Eternal Knight

by Matt Heppe

  "Last round," Morin said.

  "You fir...." The words died on her lips as Hadde faced the last competitor. Venom filled his stare. She balked at his anger. What had she done to deserve it? The thought vanished as soon as she had it.

  What had she done? She had humiliated him. Hadde's eyes flicked away from him and across the crowd. Some were smiling, clearly entertained by the show. But the others....

  Frowning at her lapse, Morin waved to the squire. "Go ahead."

  With a final glare at Hadde, he lifted his crossbow, and with only a momentary pause, pulled the trigger. The bolt flew into the target, striking the line dividing the bulls-eye and the two point circle. He lowered his bow, relief plain on his face.

  “Three points to win,” Morin said to Hadde.

  “Thank you, Prince Morin. Numbers simply baffle me.” She nocked her arrow and took aim. A simple shot dismounted and at this range. As she let the air out of her lungs and prepared to release she heard Morin say, “Wait, you're—”

  She ignored him and let fly. The arrow struck the target with a crack. The crowd roared. Hadde let a smile cross her face as she regarded her handiwork. Her arrow protruded from the red circle of her competitor’s target, a half-finger from his bolt.

  Chaos ruled the crowd. Some cheered, many argued, while others shouted angrily at Morin that her points were invalid. The prince raised his hand and the mass quieted. “Hadde of Landomere, you appear to have scored three points, but on the wrong target. Those points don’t count. Perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the rules? Would you like another opportunity?”

  “No fair!” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Ten arrows only!” called another.

  Morin raised his hand again.

  “The rules are the rules, Prince Morin,” Hadde said before he could speak. “It was foolish of me not to pay more attention to what I was doing. The squire is obviously my better.”

  ***

  “You were amazing, Hadde,” Maret gushed. She stared out Hadde’s window into the courtyard. Workers were already removing the stands. “I’ve never… never... it was magnificent!”

  Hadde smiled as she placed her bowcase on her bed. “It was fun.”

  “May I see it?” Maret asked, motioning toward the bow.

  “Of course.” Hadde slid the bow from its protective sheath and handed it to the maiden. “It’s named Hawkeye.”

  “What a perfect name. It seems so… exotic... so dangerous.”

  Hadde laughed. “Here, this is how you hold it.” She showed Maret how to properly take up the bow. “I draw it with my thumb. But you might want to use four fingers.”

  Maret grimaced as she attempted to draw the bow. The string hardly moved. “It’s impossible,” she said. “How do you do it?”

  “I grew up with a bow in my hand—all Landomeri do. But I started with a simple bow. Hawkeye is a composite of wood, sinew, and horn.” She motioned to where Belor's bow leaned, unstrung against the wall. “That bow has an even heavier draw than this one.”

  Maret stared at Hadde, incomprehension plain on her face. “I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that I could never do it.”

  Hadde took Hawkeye back and placed it on her bed. “You could. It would just take time. I’m going to change clothes,” she warned.

  As Hadde unbuttoned her dress Maret turned her gaze outside. “You almost won, Hadde. Many people were rooting for you even if they didn’t want to show it. It was so exciting.” She paused a moment. “You know, I’ll bet you would have won if you hadn’t ridden your horse.”

  “Hmmm,” Hadde said as she stepped out of the dress and pulled on her tunic and leggings.

  “Well, you could have.”

  “I did win, Maret.”

  “But…”

  A knock sounded at the door. “One moment.” Hadde called out. She finished tying her leggings and opened the door. A maiden stepped into the room. “Ambassador Hadde, Prince Morin has sent you a note.”

  “A note?”

  “Yes, here it is.” The maiden walked into the room and handed Hadde a folded piece of paper.

  “Read it, Hadde,” Maret exclaimed.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know how to read.”

  Both girls stared at her. Hadde shrugged. “We have no books in Landomere.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Maret said.

  “No need to feel sorry. Would you read it for me, Maret?”

