by Serena Chase
We crossed a small stream. A tingle of something strange lifted the hairs on my neck, but I kept my eyes forward, anxious to locate the fire and see how we could best help the family. Risson rode first, followed by Julien—whom I avoided looking at directly—and Gerrias, who rode at his brother’s side in front of me. Kinley was on my right, Erielle my left, and the Andoven men followed behind us. The trees were thick to either side of the path, which was wider on this side of the stream, as if traveled often. This was, most likely, the nearest source of water to the farm.
Without warning, Gerrias’s horse screamed and reared on its hind legs. Gerrias kept his seat, but the horse jolted and let loose another horrific sound.
“Archer, aloft!” Julien cried.
I gasped. An arrow had pierced the right flank of Gerrias’s horse. Another was embedded in its neck. Gerrias dismounted just before his horse collapsed, a third arrow having punctured its chest.
“Get down!” Julien yelled back at me, but Kinley was already pulling me off Stanza, using the combination of his body and my horse’s to shield me from the attack.
I turned to make sure Erielle was safe, but she was still atop her horse, bow out and arrow nocked. She gasped and lurched away from her bow just in time to have an arrow slice the air between it and her face.
But Julien was faster than Erielle could re-aim. I saw only a flash of reflected sunlight as a dagger left his grasp and headed high into the trees, where it elicited a grunt. A spare moment later, a man fell from his perch.
“Circle up!” Julien ordered as he raced to the base of the tree.
The horses were skittish, moving around Gerrias’s blank-eyed, unbreathing mount. Gerrias took Stanza’s reins from my hands and stepped in front of me, allowing Kinley to guard me from the rear position. Kinley’s horse was so close I could feel his breath on my neck as we made our way to the tree under which the enemy archer lay bleeding.
Julien’s sword was pressed against his throat, but the man did not seem disposed to anwering any of his questions. If the amount of blood soaking through the man’s tunic and into the ground was any indication, the dagger wound in his chest was mortal. Julien’s sword was hardly motivation to speak when death was so near.
Julien looked at me. “Can you look into his mind to see if there are others?”
“Sir Julien,” Dyfnel admonished, “I must protest. What you ask of her is entirely unethical.”
Edru nodded. “A complete breech of Andoven etiquette.”
“This is war,” Julien replied. To me he added, “But I understand if you refuse.”
“I will try.” I looked in the archer’s eyes and sought his mind.
“He’s alone,” I said finally, taking a deep breath as I processed the colors, emotions, and scenes playing out from his thoughts into mine. “There were five others with him. They left a few hours ago, heading west. He stayed behind to hunt, with plans to meet up with them later. He’s from Dwons. They all are. Dwonsil warriors. They came upon the farm by accident.” I gasped on what I saw next in his memory. My hand fluttered to my lips. “They killed—”
“That’s enough,” Julien said. His command and the pressure of his hand on my shoulder broke my connection with the warrior and saved me, thankfully, from watching this man and his fellow warriors attack an innocent family.
Just like other Dwonsil warriors had done years before at Glenhume.
A gurgling sound pulled my eyes back to his face. A moment later his head lolled, and when I sought his mind again, it was if he had disappeared, leaving only a shell behind.
Kinley shook his head. “I do not envy his next journey.”
“We are not to judge,” Dyfnel said, though his tone spoke agreement. “Only the man himself and Rynloeft know where he goes from here.”
“Julien!” Erielle hissed.
Without waiting for his reply, she pulled her sword from its sheath, ran back to the path, and crossed it into the woods. The tiny bit of sound she made was no more than what a rabbit or a squirrel might create, and even as my heart pounded, I mused that her quiet grace was likely a product of growing up in the Great Wood of Mynissbyr.
Suddenly she stopped. After a moment of complete stillness, she took a few steps back and looked around. Again, she stilled, her gaze pausing on something a few yards from where she stood. After a moment more, she turned and ran straight to Julien, as quietly as she had left.
