by Jeff Wheeler
A shout of command was given and the archers drew back their arrows, kneeling in the trampled grass, elbows pulled back, fists by their cheeks. The order was given and a hail of arrows arced skyward before plummeting like daggers. Before the first volley had fallen, a second was launched.
Trynne felt the magic of the Fountain sweep through her as the arrows began to land in the grass all around her, sticking like quills on a porcupine. She gritted her teeth, hearing the screams and cries of horses stumbling and falling.
The throb of magic swelled in the air as a cloud of arrows hammered down at them. Then it dawned on her why she hadn’t heard any screams from the maidens. And it thrilled her to her core. One of the five oaths they had sworn was never to kill a man by spear or arrow—and in return, they would not be slain by one. The magic of the oaths they had taken had been extended to the Oath Maidens riding with her, forming a shield of sorts that was invisible but real. But it had not protected some of their steeds.
She was close enough to see the archers, close enough to see the fear bloom in their eyes when they realized their bolts hadn’t harmed a single maiden. Their discipline shattered, they tried to claw their way through the leaf-armored knights to escape the front lines of the battle. Trynne had a sword already in hand, the reins tight in her other, and watched as the archers abandoned their lines.
Trynne’s horse was in front, but she heard the thunder of her companions’ charge, felt them coming as a scythe to mow the wheat. She heard the tumult coming from the army behind them, the clatter she’d asked the king to make. When the maidens screamed a furious war cry as they leaped into the ranks of the enemy, it felt as if a tide had swarmed the enemy. Trynne surrendered to her instincts, to the wellspring magic that flooded her with knowledge and experience from hundreds of similar battles.
Their foes wilted before them. Some were running, some were trying to fight, and a few were attacking their own forces in the confusion and chaos. Trynne charged ahead, swinging her blade on both sides of her horse as she went, fighting her way through the ranks.
Trynne’s magic enveloped her as she fought her way toward the beleaguered soldiers. Attacks from the glaives glanced off her hauberk, but she countered viciously and fast, and so did her sisters. The ranks of Gahalatine’s soldiers broke apart, and the warriors began to flee, creating an opening to the stranded knights of Ceredigion. There was a cheer from the men of Glosstyr, a throaty roar of triumph.
In that moment, Trynne felt the urge to invoke the ring of disguise she still wore on her finger. The power came over her, almost without her bidding it to, and she felt it transform her and her steed. She could see the illusion of it—she was wearing the armor of the Maid of Donremy, disguised as the Painted Knight—even though she knew it was not real. In the commotion, she butted forward, using her sword to carve a path through the dense melee.
Finally they reached the haggard knights, their black tunics drenched, the white boars now crimson. She saw Severn, ashen-faced, bleeding from multiple wounds, barely able to stand. He leaned against a spear, gripping a battle standard in one hand and a bloodied sword in the other. Men had fallen all around him. There were perhaps less than fifty remaining.
Trynne saw the duke’s eyes on her. He had no Fountain magic left. His stores were completely depleted. But she felt the presence of another Fountain-blessed. A Wizr.
As she approached Severn Argentine, the man she had sensed stepped out from amidst the fleeing soldiers, his face twisted with rage. He was brimming with magic—until now, there’d been no reason for him to use it. The only armor he wore was a helmet buckled beneath his chin. His robes were ornate, in keeping with the customs and fashions of his people. He was dark-skinned, nearly coal black, with a nose ring and jeweled bracelets. The eyes of the Wizr were full of wrath as he stared at her, although she knew he saw the Painted Knight.
He gave a cough of command, the word of power to dispel magic and reveal that which is hidden. “Apokaluptis!”
She felt the blast of it strike her, radiating from him like a rock thrown into a pond. The Wizr’s eyes widened with surprise and realization when it did not affect her. Had her very immunity to the magic revealed her to him?
