by Diane Rapp
“No one takes over my kitchen! Their food stinks but I’ve been teaching them to eat proper. They’ll be ever so keen to eat your tarts. You sure this stuff won’t kill nobody?”
Maggie laughed. “The ones who eat my tarts will survive, getting no worse than a morning nap and headache, while the others will taste cold steel for breakfast.”
“Good enough. The sun’s near to rising, so let’s bake those tarts. The pastry dough is ready; I punched it down twice and rolled it flat. I’ve apples boiling in sugar and spices, ready for your special ingredients and the oven.”
Maggie opened her jar and poured the contents into a pot of hot liquid, careful to avoid the fumes. “Ladle the apple mixture into each pastry square and fold the dough over the top. Don’t touch the mixture with bare hands and wash up straight away, or you might join our sleeping friends.”
They worked quickly, popping sheets of tarts into the hot oven. The scent of cinnamon and apples filled the kitchen and drifted down the hall. Soon sleepy guards meandered into the dining hall, salivating at the prospect of bubbling hot pastries for breakfast.
*****
Garth got up early to organize Beltram’s clothes. He moved methodically, trying to restrain excitement.
“What’s this? It’s much too early for you to wake me,” Beltram complained when Garth opened the thick drapes around the bed. Garth’s lantern light flooded his eyes.
“You forget, sire. We view the prisoner with Jarrack this morning before breakfast. The guards say the early hour torments lazy nobles who hate to obey his whims.” Garth held a robe while Beltram struggled to heave an oversized body out of the featherbed.
“Jarrack delights in causing misery, but I admire the man’s stamina.” Beltram smirked and Garth hid his expression of disgust. “He promised me the small beauty with hazel eyes for my entertainment tonight. He claims she’s a wild one. I’ll enjoy taming her.”
“Yes, sire. I’ll prepare your room for a guest.” Garth clenched his teeth and tried to maintain a pleasant tone of voice.
“What’s wrong with you this morning?” Beltram eyed his valet. “Do you have a yen for the girl?”
Garth’s stomach knotted and he schooled his expression to appear neutral.
Beltram sneered. “Behave well and I might send her to your room after I’m finished.”
Garth turned away and prayed Beltram would not survive the day, let alone mishandle a young girl. “You shouldn’t keep Jarrack waiting.”
“Quite right.” Beltram patted his sweaty face with a silk hankie. “The chamber is too hot this morning.”
“I’ll speak to the furnace keeper, sire.” Garth held the door open and Beltram sidled through.
“Good boy.”
Garth fingered the dagger under his robe. He must accomplish the task Krystal assigned him. Beltram panted as he kept pace with Garth’s brisk stride. Mopping his face as they waited in Jarrack’s overheated audience hall, Beltram glared at the guards. They appeared cool and comfortable in the stifling heat.
“Those barbarians enjoy heat,” Beltram whispered to Garth. “We’ll suffocate if we wait much longer.”
Jarrack materialized at the doorway in time to hear the comment. “Not everyone lives in your frigid mountain climate.” He cast a critical glance at Beltram. “Did I keep you waiting?”
“Only briefly, sire.” Beltram blubbered, “I’m always at your service.”
“Yes and don’t forget it.” Jarrack snapped. “Shall we view the prisoner? Guard, send a messenger to the kitchen. My morning tea tasted vile. Have a fresh pot delivered to my chamber or the cook’s head will roll.”
The guard ran down the hall.
Beltram followed Jarrack’s swirling robes through the maze of corridors. Garth trailed behind. As they entered the tower holding Donovan’s prison, Garth noticed the position of all four guards.
“Open the viewing window!” Jarrack demanded.
“Yes, sire.” The hinge creaked as the window opened. Garth winced, hoping other hinges were kept oiled.
Jarrack gestured and Beltram stepped closer.
Jarrack said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Donovan. Notice that he stands frozen in exactly the same position…What’s this?” Jarrack glared at the guards. “Didn’t any of you dolts notice the prisoner has moved?” Jarrack slammed the window covering, but it bounced open again.
