‘Well then,’ said Ravian, deciding he would have a private talk with the Bolstenian prince later, ‘I’m sure that there is more to your life than riding and hunting. What else does the heir to the throne of Bolstenia do with his time?’
As he described his training to be ruler of the small kingdom, the young man showed a quick wit and a ready sense of humour that impressed Ravian. He could tell that Lectus was equally charmed and decided that Bolstenia would be in good hands when Pinnius inherited the throne. Later in the evening though, despite some evasive manoeuvring on the part of the younger prince, Ravian was able to corner the king’s son discretely out of earshot of any of the other guests.
‘All right, Young Man,’ Ravian growled. ‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’
‘I’m sorry about earlier today, Prince Ravian – really I am,’ Pinnius pleaded. ‘Please don’t tell my father. He would be furious.’
‘Why?’ Ravian pressed him. ‘Because you fired arrows at a visiting delegation? Oh, but it wasn’t you, was it? It was your companion. Who is she?’
‘I’m sorry, Prince Ravian. I can’t tell you.’
‘It wouldn’t have been your sister, the mythical Princess Karrala, by any chance would it?’
Pinnius looked at him directly and Ravian thought he saw a haunted look in the youth’s dark eyes.
‘I have no sister, Prince Ravian,’ he said. ‘Surely my father has told you that.’
‘You have no sister,’ Ravian said. ‘But surely you had a sister once?’
‘I’m sorry, Prince Ravian, but I can’t discuss this,’ Pinnius said. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted from the day’s hunting and I think that I shall retire.’
Pinnius twisted away from him and was gone.
Ravian and Lectus had the best guestrooms in the castle, the Tarcun prince’s, as he had discovered that afternoon, offering a fine view across the rolling green valley to the mountains. He summoned his advisor to meet him there straight after dinner.
‘All right, Lectus,’ he told the courtier, ‘get your spies digging! There’s something going on around here that we to know more about. Ask your people if Princess Karrala ever existed and, if she did, what has happened to her.’
‘But, Your Highness,’ Lectus grumbled, ‘you said we would leave tomorrow. Do you really care about the royal family intrigues of such a paltry kingdom?’
‘Intrigue is the word, Lectus – and I must confess that I am intrigued. Besides, it’s a very pleasant little kingdom and there is no harm in enjoying the hospitality of King Postus for a few more days.’
The following morning, Lectus reported to the prince before heading out on his intelligence-gathering mission.
‘I imagine that I will be away for most of the day, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘Do you have any plans yourself?’
‘Well,’ Ravian replied, ‘it’s pleasant enough weather and I don’t fancy wasting it being cooped up inside. I thought that I might take a ride up into those hills to the south.’
‘A splendid idea, Your Highness,’ Lectus agreed. ‘I’ll detail a couple of the men from the guard to accompany you.’
‘Actually, Lectus, after all these months at sea – and despite the conviviality of the company – I think that I’d like to be on my own for a while. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do – about Princess Flamina, among other things – and I’d really value some time to myself.’
Ravian could see that Lectus was in a dilemma. The courtier was obviously concerned for the safety of the prince, but he also wanted to give Ravian time to reconcile himself to his marriage to the Delenian princess.
‘Very well, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘On your own, it shall be then – but, please, be careful.’
As Ravian cantered his horse across the valley plains towards the southern foothills, he revelled in his first moment of solitude for months. The air was cool and clear as he followed a well-defined trail into the morning-shadowed hills, the way steadily becoming steeper as his mount climbed higher. Periodically, he stopped to admire the view back into the valley, deciding that Trebedan really was quite a beautiful and charming place.
The trail seemed to become narrower and less travelled the higher it went, and the small farmhouses that Ravian occasionally passed became fewer and further between. The sun was well overhead, and the going had become hot and dusty, when he finally crested the top of the ranges to be confronted with a breathtaking view that, he decided, more than justified his effort.
Behind him, the hills fell away into the fertile valley of Trebedan while, ahead, a series of mountain ranges – some of their highest peaks still mantled with remnants of the previous winter’s snow – stretched towards the southern horizon. Beyond the ranges, Ravian thought that he could just make out the flat lands of Survene and he knew that a road – impassable during the winter months – ran through the mountains between the two countries.
He frowned then, thinking about the visit they had made to Survene and how, despite offering one of his daughters in marriage to the Royal House of Tarcus, King Decrastes’ attitude had been so decidedly offhand. Ravian remembered that Survene had been a close ally of Dekane during the Great Sea War and now he began to suspect that Groinya might have made overtures of his own to the Survenian ruler. The prospect of a fresh alliance between Survene and Dekane was not an appealing one, he decided.
The trail that he was following eventually led him across a razorback, with steep cliffs falling away on both sides, and then into a verdant hollow beneath a craggy high point. Here, he found a small, lush meadow, perched on the edge of a cliff in the shade of some old olive trees.
‘A perfect place for a rest,’ he thought to himself, the south-facing view as spectacular as any he had seen that morning.
