“Won’t they look for us?”
“I think they’ll save the trouble of it until the morning when they’ll have a better chance of spotting us.”
I studied his shadow for a moment, trying to settle the events of the evening in my mind and push away my dread for the long and wretched remainder of the night. I felt sorry for him as he tried to get comfortable beneath his wet blanket on the sodden ground. “I have a suggestion, but I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”
Gideon sat up. Even in the darkness his posture seemed petulant.
“Um.” I stopped and swallowed. “My blanket has managed to stay much drier than yours. With my cloak I’ve got a pretty decent sleeping arrangement. You’ve put yourself through a lot for me already, even though I don’t know why. The least I can do is offer you a dry bed.”
He shifted and exhaled. “I’m not trading, Evie. I’m made of tougher stuff than you.”
“I’m not talking about trading.”
“But you said—”
I gestured for silence, slicing my hand through the air. “I’m talking about sharing. I’ll put my cloak down as a pallet and the blanket is large enough to cover us both.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea and you know it.”
After spreading my cloak on the ground, I stretched the fabric, so I could lie on it without touching damp ground. Then I pulled out the blanket under Nonnie’s saddlebags and flicked it a few times, freeing it of excess hair, but I couldn’t relieve it of her sweat and general horsey smell. Good thing I like the smell of horses.
Reclining, even on the hard ground, felt as good as a feather mattress. I curled up on my side, waiting for him to make up his mind, but even if he didn’t join me, I suspected I would sleep well. As I edged toward the semi-conscious moment between asleep and awake, Gideon shifted and swore. “Move over,” he grumbled.
I smiled, knowing he couldn’t see my self-satisfaction in the dark. Together we stretch my cloak, making room for his large frame. He settled close to me and his body heat under the wool blanket felt like a giant version of the hot water bottle Gerda sometimes stuffed at the foot of my bed on the coldest winter nights. I was too tired and too grateful for his warmth to let his proximity bother me.
“Why do they want to hurt me?” I thought the question had sounded in my head, but it slipped out between my lips before I realized.
For once, Gideon didn’t hesitate to reply, didn’t make answering my question seem like a chore. “You’ll inherit your father’s throne on your eighteenth birthday.”
“And they don’t want me to do that.” It seemed an obvious conclusion.
“Mostly they see opportunity. You are young, still a girl in their eyes. That makes you easy to defeat. If there was ever a time for a revolution, it is surely now.”
“Revolution? What are they revolting against? Was my father really such a horrible king?” I swallowed back my loathing for my father’s faceless subjects, not wanting to accept Gideon’s words as truth.
“Do you really want to know everything, now, at this late hour, when we’re exhausted and hungry and hiding from certain danger? Is this the best place for me to diagram the history of the Stormbourne family for you?”
I considered Gideon’s point for a long, silent minute and resented his sensibility. “No. It can wait. But, you will tell me.”
“Mmmph,” he said in reply.
I lay silent for a long while, fluctuating between anger and frustration, defeat and hopelessness. At some point, fatigue took over, and the relief of a dreamless sleep released me from futile contemplations.
Chapter 4
I awoke before Gideon, unable to ignore the rocks jabbing into my backside any longer. The palest light of dawn stole over us, and my companion resembled a lumpy boulder under his dun colored blanket. I quieted the whoosh of my breath and listened for sounds that might suggest the proximity of our pursuers. Hearing nothing, I relaxed.
The horses had drifted away and nuzzled the barren ground, looking for green bits wherever they managed to poke through the rocks and mud. Their heads were down, ears forward, indicating they also heard nothing suspicious.
As I rose, my rustling brought Gideon awake. He rubbed his eyes and looked at me with a silent question.
“I don’t hear anyone,” I said, hoping he would agree.
He paused and seemed to quiet himself as I had done. “No.” He shook his head. “There’s no one close by, but if we take the road we’ll find them soon enough.”
“So, what do we do?”
He exhaled and his shoulders sagged. “We’ll have to go further east, through the hills, and hope to avoid them. It’s going to add at least another day to our travel time.”
The inclination to apologize tickled my lips, but I held back the words. The conditions of our present situation were not my fault, and I wouldn’t apologize for inconveniencing him when I still didn’t know how we had come to be in this position in the first place. “I have another suggestion.”
“What’s that?” Gideon rose and went to his horse. He crammed a piece of deer jerky in his mouth and chewed as he stuffed his wet things away.