“You fools! I left explicit orders to be informed about any change in Donovan’s condition, no matter how insignificant. The idiots on this planet don’t understand how technology works! If the stasis field begins degrading…” Garth inched near to the open window, praying he’d complete his assignment while Jarrack ranted. “…you dolts have jeopardized my entire strategy.” The frightened guards cowered with their eyes fixed on their feet. “I’ll make you all wish you’d never been born if…”
Beltram asked, “Is the prisoner dangerous?” He fretted, twisting his hands until he noticed Jarrack’s dark expression. He stepped back and his robe brushed a torch. Fire licked Beltram’s clothes as he shrieked and beat the flames.
During the chaos Garth tossed the dagger through the open window. He saw the dagger hang motionless and shuddered at the potent magic of technology. Realizing Beltram flailed close to the window, Garth grabbed a flagon of water to douse the flames.
“Get out of here!” Jarrack bellowed.
Beltram scurried down the corridor. Garth followed the waddling figure at a sedate pace. “You must draw a hot bath upon returning to our chamber. I must rid myself of this stench and calm my nerves.” He turned and gasped.
Garth held a glistening knife to Beltram’s throat.
“I hereby end my service,” Garth said and slashed the rolls of fat at Beltram’s neck without flinching. “This is for the pain you inflicted on innocent young girls.” Beltram sank to the floor, blood oozing through his pudgy fingers. His cry for help turned into a gurgle.
Garth wiped the bloody blade across Beltram’s velvet tunic, a garment Garth meticulously cleaned for his master, and ran down the corridor to the statue of Venus. He knocked against the wood panel, two taps a pause and then three more taps. The panel slid open. Garth dashed into the safety of the secret chamber.
“Did you manage to toss the dagger inside Donovan’s chamber?” Krystal sounded worried.
“Yes. The weapon should fall at Donovan’s feet when he’s freed. I killed Beltram.” Garth shrugged as Krystal’s eyes widened. “I needed to free myself from an oath to that loathsome creature. Jarrack’s evil magic is potent. How do we release Donovan?”
Krystal recovered her composure. “It’s technology not magic. The stasis device is old and the battery pack deteriorates in a declining rate.” Noticing Garth’s expression of distress, she smiled. “Have faith, lad. We’ll dispel the magic when the time is right.”
Garth looked relieved. “What can I do to serve?”
“Go to the secret entrance at the end of this tunnel and direct incoming fighters to their stations. You’ve been invaluable, Garth. That window was well-guarded, and we couldn’t get close enough to deliver the weapon. We didn’t want Donovan to be helpless when he’s freed. The knife will fall at his feet and he can fight like a warrior.”
“May the gods shine upon us all,” Garth said. He bowed and scurried down the tunnel.
Krystal climbed up to her hidden niche. She gazed down at Donovan and realized he’d made significant progress toward the black box. It was almost within reach of his outstretched hand. Suddenly Jarrack’s face appeared in the open window below. Cold fingers of fear gripped her heart, and she ducked into the shadows.
*****
Jarrack glowered at Donovan, who moved through the stasis field by sheer willpower. He pounded his fist against the window frame. “You won’t beat me, Donovan!” His shout rang through the tower.
He turned to the nearest guard. “Post your best archers at this window. An arrow must be aimed at Donovan’s heart at all times. If he
touches that box, the archer must shoot to kill.” The guard scurried off to fetch an archer.
Jarrack shouted, “If he escapes from this tower alive, all your heads are forfeit!” His silk cape billowed as he tramped back to his quarters. A servant girl turned the corner and ran into him. The tray tumbled from her hands splattering tea, crockery, and fresh apple tarts across the floor. She scrambled to escape, but Jarrack’s hand whipped out like a snake and grabbed her.
Venting anger, he squeezed the slender young throat. The girl clawed feebly at his hand until her body slumped lifeless to the floor.
Jarrack wiped tea from his vest with a silk kerchief and sauntered down the hall, grinning. When the massive door to his quarters slammed shut, a servant slipped into the hall and wept over the girl’s body.
“Where’s my hot tea?” Jarrack bellowed.
