Medieval Wolfe Boxed Set: A De Wolfe Connected World Collection of Victorian and Medieval Tales

by Alexa Aston

  They downed a cold meal and climbed in the saddle once more as soon as they could make out shapes in the mist.

  While they traveled, the sun rose on a slate-hued world.

  “We leave the heights behind,” Betek said when they paused to look west.

  Elrik nodded. “Aye, the land begins its gradual descent toward the Iras Sea.”

  They came upon a place where the river dropped in a frothing tumble over a wide, half-circle shelf of granite and into a shallow basin before flowing on. Here Sir Estienne found the first proof they did, indeed, proceed in the right direction. Yrsa’s captor had stopped at the basin, possibly to refill his water skin. He left a footprint in the sandy mud at the bank.

  It soon became evident to Elrik the tracking skills of the two knights exceeded his, or that of Betek. Their confidence was such he deferred to their judgment.

  “I do not think,” he whispered to his friend, “I would have recognized that mark as the footprint of a man. I am grateful those two are with us.”

  “I would scout,” Estienne said, coming up to them. “’Twill not take long and may serve us well.”

  “Go then,” Elrik said.

  Sooner than expected, the knight returned. Elrik asked not what he found, if aught, and Estienne volunteered naught.

  On they journeyed into the morn beneath dismal skies, and past another dale where the trees grew so thick around the river in its rocky bed they had to force a way through. Estienne and William left for a scouting foray. By the time they returned, ’twas nigh midday.

  “We go the right way,” Estienne said.

  The river wound next around the bases of steep, boulder-strewn knolls. Beyond them, it narrowed to rush through a deep cleft long ago carved through a towering peak.

  The sides of the cleft rose nigh vertical, but a track Estienne declared forged by human feet zigzagged up the peak’s slope to its crest. Once at the summit, the track angled toward the south, but they walked across straight west only to stop and stare in wonder at the newest valley spread before them.

  Elrik stood on the summit of the high peak overlooking a deep, bowl-shaped vale, longer than it was wide and cleaved by the river. Lushly green, a dreaming serenity lay over it unlike any they had previously traversed.

  Betek came alongside, followed by the two knights. “’Tis wondrous,” he said, his voice hushed.

  “Aye,” said William.

  “Had he the right woman at his side,” Sir Estienne said, “methinks a man might bide here for the rest of his days and not grow bored.”

  “Some men do,” Elrik said. He pointed to a half circle of structures perched along the southern edge of the valley floor. Verdant pasture in which sheep and goats grazed spread around them.

  The hillsides to the south and west rolled softer, gentler than those to the north and east, their upper slopes clothed in grasses and scrub. Here and there, rocky knolls lifted above the surface. Small areas of gray scree provided the eye relief from the intense green. A thick belt of woodland grew about three quarters of the way down the slopes. Beyond the trees, as far down as the valley floor, bracken blanketed the ground.

  Howbeit, the slopes to the north and along the valley’s eastern end, below where they now stood, thrust steep and rugged. The jagged northern cliff face looked hewn by hand into unevenly spaced blocks. Trees marched to the rims of sharply vertical granite escarpments. The ruined roof of an ancient stone keep reared against the northern face, so swathed in moss its stark outlines blended with the treetops.

  Far below their feet, the river rushed through the cleft to roar over the edge of the cliff in a high fall. From there, it wound through a luxuriantly wooded area that covered about two-thirds of the valley floor. Thin lines of smoke trailed into the air from small clearings. The waters gathered into a small lake at the western end. On the southern side of the lake, an enclosure held swine. On the opposite side, oxen grazed in a second pasture.

  The sky steadily cleared. The play of broken cloud and sunlight reflected off the water in the lake and patterned the vale with moving patches of shadow. The light glimmered off foliage still wet from the rain. ’Twas a landscape of peaceful, homely beauty that promised respite from the harsh reality beyond its borders.

  To the eyes of men who lived lives bracketed by violence and bloody death, it seemed a place set apart from time, a scene crafted of magic.