  “Of course. Look, it has his seal on it.”

  Maret carefully removed the wax. “He wants to meet you. He wants to discuss archery He says to bring your bow and arrows.”

  “When?” Hadde asked. She felt a flutter in her stomach. Had the afternoon’s display gained her another enemy?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hadde of Landomere, a most impressive show,” Morin said, holding up the ten arrows she had loosed in the contest. He glanced past her, and with a wave of his hand and a word of thanks sent off her escort.

  “Where are we, my lord?” Hadde asked. The squire had led her to an unfamiliar part of the Great Keep.

  “Please come in,” he pushed open a heavy door. “This is the Weapons Gymnasium.”

  As she stepped through the door, she gasped. The chamber was almost as large as the Great Hall. She stared, awestruck, at the vast collection of weapons and armor lining the walls. Practice dummies of leather stuffed with straw were scattered throughout the room. Some were mounted on wooden horses, while others hung from the ceiling by ropes.

  She jumped as the door banged closed behind her. As the prince turned from it, she realized they were alone. An image of Waltas’s leering face appeared in her mind. Would this Saladoran turn out as evil? She resisted the urge to run for the door, swearing to herself that no man would take her at unawares.

  Resting her hand on her knife’s hilt, she said, “You could equip an entire army from this one room, my lord.” She hoped he hadn’t caught the quaver in her voice.

  He smiled a broad smile. “Not much of an army. The weapons are for practice. They’re either blunted for mock combat or weighted to build strength. And enough with the ‘my lords.’ I find it tiresome.”

  She nodded. “Do you spend much time here...”

  “Call me Morin. And yes, all knights do. I think I spent most of my childhood here. But I didn’t ask you here to talk about me. I want to talk about you. You cost me a considerable amount of money. You nearly ruined my friend Astor."

  Hadde swallowed. Money might mean little to her, but she knew how much Saladorans loved it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He laughed a good-natured laugh. “Not only me and Astor, but Sir Nidon, and Squire Melas as well.”

  “You bet on me in the contest? I didn’t know. I would have….”

  He arched his eyebrows. “You would have what?”

  “I was told that no one put money on me. I just wanted to prove a point.”

  “Oh, that you did.” He chuckled. “In fact I was actually expecting competence from you. I’ve spent much time in foreign lands. Enough to know that women are not utterly inept in all masculine tasks. Nidon and Melas also had much to say about you. You made quite an impression on them.” The prince’s smile seemed to hint at a secret that he alone knew.

  “I was raised an archer.”

  “I saw that.” He put his hand on his chin. “Tell me, are there many people from your land who can do such things?”

  “From western Landomere there are. We live on the edge of the Kiremi plains. I used to be a better rider, but I spend most of my time in the forest now. Several years ago we fought a battle against the Kiremi in hopes of maintaining our access to the plains and the aurochs that live there. We drew the battle, but our losses were too great. We couldn’t afford to keep fighting and so moved deeper into the forest.”

  Morin nodded. “The Kiremi are your enemies?”

  “Only recently. We used to exist with t
hem peacefully. The Wasting ended that. They didn’t want to share the aurochs with us.”

  “The Kiremi fight mounted, with bows, as you do?”

  “Yes, but they also carry small shields and spears. Some of them have armor as well. I don’t think their archery is as good, though.”

  He paused in thought. “Here, have a seat.” He led her to a bench along the wall. Hadde sat, but the prince remained standing, pacing in front of her. “How long are you in Sal-Oras?”

  “I don’t know. I want to return home, but the king wants me to stay.” She thought of her parents and imagined what they were doing. How hard were things in Long Meadow? She should be with them.

  “You must be very important.” Morin paused.

  “He said that he had to read books and study prophecies.”

  “That damned library. He spends his life in there while the Wasting takes the world. Forsvar is a decoration he wears around his neck. So he won't let you go until he finds the answers he's looking for? You may be with us quite a while—he'll never find what he's looking for.”