Slapping her steed’s flanks with the flat of her blade, she charged him. He spat spell after spell at her, trying to bind her, to thwart her, but none of them worked. His magic was powerless against her, and she watched his eyes widen in terror as she bore down on him with her horse, sword raised. Her magic revealed, once again, his vulnerability. As she’d sensed with the other Wizrs, his neck was his weakness. It was why he wore a helmet into battle.
That helmet bounced twice on the ground before his body slumped to the ragged earth. The dark magic in the air vanished.
Trynne yanked on the reins, watching as the warriors of Gahalatine fled toward the city. Other soldiers were coming; pikemen wielding long spears with hooked flanges were rushing in to defend the invading forces against the mounted knights. The poles could be fixed in the earth, forming a wall of spikes that even the bravest of horses would shy from. The response was quick and efficient. Despite the euphoria, she knew that they were still vastly outnumbered.
It was time to leave.
She rode back to Severn. He was rallying his men as the Oath Maidens helped them up onto their horses, the men riding behind the women. Severn refused to accept a hand, insisting that each of his warriors should be rescued first. He hoisted the battle standard and waved it in the faces of the onrushing pikemen, shouting defiance at them in a hoarse voice.
“Come on, you blackguards! I spit in Gahalatine’s eye! Where’s your bravery now! You bleeding cowards! Come and fight us! Fight our Painted Knight, you craven fools!”
One by one, the surviving knights of Glosstyr were pulled up onto the saddles of the Oath Maidens. Trynne gazed around the field, and her heart grieved at all the lost lives, the wickedness of war. It was Gahalatine’s ambition that had started it.
All the surviving knights had been rescued. Only Severn was left. Trynne rode up to him, her face impassive.
“My kingdom for a horse,” Severn croaked, a sneer on his face as he gazed at the oncoming warriors. Once again he had faced the odds and prevailed.
Trynne said nothing but reached her hand down to him. “I think we can spare one,” she said gruffly.
I joined the king’s army. There are rumors that the foreign war is not going well, that more soldiers are needed to join the attack. They are seeking older men now and training us in the arts of war. I keep quiet and to myself. It’s better to sleep in the barracks than in the brush. There is plenty of food. I have this feeling that I need to keep silent. To not reveal that I don’t remember my name. I call myself Stiev. I don’t know why. There was a man in the barracks the size of an ox. He thrashed anyone who stood up to him. I tried to stay out of his way, but he sought me out and tried to intimidate me. A feeling came over me. I knew his weakness and hit him there. I hit him hard. Now he stays away from me. They all do. The training yard is my favorite place to be. I know more than the weapons masters. But I don’t let on that I do. Maybe I used to be one? They say we might be put on a boat soon and sent to the enemy’s kingdom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dundrennan
Following the battle, there was no time to attend to the dead. Chandigarli reinforcements began to march toward the field from Blackpool, and Drew issued the order to continue north to Dundrennan. Trynne had released Severn near the king and transformed back to herself amidst the press and confusion. Another knight had offered his horse to the duke.
She rode up next to the king after he gave the order.
His face brightened in relief when he saw her. “You’re safe!” he said. “Captain Staeli lost track of you, but said you were in the thickest part of the fight. Did you see the Painted Knight, Trynne? He joined the battle and rescued Severn.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Trynne answered, not wanting to lie to him outright. She f
elt a compulsion to keep quiet, to withhold the secret a little while longer.
“Everyone expected him at the Gauntlet,” Drew said, shaking his head in wonderment. “I had thought to name him champion. Some say he hails from Atabyrion, but no one knows who he is. It’s a mystery, truly. But he was here on the battlefield today.”
The king gazed at the crowd, looking for a soldier with a stripe of blue across his face. Trynne stifled a smile.
Severn rode up, his armor battered and stained with blood and dirt. “My lord,” he said curtly, trying to settle the fractious mount. “They are marching quickly from the city, and more soldiers are disembarking from the ships. How many soldiers did you bring? If we rally now, we can fight them back to the shore. Do not let them gain a foothold here. Dundrennan is a mighty castle, but it is leagues away. Fight them now!”
