Minstrel's Serenade

by Aubrie Dionne

  “Leave her alone.” Bron’s horse cut through the growing crowd. “Go.”

  He offered his hand and pulled her up on his horse with him. “You are too kind, Princess.”

  “I wish I could help all of them.” She held onto him as he cut through the crowd. He was her rock, her driftwood at sea, her compass. He’d always pull her up.

  “You will.” He rode up to her horse and she dismounted. “Believe in our quest.”

  “I do.” Danika climbed onto her charger then met his gaze, and they froze, locked on one another. His belief in her solidified her resolve. Together they could rule the world. If only Bron had a kingdom to justify their union. Danika sighed. A farm in Oaten’s Dell was hardly a kingdom, and his brother, Hule, was to inherit it. Bron had nothing except his courage and reputation to his name.

  That was enough for her. But was he enough for Ebonvale?

  Bron broke their stare. “Onward, march.”

  The army began moving and the tide of travelers kept their distance, pushing to the sides of the road. Danika could bear to look no longer; instead, she focused on the path ahead. Only when the sun rose high in the sky did her shaking subside.

  The countryside turned from green fields to brown wasteland with blackened patches. The brook that had followed them along the way dried into a muddy hole, and the sky was empty of birds. No insects buzzed on the wind. The unnatural silence rang in Danika’s ears and she focused on the rhythmic clomp of the army’s feet.

  They crested a hill, looking down upon the bridge linking Ebonvale with the southern districts, the same bridge the wyverns had kept them from crossing before their journey to the House of Song. Although the lake had dried, the muck would still slow them down, and the higher ground of the bridge provided a superior advantage in battle. They had to cross the bridge instead of trekking through the dry lake.

  “Do the wyverns still guard it?” Danika already knew the answer. The dark clouds moved unnaturally, shady tendrils weaving in and out.

  Bron peered through his telescope. “Five, maybe ten.”

  Danika checked the position of the sun and a sinking feeling sucked at the bottom of her stomach. “None of the scouts have returned besides the one.”

  “I know.” Bron stuffed the telescope back in his travel bag. “We could go around.”

  “And tramp the whole army though the forest?” Danika thought back to the kobolds. “Not only would the diversion take us more time, time we don’t seem to have, but, the kobolds are just as dangerous as the wyverns, and our armor will not protect us against their attack. Besides, I’m not comfortable leaving these beasts in my kingdom to wreak havoc while we sail south. What if they press north to the castle?”

  Bron held her eyes with a courageous stare. “Move on, then?”

  “It will be a good test of Garish’s design and practice for what is to come. I’m sure many more than ten hover over Scalehaven. If we cannot defeat this swarm, then we are doomed to fail.”

  “We will not fail.” Bron secured his travel bag and unsheathed his sword. “’Tis best to take them by surprise.” He spurred his charger into action with his sword pointed in front of him. His voice boomed across the army. “To battle!”

  Danika paused, blinking in shock as Bron took the lead. The time of reckoning had come. A current of panic shot into her legs and she spurred her horse after the front lines. Bron wasn’t charging into battle by himself.

  The thick mass in the sky spread into spiraling tendrils. Danika shouted, “Faster! They’ve spotted us!”

  Archers released a volley of arrows. The first three beasts dove toward them in fiery balls. Danika forgot how to breathe as she watched their path with disbelief.

  “Keep firing,” Bron shouted to the archers. He turned to the rest of the army. “Give way!”

  The archers held their ground as the wyverns descended, pricking their bodies like pin cushions and shredding their wings. Unable to control its landing, the first wyvern plummeted to the ground, breaking the cobblestone to shards. Bron rode to the fire worm in an instant, slicing its scaly throat with his sword.

  One slayed. Four to go. The air burned like Garish’s smithy, and Danika wiped sweat from her cheeks, steering her horse to the right as the second worm fell from the sky.

  Too many soldiers had clumped together, avoiding the first wyvern’s descent. They scrambled to escape the next fiery wyvern’s wake as the beast hit, rolling in a two-ton mass toward the front line. Its tail alone took three men with it.