  “Never?” She wondered how long she would be stuck in Sal-Oras. She couldn’t bear living at ease while her people wasted away.

  “The Orb isn’t in that library. It’s out there somewhere.” He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture.

  “But I must go home. If the king cannot cure the Wasting I have to take supplies home.” Hadde stood. She felt ill at ease sitting with the prince pacing back and forth in front of her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll do what I can for you,” he said. “I'll not let my brother make a prisoner of you.”

  “Thank you, Prince Morin.”

  “But there is one thing that I would like to ask of you,” he said. A moment of apprehension caused Hadde to pause. What would this man ask of her? “I’ll do what I can,” she forced herself to say.

  “May I take a look at your bow? Would you mind?”

  “Of course not.” Hadde stood and drew her bow from its case at her side and handed it to him.

  Morin ran his fingers along the arc of the bow. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Hawkeye. My father made it for me.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  Hadde watched as he ineptly drew the bow. She struggled to keep the smirk from her face. “You think this is funny?” His smile put her at ease. “This is what I want…I would like for you to instruct me in archery.”

  Hadde couldn’t hide her surprise. “I thought archery was beneath Saladorans.”

  “It may be, but I’m not like other Saladorans.”

  ***

  Hadde whistled a happy tune as she made her way toward the Maiden Hall. Turning a corner, she saw a man walking ahead of her. He paid her no notice as she fell in behind him. Still remembering her meeting with Morin, she followed the man for a score of strides before something about him made her slow her pace. She frowned. What was it about him?

  The white tabard. Earl Waltas.

  Choking back a cry, she threw herself into the shelter of a doorway. The earl didn’t turn, but continued down the hall. Hadde breathed easier when he disappeared around a corner. But what was he doing so close to the Maiden Hall? He wouldn’t dare seek her out, would he? Not after what Nidon had done to him. Not after she had been given the king’s protection.

  Her hand went to Hawkeye. Touching the bow dispelled some of her fears. The thought of putting an arrow into him flittered through her head, but she knew she couldn't. The rage she felt the days after her attack had chilled. She would put her trust in Nidon's sword.

  And who would they suspect if Waltas turned up dead of an arrow wound? She almost smiled. It wouldn't make much of a mystery.

  She stepped out from her hiding place. But instead of following in Waltas’s steps, she turned and took a longer route. She wouldn’t take the risk he would ambush her as she turned a corner. Hadde strode down two halls and up the stairs that led to the Maiden Hall. The tension eased from her shoulders as she passed the two armored squires standing guard.

  Noticing Maret’s door stood ajar, Hadde knocked and said, “Maret, are you in?”

  “Come in.” Two maidens sat in the room with Maret. Fabric lay piled around all three. Their eyes widened as they noticed Hadde's bow at her side.

  “Hadde, this is Jenae,” Maret said, nodding at a tall brown-haired girl. “And this is Tira. Their fathers are West-Teren barons.”

  Hadde had seen both before, but had never been introduced. It had been Tira who had brought Morin's letter to her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Hadde.” And then, tired of their arrogance, she added, “My father’s a hunter.”

  “A what? Really?” Tira asked.

  “A hunter,” Hadde said, smiling at the pretty, auburn-haired girl.

  “But what’s his title?”

  “They have no titles in Landomere,” Maret said, her tone expressing her satisfaction at her knowledge. “Ambassador Hadde resides here on the king’s command.”

  “Well, we all know that,” Tira said.

  “The contest was amazing, Ambassador Hadde,” Jenae said. “How did you shoot like that?”

  “Riding and archery have always been a part of my life. And please, call me Hadde.”

  “Everyone is talking about it,” Maret said. “You’re famous.”

  “And you had a private audience with Prince Morin.” Tira giggled. “He’s magnificent.”

  “What did he say?” Maret asked. “You were with him such a long time.”

  Hadde shrugged and then patted her bow. “He wants me to teach him archery.”