Ravian tethered his horse and, sitting down with his back against a gnarled tree trunk, he admired the panorama of the southern range spread out before him. Lectus had made sure that he had been provided with a lunch and a small skin of wine and, finishing both of these, the prince felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy. Surrendering to the delicious drowsiness, he let his eyes close and allowed himself to sink into a peaceful slumber.
He was disoriented for a few moments when he awoke, expecting to find himself in his bunk aboard Sea Eagle, surrounded by the sounds of the ship and the sea. Instead, he found himself on a mountaintop with the sound of shepherd pipes in his ears and, as he remembered where he was, he looked around for the musician.
She sat, legs crossed elf-like, atop a rock on the other side of the dell, her wistful notes floating out over the valley of Trebedan. Her back was to him but he was able to admire her bare brown shoulders and arms, and the wild mane of dark, curly hair that tumbled to her waist. Even from behind, her simple peasant tunic emphasised her slender but womanly shape.
She completed the tune, lowered the shepherd pipes, and Ravian saw her shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh that made him wonder at the sadness in her. Then, as she came to her feet with feline grace and began to walk along the valley rim in his direction, he saw strong, even features tinged with melancholy. She was pretty rather than beautiful, he decided, but there was something undeniably alluring about the proud set of her chin and the way that she carried herself.
Ravian found that he was only mildly surprised that she was the same girl who had fired the arrow close to him the previous day and, as she walked by his place of accidental concealment, he stepped into the afternoon sun.
‘Princess Karrala, I presume?’
There was no maidenly gasp of surprise, no dramatic clasping of hand to breast. Instead, the girl dropped into a combat-ready crouch, a dagger of a peculiar white metal appearing in her hands as if by magic.
‘No,’ she replied, in a voice that confirmed to Ravian that she was Prince Pinnius’s companion of the day before. ‘That is not my name.’
‘Really?’ Ravian replied with a smile. ‘What is your name then, if I may ask? I don’t believe that we were
properly introduced yesterday – I’m Ravian.’
She straightened slightly, lowering her dagger, but her face was defiant.
‘My name is Lefia,’ she replied.
‘Lefia?’ Ravian mused, the name vaguely familiar.
Then he laughed when he realised where he had heard it before.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Lefia, the woodland nymph.’
The girl made no reply.
‘Well,’ Ravian continued, still smiling, ‘it’s the first time that I’ve met a real nymph. Is this beautiful spot your particular residence or do you range more widely – such as when you accompany the prince on his hunting expeditions?’
Lefia did not smile back.
‘What I do or don’t do is my concern and mine alone, Tarcun.’
‘Ah,’ said Ravian, ‘so you do remember me?’
The girl was silent and Ravian sensed her confusion at giving herself away.
‘It’s quite remarkable really,’ Ravian pressed on. ‘Now that I see you close up, the resemblance between yourself and Prince Pinnius is most striking. Do people never mistake you for brother and sister?’
‘The Prince has no sister,’ she replied in a flat voice.
Ravian decided to change the subject.
‘That was a beautiful tune you were playing,’ he told her. ‘Beautiful but sad, I fancy. Does it have a theme?’
She shrugged.
‘Love denied – love lost,’ she said off-handedly. ‘The usual for a sad tune, I suppose.’
‘Ah yes,’ Ravian said and, despite himself, he gave a small sigh. Belice was still, often, on his mind.
Lefia’s eyes softened slightly and she sheathed her dagger.
‘Anyway, Tarcun, what brings you to my hills?’
‘Your hills?’ he asked.
‘Yes, this is where I live.’
‘Well...um...Lefia,’ he said. ‘I simply went exploring and found myself following the trail here.’
‘And got a good look at the lay of the land between Bolstenia and Survene while you were at it?’ Lefia prompted.
He shrugged.
‘Perhaps, but it wasn’t my intention to spy – I have people to do that for me,’ he told her frankly. ‘No, I really just wanted to have a look around – it really is quite beautiful up in these mountains.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ she said and smiled slightly for the first time. ‘It will give you some pleasant memories to take with you when you leave tomorrow.’
‘I didn’t say that I was leaving tomorrow.’
‘Are you not?’ she asked. ‘There is nothing in Trebedan for you to linger for.’
‘So I believe you’ve already said,’ Ravian replied, ‘but I’m not so sure about that. I would very much like to meet the mythical Princess Karrala who seems to have vanished into thin air.’
‘You’re wasting your time, Tarcun,’ she said, and the smile was gone again. ‘There is no Princess Karrala.’
She turned and made to walk away.
‘Will you show me where you live?’ he asked.
She stopped and pivoted.
‘I told you, I live here,’ she replied, as though he was being obtuse.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean, would you show me your house?’
Her chin tilted and she shook back her hair.
‘Tarcun, I live alone here,’ she told him. ‘My only protectors are my dagger, my sword and my bow. Forgive me if I choose not to show you my abode.’
Ravian pursed his lips.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll respect your privacy, but do you have any objection to my riding in these hills again? – I’d hate to make a closer acquaintance with your bowshot than I have already.’
She began to frown, but then seemed to smile despite herself. Ravian decided that these hard-won smiles were quite enchanting – worth striving for.