  Danika shielded her eyes as grief wracked her body in shudders. She didn’t have time to honor them because a sharp cry echoed over her head. She gazed at the sky in horror. The third wyvern had redirected its course to the other side of the army. As the worm fell the beast turned its snout and set its own wings on fire.

  “Dirty bastard.” Danika whipped the reigns. “Everyone, move!”

  The army spread, fragmenting the core, and Danika lost Bron in the commotion. She ducked as one of the leathery wings scraped over her helmet. The reek of sulfur, spicy incense, and the whiff of fish flared in her nostrils. Danika coughed and rode down an incline as the beast hit the ground behind her.

  A rolling wave of heat followed, and Danika threw herself on top of her horse to cover the beast as much as she could, burying her face in its mane. Garish had also equipped the horses with armor, but their bodies were much harder to cover. Smoke clouded everything around her. Her eyes burned as her throat itched raw.

  Danika coughed and heaved. Would she perish with her horse into one large lump of charred flesh? Somehow, the animal’s presence comforted her. Her fingers dug into the beast’s mane and she held on with all her strength as it staggered forward.

  The smoke cleared and Danika straightened in her saddle and gazed down at her still-shining armor. Her horse whinnied in response.

  She was still alive, thanks to Garish and Nip. Her heart fluttered. Where was Bron?

  A sizzling hiss brought Danika’s attention back to the sky. Two more wyverns blazed fiery lines above her with their wrath. She directed her horse toward the incline and crested the ridge, scanning her fragmented army.

  Bron led a battalion of soldiers to the bridge. They rode directly under the wyvern’s path.

  What a brave-hearted fool. “Horred’s Grave!” She spurred forward, knowing she couldn’t reach him in time to drive him off course.

  The two wyverns positioned themselves facing Bron and his men. They breathed their fire in one stream, strengthening the blaze by tenfold. Bron and the others ducked behind their shields in their saddles and Danika held her breath as the flames engulfed them.

  For a moment, fiery red and orange covered the troops. The flames surged then evaporated, disappearing into crackling sparks in the air. The soldiers straightened in their saddles, holding up their swords.

  A roar of triumph erupted from the troops and Danika joined in, pumping her sword in the air. Garish’s armor proved worthy.

  As the wyverns dove and whirled, forming a counter attack, archers took the opportunity to release a wave of arrows. A few shots blessed by Helena’s breath struck one wyvern in the neck. The beast shrieked like a giant bird of prey as it went down beyond the hill.

  The second wyvern landed on its clawed feet, blocking the entrance to the bridge and rumbling the bile in Danika’s stomach. While most of the hatchlings were no bigger than cows, this fully grown wyvern had matured into a gigantic beast that would have towered over Ebonvale’s ramparts, picking off archers with its teeth. Arrows stuck from its wings and back and smoke oozed from its nostrils. The beast brought its head down, horns spiraling backward like ill-grown roots on the crown of its head. It hissed, and steam puffed from its toothy jaws as its claws scratched the cobblestones.

  Bron raised his sword and the other men followed. He shouted a war cry and they charged, the sound of their feet rumbling like thunder.

  On all fours, the behemoth barreled straight for the army.

&n
bsp; A dead wyvern carcass oozing lava-like blood on the broken cobblestones separated Danika from the battalion. She could only watch and pray as the two enemies collided.

  The wyvern opened its jaws as it neared the front lines. Bron’s horse broke from the front lines and took the lead. Danika clamped her arm against her chest, trying to keep her wildly beating heart from breaking through her armor.

  Horred’s Grave, the beast would swallow him whole.

  Bron brought up his sword as the beast’s head came down upon him. Like before, in the cavern with the white worm, he jabbed the tip into its top jaw. The wyvern reared back, bringing its snout up with the sword still stuck through it. Soldiers raced around the beast, slashing at its wings, as Bron held onto the hilt.

  Danika’s heart stopped as he jumped into its mouth, using the bottom jaw as a foothold. Bron shoved the hilt against the beast’s lower jaw. He leaped to the ground as the wyvern shrieked, shaking its head trying to free the sword like a man would do to a toothpick stuck in one of his teeth.