  “’Tis fair, and no argument,” Betek said, his grin nigh silly with wonder. “I, too, would be content to stop here a while.”

  “’Twas originally my intent,” Elrik mused, “to make for Toresbi and the lands nigh the western sea. I have heard ’tis a rich region with plentiful opportunities for a man to start a new life. But this place—”

  This hidden haven called to a need deep in his soul. He had no doubt Yrsa would respond in kind. Was this the valley depicted in her dream? He imagined it so.

  He inhaled the clean air, then shook his head to gather his dazzled thoughts from the illusion spread below. Nay, this earth boasted no perfect locations, no settings utterly free of hardship and danger. The seductive scene did not deceive him. He knew not exactly where in the land they now walked, but until he found Yrsa, the woman of his heart, the mate of his soul, no place could hold him.

  His lips tightened, and he clenched his palm around the hilt of his sword. Even did this vale herald a true haven of peace as Yrsa’s dream foretold, ’twould matter not. She said trouble would come here, that their arrival might herald it, mayhap set it in motion.

  The trek here gave him time to think, time for the first, fierce heat of his rage to evolve into cold resolve. He wished no harm to the valley’s inhabitants and desired a peaceful ending to his quest, but if she were here, if they hurt her or kept her from him, ’twould be he who would tear the vale apart.

  Sir Estienne padded nearer the southern side of the summit. After the morn’s exertions he limped a little, but his wound seemed not otherwise to bother him. The knight turned and gestured. “Here! The trail leaves the summit to pass into the dale.”

  He was right. The well-worn pathway snaked down through the grasses and scrub of the upper slope to disappear into the belt of woodland.

  “Do we take it or seek another way down?”

  For the first time in days, Elrik wished the hills held more cover. “I would, did I see a less open approach. If anyone in the valley happens to look up, our silhouettes would be easily spied.”

  The four of them began a rapid, systematic search along the crest. ’Twas quickly apparent no covert route led down the mountainside.

  Elrik frowned as his gaze swept the landscape. “Since our arrival, the only movement in the vale is that of the animals. I like it not that none of the people are out in the open where they may be observed. Where are the men of this place? Methinks it has the feel of a trap.”

  “I had the same thought,” William said. “’Tis the middle of the day. Even if most are busy inside there should be more activity, especially around those buildings.”

  Estienne scanned the summit about them. “’Tis true the open may allow others to spy upon us without our knowledge, but it also works in our favor. None can come upon us unaware.”

  “Well, I see naught for it,” Betek muttered, “but to move. ’Tis foolish to linger here unless we intend to wait until night and go into the vale in secret. In that case, we should lead the horses away from the verge, as if we choose to pass the valley by, and return on our bellies.”

  Elrik agreed. The other three watched him, awaiting his decision.

  “We will take the track and make for the trees. If, once we are under cover there is still no one visible, we will decide what further to do.”

  They slogged along a path muddy from the recent rain. Due to the precipitous slant of the downward slope, ’twas a long and winding pass. It took some time to traverse.

  Elrik breathed more easily when they gained the shelter of the abundant belt of woodland. They stayed on the path all the
way through to the lower side where it continued out into the open, almost swallowed in the bracken.

  The valley floor loomed. What had appeared from the summit as mere white and reddish-brown dots amid the verdant green were now unveiled as sheep and oxen. Dark lines showed plainly as stone fences holding the animals in their pastures. Still, no humans moved within their view.

  “Now what, Elrik?”

  He glanced at each of the others. ’Twas time to speak of Yrsa’s dream, for even Betek had yet to hear of it. “I feel no eyes upon us and we may remain unnoticed, but before a decision is made there is that which all of you should know. Howbeit, I would first have Sir Estienne and Sir William pledge their word of honor they will speak naught of what I say to anyone else. Otherwise, the secret is not mine to tell.”

  “Elrik?” Betek’s tone advised caution.