“The servant girl should be here by now,” his valet whimpered. “The cook prepared a special treat this morning, apple tarts.”
Jarrack thought of the mess in the hall. “See to it yourself and forget the tarts. I don’t have an appetite for sweets this morning.”
*****
Marasuta’s troops waited for the signal. Farmers fidgeted with makeshift weapons and stood next to the Samurai, who practiced breathing techniques that insured a proper calm before battle. Marasuta knew his seasoned troops would perform as expected but worried about the newest recruits.
Had he been right to allow them to join such a short time ago?
The women trained with a zeal that amazed their teachers, but he worried that blood and carnage might unsettle them. Even the most robust men froze when facing their first real battle. Would women collapse into tears when their comrades fell under the sword?
He prayed that hardship steeled these women to the slaughter they’d face, but it was senseless to speculate. The die was cast. The outcome of today’s battle would be written by historians and sung by balladeers for centuries to come.
Movement in his peripheral vision turned out to be wolves filtering through the ranks. Until he met Kriegen, he thought of wolves as dangerous predators in the wild. Today they moved with the control and precision of trained soldiers, a valuable asset to his battle plan.
The world was changing too fast, a sign of getting old he assumed. He mentally shrugged the idea away. A good soldier adapted, and Marasuta was a very good soldier.
Tessa approached with Kriegen at her side. She said, “Krystal requests archers to enter the castle before the attack. Jarrack set an archer to fire at Donovan when the stasis field dissolves.”
She waited patiently as Marasuta quelled an urge to abandon his troops and personally guard the King. Danger to Donovan jeopardized the entire scheme. The general waged an internal battle and decided to delegate the task.
He said, “Tanya is the most skilled archer among the Samurai.” He waved in Tanya’s direction and the girl answered his summons.
“Krystal needs an expert archer to guard Donovan inside the castle.” Marasuta’s dark eyes flashed in the firelight. “Sneak into the castle with your best archers ahead of the attack. Personally guard our King. When he escapes captivity lead your troops to fight as planned.”
Tanya fidgeted with her bow and nodded.
Tessa said, “I must stay with the wolf army, but Kriegen will guide you to a secret entrance into the castle. Donovan’s life depends on the speed and accuracy of your bow.”
Marasuta watched Tanya’s troop follow Kriegen into the heart of the enemy’s fortress. “Kriegen will get them inside,” Tessa said. Marasuta nodded and turned to prevent himself from running after the brave women he ordered into grave danger.
*****
Dressed in leather breeches and tunic, Tanya palmed her unstrung bow and walked as though it were a shepherd’s staff. Close examination would surely reveal the weapon’s true nature, but Tanya counted on sleepy guards ignoring a harmless youth. She hid her arrows in long pockets stitched inside the back of her jacket and her hair was coiled into a snug cap.
The troop followed Kriegen, as singles or pairs, down a well-worn path used by locals. In the light of early dawn everyone appeared to be peasants walking to their morning duties. Tanya glanced at the castle walls and noticed guards staring down. Ambling in an easy swinging gait, she suddenly felt awkward.
Kriegen brushed against her leg and butted her hand with his head. His long tongue dangled like a dog as he nudged a stick with his nose. He wagged his tail and looked eager to chase the stick. Grinning, she threw the stick overhand. With a playful bark, Kriegen bounded away, grabbed the stick and disappeared over a mound.
She followed her “dog,” grateful to escape the guards’ scrutiny. Kriegen dropped the stick and waited until Tanya’s companions joined them a few minutes later. Using the mound as cover, they skirted the perimeter of the castle. Tanya crouched and followed the wolf. Her company silently mimicked her actions. It was slow going. The arrows hampered bending over but she didn’t have time to remove them.
At the sound of crunching footsteps, Kriegen halted. Tanya held her breath.
A drunken soldier stumbled along the top of the mound, sipping from a bottle as he returned to the castle. He saw Tanya. “Ho, who’s this?” he muttered in a slurred voice.