I followed his lead, gathering my blanket and sliding it back in its place. Then I swirled my cloak over my shoulders and pulled the hood over my hair. The rain may have dissipated, but dampness lingered in the air, and the hood held a layer of warm air close to my neck and ears. “We can face them,” I said.
Gideon’s eyes bulged and eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Are you mad? You have no fighting ability, and I can’t protect you and attack three well-trained men at the same time.”
“Do you feel you could fight them if you didn’t have to worry about me?”
His brows slid into a glower. “What do you mean?”
“This cloak might have a few more tricks woven into it.”
He gave me an irritated look that suggested I should quit wasting his time and get to the point.
“I can’t make it work for both of us and the horses,” I said. “The more it stretches, the thinner its effect, but as long as I’m the only one beneath it, the cloak can make me virtually invisible.”
“Invisible? But you’ve been wearing it for two days, and I’ve had no trouble seeing you.”
“There’s been no need for it before.”
“What about last night? You could have used it to come to the village with me.”
I disliked giving away my secrets, but I hated arguing with Gideon even more. “It doesn’t work at night—only in sunlight.”
“How inconvenient.” He grumbled something else, but it was unintelligible.
“It’s not like my grandmother put restrictions on it on purpose. It’s Magic for the gods’ sakes.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to one leg. Huffing, he jutted his chin. “Show me how it works, then.”
I glared at him, though I couldn’t hope to make my expression as stern or as unpleasant as his—he’d had too many more years of practice. The trick to the cloak was in the frog style clasp at the throat. I slid the leather loop sewn to one side over the carved bone toggle attached at the other side. Then I exhaled, twisted the clasp together, and spoke the magic word—my grandfather’s name—on a soft breath only I could hear. “Trevelyan.”
The invisibility wasn’t perfect. The fabric reflected light, and quick motions made it shimmer. The affect changed me into something like a semi-translucent ghost. Contrary to common sense, the cloak worked best in bright, direct sunlight. As the daylight dimmed, the cloak’s original material would darken into its usual, opaque state.
“I can still make out your silhouette,” Gideon said.
“Yes, but it will become less noticeable as the sun rises. From a distance, you would never know I was here.” Even in the short time since waking, the day showed promise of making up for the previous one. Most of the clouds had burned away, and the sky promised a
clear and glorious day. A perfect day, I hoped, for the cloak’s use.
I unfastened the cloak after my quick demonstration. The downside to the cloak’s invisibility was the empty and loose feeling it gave the wearer. It felt as though wind was whistling through my skin and between my rib bones. If I kept the cloak fastened too long, dizziness and nausea would rob my strength and energy.
“Well, that takes care of you,” he said, “but I still have to get past three men, one of whom is the captain of your father’s personal guard.”
“But you brought Sephonie, didn’t you?”
Reflexively, Gideon touched the tip of his crossbow where it poked out from his pack. “I did.”
“Then those men don’t stand a chance.”
He shook his head and turned his attention back to his saddlebags, rearranging its contents. “Your confidence in me might be a bit exaggerated.”
“I’ve seen what you can do with that crossbow. I’m misstating nothing.”
“Then what exactly are you proposing we do?”
I explained my idea, and he chewed on it for a while before offering his critique. “I’m supposed to protect you, not throw you to the lions.”
“Yes, but the Ancients never gave their lion fighters an invisibility cloak or a back-up bow wielder with deadly aim.”
“I don’t like it, but I’ve got nothing better. If we go around the long way in an effort to avoid them, the men will undoubtedly be waiting for us in Braddock. I’m sure they’ve figured out our destination.”
Shortly after his capitulation, I mounted Nonnie and pointed her in the general direction of the road. Gideon and Gespenst caught up to us, and he reined in close. “Thropshire is about thirty miles down the road from here,” he said, pointing in a southward direction. “It’s a big town, and you’ll go unnoticed there even more than you would have in Brighton. Don’t stop. Don’t wait for me under any circumstance. Get to Thropshire and try not to give yourself away. There’s a decent inn there called The Silver Goose. Get to it and get a room. I’ll find you there later.”
He passed me several coins. “This should be enough for the room. Go ahead and order a meal and hot bath, too. If this plan works, I have a feeling I’m going to want both very badly.”