  “He what?” The girls couldn't hide their surprise.

  Hadde shrugged. “He thought horse archery might have military significance. At least that’s what he said when he walked me back to the Maiden Hall.”

  Jenae gasped. “He escorted you?”

  Hadde glanced at the open-mouthed girls. “Not the entire way. But, yes, after his lesson.”

  The girls exchanged looks.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” Jenae replied. “It’s just that, well, he showed you unusual favor.”

  “He was just being polite.” Hadde shifted her weight from foot to foot under the girl’s scrutiny. She certainly didn’t want more enemies. “What are you working on?” She asked to break the silence.

  “Our gowns for the Festival of Spring,” Maret said. “It’s coming up soon.”

  “Do you already have your gown?” Tira asked as she appraised Hadde’s hunting attire.

  “No,” Hadde laughed. “I’m finished with Saladoran clothing. In any case, I wasn’t invited.”

  “Oh, everyone is invited. It isn’t a private party.”

  “The prince didn’t mention the feast to you, did he?” Maret asked.

  “No. Only archery.” Relief spread across the girls’ faces. Hadde laughed to herself. They had nothing to worry about except their party. “Your dresses are beautiful. Have fun at the ball.” She turned to leave and then paused. “I’m going to go for a ride tomorrow. Would any of you like to come?”

  “Go for a ride?” Maret asked.

  “Yes. I would like to get out of the keep and see some of the city.”

  “Hadde, real ladies don’t ride for pleasure.” She made no effort to hide her disapproval.

  “Ah, but I’m not a real lady,” Hadde replied as she departed.

  ***

  Hadde woke early the following morning and made her way to the stables. Stable hands were already tending to the Great Keep's horses. Puddle ran up to her as she made her way to Lightfoot. He was terribly thin, with straw from his night's sleep still in his hair.

  “Is the lady going to ride?” he asked as he brushed off.

  “I am. I wish to see a little of the city.”

  “I'll see to your horse,” he said. He spoke with the accent of the commoners, but Hadde found she had little difficulty understanding them now.

  “I think I'll take all three, Quickstep and Windwa
lker as well as Lightfoot.”

  “All three saddled?”

  “No, just Lightfoot, unless... would you like to come with me? You could be my guide.”

  “Lady? Me?”

  “Yes, you. And here, take this as well,” she replied as she handed him a hunk of bread and a quarter of cheese folded in a cloth. She had another for herself.

  “I—I thank you, my lady!”

  “It’s no problem. Thank you for taking care of my horses. Now let's go for a ride.”

  “I have to get permission,” he said as he dashed off. Hadde went to Lightfoot and stroked her muzzle. She was there only a moment when Puddle returned with a man Hadde's age. “I’m the Stable Journeyman, Ambassador,” he said. “Puddle says you wish to ride with him.”

  “I do.”

  “That doesn’t seem proper. He’s just an apprentice.”

  “I want him to come. It will be fun.”

  “I should check with the Stable Master.”

  “No,” Hadde said as he turned to leave. She had had enough of Saladorans and their silly rules. “We’re just going for a short ride.”

  “As you wish. But I’ll let the Master know.” He shot Puddle a dark look before giving her a curt bow and begging her leave to depart.

  After saddling the horses, Hadde and Puddle mounted and rode into the courtyard. Dawn had just broken and only a few people were up and about. Hadde drew a deep breath of cold winter air and pulled her heavy cloak closer about her. When she noticed Puddle’s ragged cloak, she insisted he return to the stable for something warmer. He returned with a horse blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders.

  “You’ve nothing warmer?” Hadde asked. The nobles certainly didn’t lack for food or winter attire.

  “No, Ambassador. But I’ll be fine. I don’t notice the cold much.” As they made their way to the gate a Knight of the House stepped in front of them. Two guardsmen stood nearby.

  “Ambassador Hadde,” the knight called out as she approached. “I’m Captain Palen. May I be of service?”