  “Yrsa would not have them come to harm through lack of knowledge, my friend. You know well a man who understands beforehand all he may know about a dangerous situation is more likely to survive it. Besides, William already guesses Yrsa’s secret, and I take it he sees fit not to speak of it to others.”

  William’s brows hurtled upwards, but he said naught.

  Elrik held their gazes. “Your word?”

  Estienne weighed his answer. “This information will be of aid to us?”

  “As far as it goes, aye.”

  “Very well. I will trust you in this. My word is yours.”

  “As is mine,” William said, throwing Estienne a ‘what else can I do’ glance.

  “Yrsa, the woman I seek,” Elrik said, “believes great danger, and mayhap death will come to the people of this place while we are here, though whether we bring it upon them or it derives from another source she could not say. Her desire is to offer aid, if she can. I mean to respect her wishes. Thus, Betek and I will go in as those who bear no ill will. If we learn or suspect she is here and captive, and they will not release her, we will adjust our plans accordingly.”

  “This is an interesting development, my friend,” Betek said. “Grave danger, you say, even death.” He cocked his head. “Did either of you consider bypassing this valley?”

  “I suggested it. Yrsa said we must come here. Something to do with, uhm…destiny.” He held first Sir Estienne’s look then that of Sir William. “She said the two of you would accompany us here, that you would seek someone and ’twould be important you find him. She named no names, but I would guess ’tis Dugald.” He paused. “Before you ask, she stated this before the Scot went missing. ’Tis your choice to join us.”

  Estienne’s brows drew together. He looked askance at Elrik. “I understand not. How would she know such things?”

  “She has dreams that foretell. Only yesterday morn she said we would soon come upon an unusual valley. From her description, methinks this is the one.”

  The same unease and skepticism previously shown by William flashed across Sir Estienne’s expression. He grabbed his First by his tunic and pulled him out of hearing range.

  Elrik propped a shoulder against a tree trunk while the two argued.

  Betek, hands behind his back, rocked on his heels. “Does Yrsa think the trouble has aught to do with the Scot, Dugald?”

  “She said not so.”

  “What think you they,” and he nodded toward the knights, “will decide?”

  “Methinks, Betek, they will stay. They have orders to apprehend Dugald and at the moment, this is the most likely place to seek him or news of him.”

  “Then you are right. ’Tis best we go in alone.”

  “We shall see.”

  The two knights came to an agreement.

  “We will remain here for a time, under cover,” Estienne said. “Certes, Dugald is the one who took the woman and expects you to follow to recover her, but methinks he would not expect William and me to come with you. He knew Sir Hersin must return to Duresme and would believe we went with him.”

  “I agree,” William said.

  “’Tis well,” Elrik said. “It hurts not to have backup able to move freely when one goes into an unknown situation.”

  He swung toward the horses, abruptly needing action. Yrsa waited. She needed him. He whispered reassurance.

  “We go, Betek.”

  He shouldered his crossbow and removed his saddle pack and water skin.

  Betek did the same.

  “I hunger,” Elrik said, “but I will wait no longer. We will eat as we descend. I say we leave the horses with the knights.”

  “’Tis a course agreeable to me.” Betek withdrew the ale skin, downed a swig and put it back with the supplies. “My curiosity about this dale grows apace. I would learn how Yrsa’s dream vision comes to pass.”

  He strode into the open ahead of Elrik, his boots brushing through bracken fronds. He munched a generous slice of cheese stuck between two hunks of bread as he walked, but his hand rested on the pommel of his sword.

  Elrik scanned the vale and the lower slopes, trying to watch everywhere at once. The almost mystical sense of serenity that girded the place argued little need for excessive caution, but he had learned early in life an impression on so instinctive a level could be dangerously deceptive.

  Their route dumped them without incident onto the valley floor at the southern edge of the eastern escarpment. The path left the bracken and angled north, leading them through a gate in the stone fence and for a short interval over the lush grass of the pasture. Down here, the land lay protected from the brisk winds of the high fells that could chill a man’s bones even in high summer. The sunshine fell warmer upon the shoulders, and unlike the brilliant white light higher up, the air held a faint greenish tinge. The scent of the vale captivated the senses with the fragrance of fresh summer growth and the meadow flowers that dotted the pasture—if one ignored the occasional whiff of pigs and oxen dung.

