King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “And she’s seen us,” Jaret replied.

  “Who is she going to tell? There isn’t a house for miles, by the time she reached anyone worth telling, we would already be long gone,” Kyan argued.

  “She has seen us. Surely I don’t have to remind you of the Council’s orders, of the King’s orders?”

  “We were ordered to find a criminal with no description and no name and to leave no trace of our passing. Surely this does not include the sacrifice of our honor?” Kyan asked.

  Jaret seemed to falter slightly, pausing in his advance. His face, which had been stony a moment ago softened just a little. As Kamarie watched him wavering, she was struck by the feeling that she knew this man from somewhere, his face seemed familiar.

  “Here, little one,” Kyan spoke to Kamarie now. “You’re not going to tell anyone you’ve seen us, are you? We mean no harm to you or your companion.”

  It would have been better for Kamarie to agree with him. Kyan had already put a seed of doubt into his comrades’ minds about their orders and their honor, and if she had simply agreed with him, they probably would have faded away into the night. However, Kamarie was already struggling to keep her identity a secret from everyone they met, a task which was taxing her harder than she had imagined. She was tired and she was scared and she was alone, and these men had stepped out of her worst nightmare. She truly believed that she could not trust a word they said, and so she very rashly spoke her mind.

  “No harm? Tell that to the slain families in Peak’s Shadow. I have seen the handiwork of Dark Warriors. Keep your ‘mercy’ and your ‘honor,’ for I have seen that you have none. I will make no pact with you.”

  “Well said,” Jaret grinned. “Well, Kyan, you heard the girl.”

  Kyan’s face dropped in disbelief as Kamarie brandished her sword. He shook his head sadly; he had hoped to convince his comrades not to kill this one, to leave her in peace, but her little speech had ruined any hope of that. He nodded at Jaret.

  “Go ahead then, but make it quick.”

  Jaret advanced towards Kamarie’s position. He moved in absolute silence and astonishing speed; one moment he was moving stealthily along, and the next instant he pounced, his sword coming down at Kamarie’s head with shocking force.

  Kamarie met his sword and held off the blow, barely. She pushed Jaret’s sword away. Her own sword seemed to spring to life on its own as her arm remembered the patterns that she had practiced over and over again. Kamarie blinked and saw the warrior staring down at her with an expression of shock on his face. She had somehow flipped the sword out of his hand and was now holding her blade stretched out, the point resting near Jaret’s throat. He did not look as though he was accustomed to being held at sword point, and he held up his hands in surrender.

  Kamarie was not sure what to do. She could not just lower her sword and let him go pick up his own, for she assumed that her skill had simply caught him by surprise. She did not want to face him when he was on his guard. But she found that neither could she kill him, especially now that he had no weapon.

  An instant later the question was answered for her. Kamarie had forgotten about the other two Dark Warriors. She heard a tiny movement to her left and glanced that way; in that moment Kyan, who had come up on her right side, grabbed her sword arm and wrested the blade from her hand. Too late, she realized her mistake. She let out a single, piercing scream, but it was cut off as the silent, third warrior, who had crept up on her left to distract her, brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on her head in a blow that knocked Kamarie out. She was aware of shooting pain that raced through her skull and, then, blackness.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  From somewhere ahead, there came noises that did not belong in the forest. There was the brief sound of metal striking metal as though sword blades were crashing together. Then there was a short period of silence. Brant and Oraeyn slowed, straining their ears. Out of nowhere they heard a piercing scream that was cut off immediately after it started.

  “That could be Kamarie!”

  Oraeyn looked at Brant, a question in his eyes. Brant nodded his head in answer, and both of them broke into a run. They raced towards the sound, and then proceeded with caution as they approached a clearing ahead.

  Brant laid a hand on Oraeyn’s shoulder, stopping him and pushing him down, closer to the ground. Oraeyn jumped, startled, but he followed Brant’s example without question as he crouched low to the ground.