Drew shook his head. “My lord duke, we have barely a thousand warriors with us in all. Just the forces from Averanche under Lady Trynne and Captain Staeli and part of the Beestone garrison. My army will gather in the North. We don’t have the ability to stand and fight here.”
Severn looked surprised, but he recovered quickly. “It was only a ruse, then,” he said with a cough and a chuckle. “I thought you’d ridden from Kingfountain when you got word of the invasion.”
Drew chuffed. “We’ve been driven out of Kingfountain, my lord. My wife and daughter are in sanctuary at Our Lady. Many of the nobles have scattered. If I’m to fight Gahalatine, then I want to choose the ground. I choose Dundrennan.”
A strange look came over Severn’s face. It was the very place where he had lost the crown of Ceredigion. Trynne wondered how he was feeling. His hand grabbed the dagger hilt at his belt and clenched it hard. His cheek muscles twitched and his nostrils flared. “The men of the North are strong, my lord,” he said at last. “They’ll defend you.”
“I’m counting on it,” Drew answered. “Captain Staeli!” he called. When the captain approached him, he asked, “How many have you lost?”
“Twelve of the maidens,” he replied, his voice thick with anger. “So far. If we don’t hasten, then all will be slaughtered.”
“I agree. Form a rearguard to protect us as we go. We’ve lost Blackpool. But we got what we came here for.” He gave Severn an honored look and then nodded at Trynne. “Ride with us, Uncle. The winter has not yet started.”
“Aye,” said the duke, tugging at the reins of his steed. Then he nodded toward the hollow crown, his eyes glittering. “But maybe it should.”
They did not stop until they reached Dundrennan. Fresh mounts were taken from the cities and towns that they passed. Trynne was so used to using the ley lines to travel that it felt strange to be going at such a slow pace. Not knowing what awaited them at Dundrennan, she felt it would be better for her and the king to arrive with an army at their backs instead of alone.
The mountain air grew colder, the trail more rugged and steep as they trudged into the hinterlands of the realm. She saw the icy peak of Helvellyn, where the Maid of Donremy had been executed by being chained to a rock. Severn had once ordered her father to be killed that way, but Fallon’s parents had prevented it. She had always wanted to visit that place but never had, having spent so many of her days in Brythonica and at the palace. Her few visits to Dundrennan had been spent at Dundrennan.
Fallon was likely still at Kingfountain. Did he believe the Wizr’s disguise? Or had he helped arrange the ruse himself? She wanted to believe that he was loyal to Drew, but she kept seeing that change of clothes in the chest beneath Morwenna’s bed.
Her shoulders and thighs ached from days in the saddle, but as they crested the final hill, the view of the fortress banished her fatigue.
Dundrennan stood as tall as a mountain itself. There was a huge waterfall behind it, the noise of which could be heard even from a distance. They stopped at the ridge, admiring the breathtaking view of the valley.
She noticed the king had a faraway look.
“What is it?” Trynne asked Drew softly, drawing up beside him. He slumped a bit in the saddle, a puff of mist coming from his mouth. It was getting dark and they hoped to find warmth and shelter before nightfall.
“It’s the castle of my childhood,” Drew said, turning and giving her a friendly smile. “When you grow older, the places you remember from childhood can begin to seem very small to you. But not Dundrennan.” He rested his hands on the pommel. “This place only grows grander.” The smoke rising from hundreds of chimneys offered a thin haze. The valley was pristine, crowded with enormous pine and fir trees and huge boulders cleft from the mountains. It was a place that had been untarnished by war since before Trynne was born.
As if he shared her thoughts, the king suddenly sighed. “But we bring trouble wherever we ride.” He turned in the saddle. “I want all the Oath Maidens with me when we enter. This is where we will fight.”
“Would you like me to go on ahead to make sure the castle is safe?” Trynne asked.
Drew frowned. “No. If I’m not safe here, I’m safe nowhere. The people here remember me. We go together, Trynne.”
An Espion rider fought through the crowded road to join them at the crest of the hill. His stallion was beleaguered, and the man looked as if he’d been riding even harder than they had.