Before the soldier raised an alarm, Kriegen knocked him down and grabbed his throat. He raised his head and licked blood off his nose. Tanya flinched at the sight but followed the wolf without betraying her real distress. Kriegen squeezed through a hedge of flowering vines and waited at a solid-looking rock wall.
He scraped at the rocks and suddenly the wall swung open. A young man with dark hair and startling blue eyes smiled from the doorway. “Hello, I’m Justin. Krystal sent me to guide you through the tunnels.”
Kriegen melted back into the shrubbery as Tanya’s group entered the cool tunnel. Justin closed the rock door, plunging the tunnel into darkness.
“We can’t see,” Tanya muttered.
Justin opened the shutters of his lantern and flooded the tunnel with light. The distorted shadows gave his grin a ghoulish quality. “Krystal needs you straight away. Hurry!”
Justin dashed ahead, leading them up a steep stairway and through twisting corridors. He stopped, held a finger to his lips, and opened the door leading into an alcove. Krystal stood waiting as Tanya slipped into the space.
Krystal pointed at the opening. Tanya peered into a dimly lit tower and recognized the lethal tip of an arrow aimed at Donovan’s heart from the lowest part of the tower. Using hand signals, Tanya assigned defensive positions to her company. She assumed the crucial place at the window and assembled her bow and arrows. She cast Krystal a look that pledged Donovan would not die under her watch.
*****
Donovan focused on the stasis box and gathered energy to move forward. He strained to make infinitesimal progress, judging distance by the grouted tile lines at his feet. He felt Krystal’s mind nearby, but he couldn’t reach her. How long had it been since he’d seen her face, touched her skin?
He wanted to scream but knew the futile effort would sap his strength. It took time, energy, and all the strength he possessed, to move his body inch by inch through the stasis field. Forcing his mind into gear, he tried again.
Yes! I moved.
Lately it felt easier to move, but he didn’t know how much time elapsed between each attempt. Sometimes he sank into a gray void until his energy levels recharged. He wouldn’t let his focus waver today.
The box is close. If I stretch a little bit more, I might touch the switch and free myself. Gathering his strength he heaved his body through the invisible wall, forcing himself to move with his whole might. His arm weighed a thousand pounds and refused to budge.
Move, damn it, his mental voice chided. You can do it! Move your arm! The force field trembled and his arm moved. He felt jubilant. Soon I’ll be free to live my life again.
*****
Jarrack’s archer steadied his bow and aimed at the prisoner.
“I’m sure he moved,” the archer muttered. “He’s close enough to touch the box.” His muscle quivered with the tension of the taut bow. “Let me make it through this shift and someone else can be responsible if he escapes.” A drop of sweat oozed over the arch of his brow, but he didn’t dare wipe it. He must stay ready to let the arrow fly.
“Why wait? Shoot the arrow and tell Jarrack he broke free!” The guard at the door said.
“No. The arrow won’t penetrate the magic if I shoot too soon. It will hang suspended in air, and if he moves then, I’ve missed my mark. I’ll wait until he touches the button on top of that box.”
“So? Where’s he going if he does touch the box? The place is sealed like a tomb. No one can get in or out.”
“You sound confident for a man whose life hangs in the balance. If you allow Donovan to escape, Jarrack will mount your severed head from the gatepost.” The harsh voice of their commander interrupted the conversation. “This archer has the proper attitude. Carry on men. Don’t relax for one minute or all our heads will fly.”
*****
The shaft of Tanya’s arrow rested against the notch of her bow with the heel of her hand firm against the grip. Her forefinger curled loosely around the bow touching her thumb. She checked her target and adjusted the angle of her shot with the precision of an expert. It would be a clean shot without wind to alter the flight of the missile.
Her heart thudded as she recognized a razor-sharp hunter’s point aimed at Donovan’s heart. Little of her opponent was visible, a small patch of color that became her bull’s-eye. She usually shot targets in competition for a pretty trophy, but this was deadly serious.
Inhaling a deep breath, she nocked the arrow, keeping the gold cock feather perpendicular to the string. With a side glance, she signaled her readiness to Krystal and curled her string fingers over the taut wire. She’d fire at Krystal’s command and pray her arrow flew true.