  Bron used the distraction to rally some of the archers. He pointed to the beast’s exposed neck.

  They fired as Bron dug into his boot and pulled out a dagger. He threw the blade in an arc and the tip wedged just below the beast’s jaw. Lava-like blood oozed as the beast took its last wheezing breaths.

  “Back away!” Bron shouted as the snout came down in a steaming heap.

  A dust cloud rose, obscuring the scene. Danika dismounted and climbed the steaming carcass of the wyvern separating her from the one Bron had just killed. The soles of her feet heated to near burning as she slid down the scales on the other side. The stink of sweltering seaweed filled the air. Danika coughed and covered her mouth. She’d never been fond of seared fish.

  The dust cleared slowly to reveal the carnage. The peaceful cobblestone street was now a wasteland. Chunks of road lay between the stinking scaly bodies. Danika scrambled around the debris.

  Soldiers called for their friends and leaned on each other, while healers raced around tending to wounds.

  Danika had dealt with the tragedy of battle since her father began his campaign against the dead army of Sill. She’d witnessed soldiers carrying wounded men missing arms and legs and mourners crowding Ebonvale’s gates shrouded in black, throwing white flowers at the rider-less horses’ hooves.

  But, she’d never experienced the rush of battle and the moment where a person’s fate changed in an instant all because of where he or she stood in the ranks. As much as she believed in destiny, the hand of the gods dealt random blows, and any one of those fallen soldiers could have stood in her place, or she in theirs.

  “Princess, fair you well?” A medic rushed to inspect her.

  She waved him off. “I’m unharmed, thank you. Tend to the others.”

  Bron emerged from the dust like a hero rising from conquering the underworld. Soot covered his body, blackening his armor. But he stood in one piece with no visible wounds. Danika melted into a puddle of relief. She couldn’t run to him in front of the troops, so she stood as still as Helena’s statue and saluted his bravery with a raised hand to her forehead.

  Everyone else on the battlefield, along with the carnage, the horror and the debris, vanished for a moment as Danika locked eyes with Bron.

  He bowed to her. “Princess.”

  Her soul yearned to touch him, to wipe the soot from his brow and bring her parched lips to his, proclaiming her feelings. But he would only push her away.

  Bron knelt before her like a knight before his king. The formality of the gesture iced Danika’s heart.

  “Well done, Bronford Thoridian. You are a true warrior with the heart of a lion and you are an asset to Ebonvale. You served your kingdom valiantly this day.”

  Bron straightened. “My thanks to you, Princess. It was a wise choice to lead us into battle. We have learned much about our failings, tested our armor and discovered their weaknesses, coming out victorious.”

  Danika stepped toward him and lowered her voice. “If five wyverns could do this much damage to our forces, imagine what a horde of them will do.”

  Bron’s face soured and he looked away to the west, to the House of Song, where Valorian rallied his army. “Let’s hope the minstrels will remedy our shortcomings.”

  The unspoken mention of Valorian built a wall between them.

  Danika stepped away. “This will delay us for some time. We must hurry to bury our wounded and move on.”

  Bron’s voice turned melancholy. “Aye.”

  For a moment she thought he’d forsake all inhibitions and reach out to comfort her, even with just a brush of his fingertips on her cheek.

  He blinked, and his stoic composure returned. “I must rally the army. Although this is a victory, we have lost many, and their comrades’ deaths will shake the morale of the men.”

  Disappointment weighed on Danika as she assumed her professional demeanor. Bron was too noble for such a temptation. His sense of honor drew her to him even more. “Do what you must. I’ll aid with the fallen.”

  He approached the jaw of the fallen wyvern, dug inside the steamy teeth and yanked out his sword. Using the horns to hoist himself, Bron climbed the wyvern’s head. Murmurs in the army lulled as Bron positioned himself between the wyvern’s dead eyes and raised his sword to the sky. “Our triumph is due to those who have fallen this day. May the temple priests note their bravery in Ebonvale’s historical archives.”