“A woman,” she said. “Dead. Arrow through the neck. And a boy. Dagger in his arm. It’s not a mortal wound, but he’s dead. Cursed, you think?”
Cursed? My blood froze. Had the Dwonsil warriors’ weapons been laced with hairs from a Cobeld’s beard? My lip trembled. What if that arrow had hit Erielle?
“Risson,” Julien said. “How many in the family?”
“Last I knew, the man, his wife, and four children. The youngest was just an infant when I last came through, but that’s been two years or more. The oldest would be . . . near Erielle’s age now, I suppose.”
Erielle’s gaze turned back to where she had discovered the bodies. “That one is younger.” Her voice was steady, but I could tell it took every ounce of her strength to keep it so. “Seven or eight, maybe.”
My heart lurched.
Children. Babies. A family. Would Dwonsil warriors have left any alive?
Perhaps. If they didn’t expect them to survive on their own.
But if they had left some of the small ones, had we gotten here in time? Could we yet save those who may have been left behind to die?
Anticipating the action I didn’t even realize I was about to take, Kinley put a hand on each of my shoulders. “You need to stay here,” he said, stopping my forward motion. “It’s too dangerous.”
“We need to see if there are any survivors.” I removed his hands from my shoulders. “The warriors might not have used weapons on the little ones. They might have left them to die. We have to find them.”
“She’s right.” Julien removed his dagger from the warrior’s chest and wiped it on the man’s trouser leg. He stood and nodded at me. “You stay with Kinley, under guard. Risson, Gerrias, and I will scout in and around the farmstead.”
“I thought you didn’t want us to split up,” I argued. “If my father were here, he would go with you.”
“Your father has been trained as a knight.”
“My father is the King,” I whispered, balling my fists. “You wouldn’t question him if he chose to accompany you.”
“And that, my dear sister, is where your argument goes south,” Kinley said, his voice kept low. “You might outrank Julien in nobility, but the King outranks you. And it was he who not only placed Julien in leadership of this quest, but ordered us to protect you above all else.”
“We’re near enough the farmstead now that we can return quickly if there is trouble,” Risson added. “There is no reason for you to put yourself in danger.”
“But I could use my Andoven abilities to help locate survivors!”
“As can Edru.” Julien nodded, his eyes still locked with mine. “You will stay here. Under guard. Edru?” He turned. “Will you come with us?”
“Of course. But . . .” he paused. “My ability to see into the thoughts of those not of Andoven ancestry is not . . . strong.”
“See?” I threw up my hands. “You need me along.”
“No.”
“No?” I lowered my hands. They clenched into fists at my sides. “In my father’s absence, your orders come from me. This is the fealty you vowed, is it not?”
The reassertion of my birthright wasn’t accompanied by the zing of purpose I expected to feel, yet each word seemed to lift my chin a small measure higher.
Julien’s nod was stiff, but his tone, even whispered, remained annoyingly calm and even. “My sworn fealty to you does not usurp my pledge to see to your safety. Nor does it overrule my vows to your sovereign father and his Kingdom.”
He looked beyond our position to the path we had left. When
he spoke again, his tone was bland, betraying none of the emotion I’m sure would have colored his thoughts if I had sought them, but I was too angry to want that close a connection to him right now.
“Since you have chosen to take authority of our company, Your Highness,” Julien said tightly, “you might also take a moment to decide which of us will ride two astride when we leave this place. As I’m sure you are aware, we are now one horse less than we are rider.”
Guilt stained my cheeks as my eyes moved from the dead horse, a rare Alvarro like Salvador, to his rider. Gerrias’s eyes, however, were trained unseeingly toward a random tree.
I tried to imagine in that instant how I would feel if Stanza were killed by an enemy. A shudder threatened my heart, but I stood still.
I would make amends with Gerrias for the loss of his horse. Somehow. But grief for the loss of a horse could not compare to protecting one of E’veria’s little ones.
“We are wasting time that could mean life or death to a child!”