“News, my lord,” the man panted. “From Lord Amrein. He said I would find you here. I’m glad he wasn’t mistaken.”
“Tell us,” Drew said patiently, watching the man gulp down some wine from a flagon to clear his throat.
“I’ve ridden ahead from Kingfountain. I was with Lord Amrein two days ago at the sanctuary of Our Lady. Your wife and mother be safe, my lord. And your daughter.”
“Thank the Fountain,” Drew sighed out. “What else?”
“Lord Amrein bid me warn you. Gahalatine has taken Kingfountain. Your blood-sister returned to the palace just before he rode into the castle. She warned that there was an imposter pretending to be you. It put the whole castle in an uproar.”
Drew and Trynne exchanged a look. She felt a sliver of doubt at the man’s words.
“Morwenna?” Drew asked.
“Aye, your poisoner. We already knew the truth by the time she arrived, and we’d been working with Lord Amrein in secret. He ordered that we collapse the bridges to separate the palace from the city and the sanctuary. But Gahalatine doesn’t need bridges to move around. We were overrun and everyone fled. Most are heading upriver, to the North. Gahalatine’s ships can’t come this way because of the waterfall, but his army is marching on the other side of the river. And as I was nearing North Cumbria, I had to slip past another army blocking the road.”
“That’s the army from Blackpool,” Trynne said. “How many did you count?”
“Nigh on fifty thousand between the two of them,” the man said, scratching his throat noisily. “Word has it that Duke Fallon withdrew his army from Dundrennan to bring it south. I was told to turn it around and return, but I’ve not seen any sign of it. Have you, my lord?”
The king glanced back at Trynne again, his expression brooding. “No, we have not.”
The Espion bit his lip. “I’ll ride ahead, then, my lord. Mayhap the Espion at the castle will know what’s what.”
“On your way, then,” the king said curtly. He stared at the fortress below, his brow furrowing. “I don’t like this, Trynne,” he said as the man rode away. “We have two armies behind us. And likely one ahead.”
“But whose side is it on?” she murmured softly. She tapped the flanks of her horse with her spurs and they both started down toward Dundrennan.
Cheering greeted them as they rode through the streets leading toward the castle. The people of Dundrennan were hanging out of windows, wagging lanterns, and shouting ebulliently. Everywhere Trynne looked, there were knights wearing the badge of the Pierced Lion, joining in the ruckus and holding aloft their swords as they welcomed King Drew to the North. Trynne and her Oath Maidens surrounded the king and cleared the path for him.
The throngs followed them, offering drink and food, blankets, and warm garments to the weary soldiers of Averanche. There was nothing but pure joy in the air, and they were greeted with respect and courtesy.
Trynne gazed up at the castle on the bluff ahead, wondering what they would find there. The castle was lit with torches and bedecked with banners, but trickery had been used to win many battles.
Haley, who had been sent on ahead, met them on the road. She rode through the crowd, making her way to Trynne.
“My lady,” she shouted, trying to be heard over the commotion. “We heard you might arrive during the night. The maidens have been flocking to Dundrennan daily. The people here are loyal to the king. So are the guards at the castle. Duke Fallon has ordered them to make preparations to welcome everyone. The women and children have been gathered into the castle. The menfolk are going to stay outside. The castle is on alert day and night.”
“Fallon is here?” she said, feeling a shudder of anticipation go through her. The news was unexpected.
“Yes! He arrived earlier today.”
“How many soldiers defend the castle?” Trynne asked.
Haley shrugged and frowned. “I heard some were called to defend Kingfountain. We have about five thousand. The duke can explain better than I can. Come to the castle.”
Trynne nodded, still not allowing herself to feel relieved. The king was waving to the crowd, looking regal despite his weariness from the punishing ride to the North. The cheers grew louder. Still, Trynne needed to be sure. She reached out with her magic, searching for any threats to the king. Her magic responded as it usually did in such moments. There were armed soldiers everywhere. The danger was real. But at the moment, there was no imminent threat.