  “Dark Warriors,” Brant whispered, “three of them.”

  Oraeyn peered cautiously into the darkness as they crept closer. There indeed were Dark Warriors ahead of them on the path. They were dragging a limp body away from one of the great tall oak trees.

  “Now what do you suggest we do, Kyan?” one of the figures asked.

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Raelf, I’m your commander here. You should have killed her instead of knocking her out. If it was dishonorable to kill a woman in combat, it would stain all of us to kill one who is unconscious.”

  “Be quiet, both of you,” a third voice said in an exasperated tone. “We’ll just have to tie her up and take her with us.”

  “That will slow us down, Jaret,” the one called Kyan argued.

  “Then we’ll tie her up and leave her here.”

  Oraeyn saw the face of the prisoner and his eyes widened. He made to stand up, but Brant’s hand on his arm kept him down.

  “Brant, it’s Kamarie.”

  “And charging in there and getting killed is not going to help her. They’re still arguing about what to do with her, which means she’s alive. We have to be smart about this, there’s three of them. On my signal,” Brant said to Oraeyn in a hushed whisper, “you stay here, I am going to circle around and catch them off guard.”

  Oraeyn nodded wordlessly, and Brant slid off into the darkness. Not for the first time, Oraeyn was amazed at how quietly Brant could move. The man was a shadow, for all the noise he made. It was not just when he was trying to be quiet either, Oraeyn suddenly noted; Brant moved with the same quiet stealth even when they had been running, even when they were traveling along in broad daylight. Oraeyn did not have much time to marvel, however, for Brant was already in position.

  Brant made a twig crack beneath his foot, and all three of the Dark Warriors looked up from their argument in his direction. Oraeyn, recognizing Brant’s action as the signal, raced as quietly as he could towards the warriors. Brant came rushing out towards them as well. When the warriors saw their two attackers, they put up a good fight, but they had been taken by surprise. Brant ran his sword through the one who had argued for tying Kamarie up and leaving her, and Oraeyn managed to stab the other one in the leg. The one called Kyan turned to face Brant and stared directly into his face. His own visage drained of all color and he did the one thing that Oraeyn never would have expected him to do; he grabbed his wounded comrade by the arm, and together they turned and fled into the night. Oraeyn stood watching them run, his sword lowered and his mouth hanging open in surprise. Brant also watched the warriors as they fled, but there was no look of surprise on his face. When they had checked the area to make sure that there were no more Dark Warriors hiding in the shadows to jump out at them, they turned their attention to the princess.

  Oraeyn lifted her shoulders off the ground and laid her head in his lap. “Kamarie!”

  Her eyes were closed, and for a moment Oraeyn was afraid that she was not breathing. He put his ear to her lips and was relieved to note that she was, in fact, breathing, though shallowly. She was very still and did not move or wake when he called her name a second time.

  “She received a blow to the head,” Brant said, “she will recover.”

  “Why were they tying her up?” Oraeyn asked, glad to hear that Kamarie was going to be all right. “Why didn’t the Dark Warriors kill her?”

  Brant shook his head. “I have no idea. Perhaps Kamarie will tell us when she awakes.”

  Or
aeyn was not going to let Brant get away with any flimsy explanations this time, and he burst out in an accusing tone, “You know why the Dark Warriors won’t face you in combat, you know what questions they wanted to ask Kamarie, why won’t you tell me? Are the Dark Warriors after you? You told the King you thought this whole invasion is because of you. Why would you say something like that unless you were absolutely convinced that you were right? Who are you, really?”

  Brant’s face became dark as Oraeyn spoke. When the young man stopped yelling long enough to take a breath, Brant spoke in a voice of control and quiet anger, “I have my reasons for not telling you the whole truth. Suffice to say that you are right, about some things. I don’t know if those three wanted to question Kamarie, or if they simply couldn’t face the dishonor of killing a woman. Honor is very important to the Dark Warriors, despite their actions against your country, they do have honor... most of them, anyway.”