  A bee buzzed by his head, calling his attention to a cluster of hives on his left. A goodly distance beyond it stood the first of the buildings.

  He caught a strong puff of a different, but distinctive scent as Betek, now several steps ahead of him, paused. “Smell that, do you?”

  “Aye. Honey mead, for certain.”

  “Of fine quality, too, I would say. Think you that first structure yonder is the meadhouse?”

  “’Tis large enough.”

  Betek’s grin widened. “Hope you, as I do, these folk are the friendly type?”

  “Only if I get Yrsa back unharmed.”

  “Aye. I have not forgotten. Yet a man may hope,” he said before plunging beneath the trees.

  ’Twas cooler beneath the canopy, although enough of the sunlight from the brightening skies filtered through to fuel a riotous growth of ferns and other ground foliage through which the path led.

  Elrik judged they had walked about half the width of the valley before it intersected with another track coming from his right.

  From somewhere nigh, but back toward the east, came the sound of rushing, falling water. The view from the summit high above popped into his mind. The waterfall. The river ran close. He could smell it, though ’twas not yet within sight. They rounded a corner of the path and there ’twas, spanned by an arched bridge of rock and mortar.

  Betek stopped, tension in the rigid line of his shoulders. He reached for the bow slung across his shoulders, hesitated, then dropped his hand to grip his sword. “Now what?”

  “We cross.”

  Caution directed their approach.

  At the bridge entrance, Elrik threw a glance in either direction. Far upstream, nearly hidden behind leafy, overhanging branches and green growth along the banks, the river rushed between massive boulders. The waters plummeted in gossamer veils over a second fall, this one half the height of a man. By the time they reached the bridge, they gurgled quietly past to hurry downstream beyond his sight.

  Betek stiffened. “Elrik, we are watched. I see his eyes. To our right, across the bridge and behind the ferns. He knows I have spotted him.”
r />   “I see him.”

  The eyes blinked. A loud giggle followed.

  “’Tis naught but a child,” Elrik said. “We do it no harm.”

  “Nay. But where a child is, an adult is usually not far away.”

  “Allow me to deal with this.”

  Betek’s snort scoffed. “You know naught more of children than I.”

  “Mayhap, but I think of Yrsa. I will do what she would do.”

  “How can you know what she would do?”

  He shrugged. “I can guess.”

  He flicked a brief glance overhead and froze. He searched the canopy all around and then looked to where the little one watched. He smiled and held out a hand.

  Delighted laughter lifted above the ferns. The child, very small, mayhap no more than four summers, burst from his hiding place. He darted away along the path, brown-gold curls bouncing along his shoulders.

  Elrik called, but the boy did not stop.

  Keeping his hands conspicuously away from his weapons, Elrik glanced again above him and hurried across the bridge after the little one. ’Twas a risk, mayhap a foolish one, but he did not want to lose this chance to make a good impression.

  He caught up to the child and grinning hugely, lifted him by the waist and tossed him gently into the air, twirling the tiny body. The little one squealed with excitement.

  The boy now faced him. His nut-brown eyes met Elrik’s gaze. He chortled, the sound bright and happy.

  Chuckling in response, Elrik held him suspended. The trust in the little one’s eyes nigh impelled him to his knees.

  Speaking in English, he said, “’Tis happy I am to greet you, little one. Is your papa nigh? I would speak with him.”

  The boy nodded and made a pointing gesture over his shoulder. “Home. I take you.”

  Elrik pretended to drop him, eliciting another peal of mirth. ’Twas a sound foreign to him, but one he would forever cherish. He had killed too many like this boy. There was no laughter then, but dealing death to innocents ended the day he met Yrsa. He would keep that vow to his last breath.