“You are wasting time. I am attending to your father’s wishes.” The green in Julien’s eyes seemed to deepen in color. “If necessary to safeguard your person, Your Highness,” the emphasis on my title could not help but be noticed this time, even at this low volume of speech, “I will not hesitate to have you restrained.”
Anger opened my mouth in a little gasp. He wouldn’t!
“I am the Ryn!” I spat, but the title fell flat and meaningless against even my own ears.
Julien closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Please, Rynnaia.” He was silent for a long moment, but when he opened his eyes, his tone was softer, gentler, and it tugged the stubborn strands of my will. “Please allow us to attend our sworn duty. Stay here with Kinley while we assess the threat.”
Just then, a high-pitched cry, like that of a panicked child, rent the air.
I turned toward the sound. “Dear Rynloeft, no!” And without another thought, I barreled through my companions and ran toward the sound.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The first thing that hit me as I passed into the farmyard was the unexpectedly strong smell of animal urine, so pungent where I stood that it nearly overpowered the putrid smoke of two dying fires that had once presumably been a house and a barn. The second thing to hit me was . . . Gerrias.
He shoved me from the side as another high-pitched scream pierced the air, but this one was closer, and at this range, even I couldn’t mistake it for human. I flew through the air and landed against a tree with a grunt, righting myself just in time to see the flash of Erielle’s dagger as it spun through the air and into the side of a writhing length of fur, attached by its teeth to Gerrias’s sword arm.
The shock of the weapon’s hit caused the creature to loosen its hold. Gerrias had nearly pulled his arm free when it emitted a screeching growl and latched on again. Even though its size was more like that of a herding dog than the beast we’d met before, its shape, face, and ferocity left no question that it was, in fact, a wolfcat. A young one, to be sure, but its teeth, sunk into my knight’s flesh, were clearly large enough to kill.
“No!” I screamed. Even with Erielle’s dagger sticking out of its side, its strength was frightening and feral. Determined.
Gerrias slammed his left fist between the creature’s eyes and it released its hold, dropping to the ground.
The small beast let out another cry, but it cut off abruptly when Kinley’s sword sliced through its neck.
Blood wept through the punctures in the arm of Gerrias’s tunic and he fell to one knee.
Dyfnel rushed to his side.
My shaking hand lifted to cover my trembling lips.
It should be me on the ground, grimacing in pain, I thought. Me, bleeding.
Had I but listened to Julien, or to Erielle, Kinley, or Gerrias himself, the knight would not be injured. Nay! My pride reached farther back than that. Had I been able to set it aside in favor of my knights’ wisdom, Gerrias would not only be unhurt, but he would still have his horse. We would not have detoured from our quest for the Remedy, rather than consuming time here and putting more E’verians at risk with every moment we delayed.
Regret twisted my gut and stretched its tentacles into my heart. Nearly every member of our group had spoken up against our current action, but I had overruled them all. Me. The one who could not even wield a sword. Had I listened to any one of them rather than the self-important voice of my own foolish pride—had I allowed myself to be guided by the wisdom of my friends rather than the misguided sense of duty that marked me as a fool—
But Gerrias had taken the wound meant for me. Gerrias had put himself in the direct path of that wolfcat to protect his unworthy, bullheaded Ryn.
“Forgive me, Gerrias,” I whispered, though too quietly for him to hear. Yet while the fault, the guilt, rested so heavily upon my chest, I couldn’t seem to find the breath to speak my apology louder.
We shouldn’t even be here. By all rights, his injury should have been mine. I owed him an apology, at the very least. I moved to rise.
“Wait.” Julien ordered.
I obeyed and hung my head.
He knelt in front of me. “Are you all right?”
My head shot up. “Me?”
He brushed a pine needle from my cheek. “You hit the tree pretty hard.”
“I’m fine.” How could he look at me with such gentleness when his brother lay injured because of me? I swallowed and peered around him. “But Gerrias—”
“Dyfnel will see to him. Come.” He offered his hand to help me up. “Can you handle the sight of blood? I’d like us to stay close together.”