  “What do you mean, ‘your country’? Isn’t it your country too? How do you know so much about them? Everything you say sounds like a half-truth. It’s our lives you’re risking, and you don’t even have the decency to tell us the truth. I don’t know what the truth is, but I know it’s not the bits and pieces you’ve told us.”

  “You speak of things you do not understand, could never understand,” Brant’s voice was sharp.

  “Of course I don’t understand! You won’t explain it to me!”

  Brant merely looked at him, but the look silenced Oraeyn. The young man stared down at the ground, not sure what to say, but refusing to apologize for his questions. He was ashamed of his outburst though, and set about busying himself with setting up camp. When he dared to look up again, Brant seemed to have forgotten the whole incident.

  “Help me move her over onto these blankets,” Brant said in a friendly tone. “Gently now, be careful!”

  They spread out their bedrolls and extra blankets, arranging them into a soft bed, and then laid Kamarie onto it. Brant broke his own rule about not having a fire, and then he went hunting. He came back with a pheasant and two rabbits, which he cooked over the small fire. The two men ate quietly, but the silence was not an angry one. Brant glanced in concern over at Kamarie, who still lay unmoving.

  Oraeyn caught the worried expression. “She is going to be all right, isn’t she?”

  “She has been asleep for longer than I expected.”

  “But she will be all right,” Oraeyn said again, needing reassurance.

  “I don’t know.”

  Oraeyn’s shoulders slumped. Then Kamarie moaned and began muttering feverishly. Oraeyn and Brant hurried to her.

  “The shadow-lark,” Kamarie muttered. “Yole, I’m sorry.”

  “How could we have forgotten about Yole?” Oraeyn closed his eyes, mortified. “Do you think he’s still nearby?”

  Brant stood up and walked around the area, scanning the signs quickly, then he pointed. “He went through there.”

  Oraeyn looked to where Brant was pointing. “Into the thicket? Why?”

  “They must have known that something or someone was following them. Kamarie probably told Yole to go through there and find a safe place to hide. She knew that she would have a better chance if she only had to protect herself, and she couldn’t have fit through there. They probably had a signal set up so that Yole would know if he should come back or continue on alone,” Brant said.

  “But we don’t know the signal,” Oraeyn spoke quietly.

  “Maybe the call of a shadow-lark?”

  Oraeyn tried it a few times, but there was no answer. He kept it up until his lips were too tired to whistle any longer, and then he gave up. There was no sign of Yole.

  “I am afraid that Yole will have to go on alone. We cannot continue until Kamarie is back on her feet, and we cannot go searching for the boy because neither of us is small enough to follow him in the direction he went,” Brant said.

  Oraeyn opened his mouth to argue that they could not just let the young boy wander towards the Harshlands alone but found that he could not come up with a single better idea. He tried calling Yole’s name a few times, but if the boy could hear him, he was not coming out until he heard Kamarie’s signal. Oraeyn fell silent again. He stared off in the direction that Yole had gone, hoping that the boy would be all right and that Kamarie would be all right.

  Kamarie woke the next day and surprised even Brant with the speed at which she recovered. In spite of the serious blow to her head, Kamarie was able to rise and walk. Although dizzy and disoriented at first, after a good meal and some additional rest, she was soon back to her old self.

  Brant allowed Kamarie to rest for two days, knowing that she was not up to traveling until she regained some of her strength and confidence. Brant and Oraeyn needed rest as well, since they had been setting a fast pace and were more worn out than either would care to admit. On the morning of the third day since the attack, they were all restless. Oraeyn and Kamarie got into a pointless argument at breakfast, and Brant commented to himself that it was good to see Kamarie had regained her fire.

  After they had finished eating, Kamarie said, “Brant, I can continue traveling now. I have cost us two days already, and I don’t want to delay us further.”

  “Are you sure? I had planned to allow one more day for rest.”

  “If we remain here for another day I will either go crazy or Oraeyn and I will kill each other.”