‘If you’ve any sense, you’ll leave the valley tomorrow, but if you are foolish enough to stay, well,’ she shrugged, ‘this kingdom is still relatively free.’
With that, she turned and walked off along the trail and, as she disappeared over a small rise, Ravian’s mind was only half on the strong, shapely legs and feline, rolling hips that were his final view of her. He was beginning to find the mystery of Princess Karrala very intriguing and he decided that he and his party would be in the valley of Trebedan for some time yet.
Returning to the castle before dusk, he found Lectus awaiting him in his room.
‘My people here tell me that there certainly was a Princess Karrala,’ Lectus told him, ‘but she disappeared from the palace a couple of months ago. No one seems to know any more than that apart from – as we have seen – the fact that her father and brother now deny her very existence.’
‘How interesting,’ said Ravian. ‘What do you suppose is behind this mystery?’
‘It sounds very much like banishment to me,’ said Lectus. ‘Whatever it is – and I must say that it has a strong smell of scandal about it – it means that our journey here has been pointless. I think that we should leave tomorrow morning.’
‘No,’ said Ravian. ‘I think we’ll stay a few more days. Keep digging and see what you can come up with.’
Lectus looked at Ravian suspiciously.
‘What are you up to, Your Highness?’ he asked. ‘You can’t put off your decision about Princess Flamina forever, you know.’
Ravian sighed.
‘I understand that perfectly well, Lectus, but I would like to know more, if you can find something out – and I am enjoying the restful nature of this valley.’
‘Hmmm,’ Lectus said doubtfully. ‘Well, I suppose a few more days won’t make that much of a difference. I’ll see what I can do.
Electing to dine alone in his room that evening, Ravian looked towards the southern ranges and thought about the young woman living alone there. It had been a long time since any woman had been in his thoughts so much.
The next day, without asking himself why, he set his horse again on the trail that would take him up into the southern hills.
He found Lefia again in the same dell as he had the previous day although, this time, she did not play her pipes as she sat upon her rock, but seemed to have been awaiting his arrival. Certainly, as he drew his horse up and dismounted, she expressed no surprise at his return and this time, he saw, she carried a sword, slung over her shoulder in the style of the Survenese.
‘Waiting for me?’ he asked cockily.
‘Just waiting,’ she replied. ‘Time seems to stand still up here sometimes.’
‘You seem to be prepared for any eventuality,’ he commented, nodding at the sword protruding from behind her shoulder.
‘One can never be too careful,’ she replied with a grin. ‘I hear tales of marauding Tarcun sailors in these hills.’
He smiled back.
‘And you think that you could defend yourself against such marauders?’ he asked, a hint of condescension in his tone.
Her smile vanished and her lower lip thrust out at the challenge.
‘I could defend myself against three of you at the same time, Tarcun.’
Ravian chuckled.
‘I’m sure you could, Lefia,’ he said, patronisingly.
Her smile returned and she stood up, chin held high.
‘All right, Ravian,’ she said, ‘I haven’t sparred with anybody for some time. Let’s have a little swordplay – or do you need to warm up first?’
Ravian silently cursed himself as he followed her onto a small area of level ground – he wanted to get to know her better, not make her feel foolish. However, he was an excellent swordsman and he knew that he was about to embarrass Lefia with his skills. He drew his sword, a weapon of the finest Tarcun bronze, forged by Aphorstra himself, and decided that he would try to make her feel that she had put up a good fight. Allowing even a low-skilled opponent inside one’s guard could be dangerous, he knew, but he decided that the risk would be worth it.
Lefia drew her swo
rd, and Ravian saw that it was fashioned from the same white metal as the dagger she had brandished the previous day.
‘Begin,’ she said and immediately advanced on him.
He easily parried her first thrusts and then attacked, using his weight and that of his blade to make her give ground. Her white metal sword seemed very light and insubstantial compared to his own and, determined not to embarrass her, he purposely followed too far through on a swing and paused for the tiniest of moments before beginning his recovery. He had expected to have time to easily fend off the thrust that this invited, but, to his astonishment, he found the tip of Lefia’s sword at his throat.
‘Oh come on, Ravian,’ she chided him. ‘You must be out of practice. Too busy sailing the world and shirking your sword drill, eh?’
Ravian flushed – he, Godart and Lectus practised their swordsmanship almost every day.
He had meant to give Lefia a hint of a chance of an opening – not surrender the duel – but now he realised that she was a lot faster than he had thought. Pride demanded that he give her a sound thrashing her and damn the consequences.
They rejoined their combat and in earnest, Ravian using all his strength, speed and skills. Again and again, he forced Lefia backwards before his assault but, each time he thought that he had her, she somehow managed to dance out of his reach at the last moment. She began to laugh at him and, as his temper started to get the better of him, Ravian attacked with increasing ferocity. Instead of trying to parry his wild swings though, Lefia ducked away from them so that, several times, he stumbled forward, dangerously off balance. He began to feel himself tiring and, with a shock, he suddenly understood that Lefia was toying with him – and had been since their swordplay began. Barely had he made this realisation before he staggered forward following a particularly artless swipe, and Lefia ended the contest by deftly stepping in beside him and bringing the point of her weapon to rest beneath his right ear.
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