  A smattering of shouts and applause rose from the dust cloud.

  Bron brought his sword across his chest. “Helena and Horrid lived in a time such as this, a crossroads where man had to take a stand or forever go down as a blink in history to the evils imperiling this land. They gave their lives for our freedom, and we must offer ours for those of our children, nieces, nephews and cousins, and their children’s children. If we succeed this day, the people of our future will thrive and Ebonvale will live on.”

  Bron extended his arm to the soldiers crowding around the wyvern’s head. “Follow me, and together we can bring hope back to a time of darkness. I swear, as Bronford Thoridian the First, I will bring you all to glory whether in this life, or the next.”

  The soldiers cheered, some of them chanting Bron’s name. Danika walked away, consumed with her thoughts. She’d almost lost Bron, and the thought of him being gone tore her apart. Could she stomach yet another battle where her lifelong friend, ally, bodyguard and possible lover could disappear in an instant, leaving her life so empty she didn’t want to carry on?

  If the wyvern corpse hadn’t blocked her way, Danika would have charged headlong into danger, putting the kingdom at risk in a time of flux. Would her people truly follow Muriel upon her death?

  Danika feared losing Bron, but more than that, she feared what she’d risk to intervene on his behalf.

  Chapter 24

  Rogue

  A haze of mist covered Brimmore as Ebonvale’s army marched through streets winding down an incline to the bay. Three-story houses and brightly painted storefronts cluttered the thoroughfare of the continent’s busiest port city. Usually, the congestion of carriages, horses, street performers and peddlers clogged the main artery so thickly it took half the day to carve a path to sea level. Today, the cobblestones lay silent, the windows boarded, and the inhabitants, if they were still there, were huddled inside.

  To Bron, Brimmore seemed like a different city altogether than the one he’d visited six fortnights ago to encourage able-bodied men to compete for Ebonvale’s ranks. Some of the men he’d recruited returned with him now, only to come back to a ghost town. Bron hoped this would give them more reason to fight.

  Danika reined her horse beside him. She’d kept her distance since the battle, and he wondered if he’d done something wrong by performing his duty to the kingdom. She must know his true feelings, even if he couldn’t show them.

  She clicked her visor back, and he caught a glimpse of honey blond hair framing eyes more cold and emerald today than the
warm, meadow-green irises that had peeled his layers away to reveal his heart at her father’s grave. “This does not bode well for our escorts.”

  She talked of Valorian, of course. He was a constant thorn in Bron’s heart.

  “They made it.” Bron nodded to her and steered his own charger away. He refused to believe Valorian and his men dead. If that were true, they’d be next to follow. “Wait and see.”

  They turned a corner and the azure waters of the bay sparkled between the tall buildings on either side of the street. Two carracks bobbed at anchor, each with three masts and a high rounded stern made from giant blackwoods. White sails draped over the rigging, fluttering in the ocean breeze.

  Bron pointed and turned to his men. “Harbingers of our triumph.” Valorian had made good on his word.

  The army cheered behind him. He turned to Danika, expecting the good news to bring a smile to her lips.

  Danika nodded grimly and spurred her horse forward. “Let’s be done with this once and for all.”

  Bron couldn’t fathom what she referred to: the voyage, the battle or meeting Valorian again. He rode in step behind her. How would he feel to see the man who had saved his life again?

  The pier rose up in a giant slab of blackwood, punctuated at even intervals by moorings made of wood posts decorated in seashells and draped in old lobster nets. The ships stood as tall as Ebonvale’s ramparts, dwarfing the men and women in the signature velvet robes of the minstrels who scurried in preparation. Some of them halted mid-step, watching the army with gazes filled with awe and relief as they drew near.

  “Attention. Halt!” Bron shouted, and the army stilled in the next step, falling into rest position.

  The onlookers parted and Valorian came forward. His eyes rested on Danika alone, and his lips stretched into a smile as if she were the only ray of sunshine in a dark, dire time. He wore a reddish leather tunic and a black satin cape trimmed in a matching rose.

  Bron sighed, not impressed. Only minstrels dressed in finery for occasions such as these.