  “All right,” Brant said, smiling faintly. “If you are well enough to argue with Oraeyn again, then you are well enough to travel. Let’s get moving.”

  At that, Oraeyn felt like dancing and cheering. He threw himself into cleaning up the camp with an energy he had not known he possessed. The atmosphere improved now that they could finally look forward to continuing their journey. When their campsite was concealed they made their way through the great southern forest towards the Harshlands. Their concern now turned to Yole, but there was nothing they could do except hope he made it to the Harshlands safely.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The remaining band of Cove People huddled together under the shelter of a massive rock overhang carved in the ravine pass of the Mountains of Dusk, waiting for the violent storm to pass so that they could once again continue towards Ayollan. They had decided to offer their help to the King. They had faced the Dark Warriors and were determined to help Aom-igh in the coming battle. They also had vital information that the coming attack would not be a simple frontal assault, but that there was at least one party creeping up on the castle from behind. They traveled with swiftness borne of desperation, knowing the urgency of their information while fearful of being overtaken by the enemy behind. Traveling through the ravine pass when the storm hit, the air turned bitter cold and the wind sliced through them like an icy blade as the driving rain chilled them to the bone. The punishing gale was unknown to people who had so long lived in the beautiful warmth of Pearl Cove.

  They had been traveling for days, bearing their wounded on drags: beds that were held together with light poles and covered in soft leaves and blankets.

  Rena sat curled up in a back corner, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. She held her daughter, Kaitryn, on her lap and rocked the little girl back and forth, singing quiet lullabies between her tears. Kaitryn had neither spoken nor eaten since leaving their home.

  After sending their families ahead, with promises of seeing them again, the defenders of Pearl Cove awaited the onslaught from the Dark Country. These men were not warriors by training, but neither did they lack courage, and they fought well while buying their families time to escape. Some of these men were able to keep their promise, but most were not. As they returned, Rena had run to greet them, anxious to find her husband, but her eyes found only sadness. One of the men brought her news that Wessel was gone. He was pierced with several arrows after bringing down many Dark Warriors in his fight. She kept reliving the exact moment when she had been told of her husband’s death. She could still he
ar the words ringing in her head, could still see the expression of sympathy and compassion on the face of the one who had brought her the hard news. The grief that welled up within her and threatened to overwhelm her still throbbed as though she had been pierced with those same arrows. Her mind and soul revolted at the reality that Wessel was gone. That had been a terrible day; only a few of the men had survived what was already being called the “Defense of the Cove.” The following days were filled with grief and sadness as the families who, like Rena, ran with hopeful greeting in their hearts and found only emptiness. A fog descended on them, and they trudged forward only because they could not go back.

  Rena found the task of telling Kaitryn that her father was not coming back to be the hardest thing she had ever done. She returned to the spot where Kaitryn was playing and told her, very gently, that Wessel had not come back with the others. Kaitryn looked up, a big smile on her face.

  “Daddy’s still fighting the bad men who attacked us from the sea,” the little girl said, a note of childish pride in her voice. “He’ll join us when the enemies are all gone and can’t come bother us anymore, and then we can go home!”

  The child’s words broke Rena’s heart all over again. “No, Kitry,” she said in a choked voice, “Daddy’s not coming to join us, not ever again. And we’ll never go home, we’ll have to find a new home, I’m sorry, darling, I…” Rena knew she was babbling, that her words made no sense, but she could not seem to gather them in, and she could not stop the flow of words. It was the look on her daughter’s face that stopped her.

  Kaitryn stared up at her, confusion and hurt on her face. “But he promised,” she cried out in distress, her lip starting to tremble, “he promised he’d come! He always keeps his promises!”

  Rena nodded, feeling her throat close up tightly with emotion as she tried to find the right words that would somehow explain the situation and make everything all better. “I’m sure he tried harder than anything to keep his promise, Kitry.” Her voice broke in the middle of the sentence, and the tears she had valiantly kept at bay poured down her face.