I nodded, a bit confused. Hadn’t I just proven that while seeking the thoughts of the dying Dwonsil warrior?
“It’s different when it’s someone you care about,” Julien explained, as if he’d peeked into my mind.
Again, I nodded. How could I refuse to see the result of my pride’s folly?
“The smell of fresh blood could draw more predators if they’re downwind of us,” Julien said softly. “We’ll stand guard around you and Gerrias while Dyfnel binds his wounds. There could also still be villains about. Are you recovered enough to use your Andoven abilities? Could you ascertain if there is a human or Cobeld threat?”
It was the least I could do. Not trusting my voice to speak, I nodded and closed my eyes, sending my consciousness out from our position.
“I don’t sense any unknown colors,” I said finally, but my voice betrayed my fear. “But . . . I’m not . . . sure—”
Could I trust my abilities when I had so flaunted my pride in the face of Rynloeft, from whence they came?
I swallowed. What if The First has blinded my abilities as punishment for my pride? What if he has abandoned me?
That is not his nature, Your Highness.
I turned to face Edru, not realizing until he answered that I had, in fact, posed the question to my teacher.
Edru gave me a reassuring smile before turning his gaze to Julien. “I do not sense an enemy presence, either.”
As we walked to where Gerrias sat, I avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. It was my prideful folly that had injured one of my knights. A knight who had already lost his horse, his trusted companion in battle. Both were important members of our quest. One was dead, the other, terribly injured. I couldn’t bear the thought of the accusations in my friends’ eyes. I didn’t deserve their fealty. Who was I kidding? I didn’t even deserve their friendship.
I deserved neither my gifts, my mother’s blessing, or my crown.
What sort of Ryn was I?
A self-centered, self-important one, that’s what. The worst sort there could be.
But I had to speak to Gerrias. As lacking as words were, I couldn’t let my apology remain unsaid a moment longer. I knelt at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “Gerrias, I’m sorry.”
“Injury is a hazard of the job.” He gave me a weak smile. “I’ve had worse, Your Highness.”
“Please don’t call me that. I don’t deserve the title. Not after the way I acted. It’s my fault you’re hurt. It’s my fault you’ve lost your horse.” My voice clogged with tears. “Gerrias, I’m a terrible Ryn.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Dyfnel spoke first. “We grow and learn from our mistakes, Your Highness. Nothing happens apart from the knowledge of The First. Neither can we make a mistake that he cannot redeem for the betterment of our character . . . if we open our hearts to be changed, that is.”
He lifted his eyes to offer the sympathy of a smile I did not merit, and then, although he turned his attention back to Gerrias’s wound, he said one more thing. “This lesson will make you a better Queen.”
A humbled Queen, perhaps, I thought.
Indeed, Dyfnel answered.
We stayed close together beneath the trees rimming the farmstead while Dyfnel treated the wolfcat bites.
How bad is it? I spoke into Dyfnel’s mind.
The punctures are deep, he said, frowning, but no sinews have been torn. Cleaning the wound will not be pleasant for Sir Gerrias, but it must be seen to twice a day to guard against infection. The bite of a wild animal is no trifling matter.
Will he regain the use of his arm?
In time, Dyfnel said, adding, if no infection sets in. And I will do my best to see that it does not.
The circle around us grew suddenly smaller. I looked up. Julien and Risson had stepped from it, and Erielle, Kinley, and Edru had moved closer to make up for their absence.
“Where are they going?”
“Patrol,” Kinley answered, his voice low. “Looking for signs of the enemy and for . . . survivors.”
Survivors. How swiftly I had put aside my initial impetus to foolishness. How quickly I had forgotten the little ones I had been so anxious to help.
May Rynloeft save E’veria! Had there ever been a more unworthy Ryn?
The vicious animal that attacked Gerrias was only a young wolfcat, perhaps still a pup—or was it called a kit or cub? There might be more of the beasts—it’s mother?—nearby. I couldn’t imagine how, even had a child’s life been spared, he or she might have escaped the predators who could find them simply by scent.
