravelly from sleep, demanded.
“Princess Fiona and her protectors!” I called. I was willing to say anything, if only we could escape. “Where is the door?”
The guard on the wall said nothing. Clenching my fists, I started to run toward Faxon and Reldion.
“Princess!” the voice on the wall called. In the light of his torch, a hand waved. “Follow me!”
Chapter Thirteen
The Door
Again
I was running, pursuing the bobbing light.
“Leah! What’s going on?” Faxon said as I passed by.
“The door! Follow that torch!”
The three of us assumed the formation we had in the woods: Reldion in front, myself in the middle, and Faxon at the rear. Though I didn’t look back, I knew Latule was getting closer. Their voices, indistinct before, now formed intelligible words. The soldiers wanted blood, both for the fallen and to redeem themselves in the eyes of their Lady, a title which, I had no doubt, meant Lady Lavinia Latule.
We did not have far to go before the torch on the wall stopped.
“Here!” the voice said. “I will unlock it.”
We waited, looking in desperation from the door to the way we had come, the way Latule now followed. Had I been more skilled with elements, I might have swept our path away with a wind, but I could not risk destroying the Autumnstead wall. As the sounds came closer, Reldion’s eyes narrowed. I imagined he was considering what weapon from his personal arsenal he wanted to exercise next. Faxon’s hand rested on his sword hilt. In his face, I saw weariness and fear that though we were on the doorstep of safety, we still might not make it.
“We’ll be alright, Faxon,” I whispered.
Faxon made such a slight nod in response, I almost wondered if he’d heard at all.
On the other side of the wall, I heard footsteps, the clank of keys. Faxon, Reldion, and I looked at one another hopefully.
Then I heard a chair or stool scrape back. “What are you doing, you fool? This door is to remain shut, by order of the queen!”
“But Roderick! The Princess is out there!”
“Balthas, you sot! Is this another of your drunken dreams?” A slot in the door at eye level drew back. Two eyes with bushy black brows regarded us with squinting suspicion. I almost expected him to say something like “What’s the password?”
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