I refastened the Thunder Cloak’s clasp, but refrained from uttering the magic word, saving that for the last possible moment. We had emerged from the little grove of trees to a place where the sunlight burned truer. My cloak had a sufficient energy source to perform its magic in full, now. The stronger light would make my invisibility more infallible.
“This is going to work,” I said. “All they’ll see is a horse with no rider.”
Gideon grunted, but said nothing else. He directed his horse with leg and thigh, his hands now occupied with Sephonie and her ammunition. From his saddlebags, he withdrew a thick leather belt covered in loops and pouches. The loops held a handful of bolts fletched with peacock feathers, and the pouches carried extra magazines already loaded with more modest projectiles. His crossbow was my father’s innovation: a small, lightweight repeating crossbow that strung the bow and reloaded ammunition with a simple, one-handed lever.
I knew so much about this weapon because my father awarded one every year as a special prize for the winner of the archery section during his annual tournament season. Gideon won the crossbow competition last year, easily ousting his well-seasoned opposition. Why had he bothered to deflect my championing of his abilities? That he was a marvel with this weapon was no secret. I understood why Father might have asked Gideon, of all people, to protect me. But I still didn’t understand why he had accepted.
“You’ll go on my word—full gallop,” he said. “Don’t stop.”
“You already said that.” A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. His concern for me was charming.
He narrowed his eyes, urging me to be less glib.
We walked for almost a mile before Gespenst snorted and stuttered in his gait. Gideon patted his neck. “I think we’re close. He doesn’t like strange horses, or strange people at that.”
He pulled the lever that engaged Sephonie’s bowstring and loaded a bolt, but he left the point tipped down at his side and behind his leg, making it less detectable from a distance. “Say your magic words and get ready to run, Evie.”
I gathered my cloak tightly around me and whispered my grandfather’s name as my pulse raced. My heart beat a rhythm of urgency in my chest. Gideon’s eyes bugged and he gasped.
“Told you it would work,” I said.
Gespenst had sensed correctly. At the crest of a short rise, about two-hundred yards ahead, Terrill and his men waited on agitated horses, the beasts reacting to their master’s excitement and anticipation. The men drew their weapons, crossbows as well as rifles. Terrill, at the head, shouted for us to halt.
Low and under his breath, Gideon issued the command to run. I shoved my heel into Nonnie’s flank. She lunged and took off racing. Wind tore at her mane and at my cloak, but it stayed in place and kept me hidden. The men responded with astonished yelps at the sight of an unattended horse charging toward them.
“Where’s the girl?” Terrill yelled. Nonnie’s fast approach upset the men’s horses, and they skittered out of her way, acting against their master’s commands. I squeezed past the group, and they paid me no mind. The men had focused, as we had hoped, on the threatening figure drawing his crossbow behind me.
Even over the wind rushing past my ears and the hammering of my heart, I heard the thwack of Gideon’s weapon as it released a bolt. Moments later, Sephonie’s victim cried out, a terrible howl. The return fire from the men’s rifles sounded like a pack of ravenous dogs. I didn’t look back to see who had received Gideon’s deathly tidings. He would have to give me the details later in the safety of The Silver Goose’s private rooms.
I unbuttoned my cloak as soon as Nonnie and I rode out of view. Fear drove me, while duty and obedience kept her legs pumping over the rutted and muddy road. We left the path from time to time to avoid the sloppiest, hoof sucking sections, and I hoped the journey wouldn’t abuse her too much. At Fallstaff, Gideon had made me groom Nonnie, but he had her shod along with the rest of Fallstaff’s horses, and I didn’t know the last time she had seen the farrier.
Nonnie and I eventually slowed to a walk. The days of solid travel and poor sleep had dwindled our energy reserves. It might have been only our third morning on the road, but we were accustomed to casual romps around the estate, typically undertaking our adventures on full bellies and returning at night to plush sleeping arrangements.
I would have given my eyeteeth to have the treatment formerly given to my beautiful mare in our stables: a soft bed of clean hay and a solid, dry roof. Even a bag of oats sounded good. With hot water I could have made porridge—bland but filling. The rabbits from yesterday’s breakfast were long gone, and I regretted not asking for a piece of Gideon’s jerky.
We rode throughout the morning without a sign of Gideon. How long should it take an expert archer to dispatch a small band of men? Only at that thought did I consider how Gideon might have come to possess such skills. His station as horse master required no mastery of lethal abilities. Distracted in my musings, I had allowed Nonnie to tug us off the path toward a stream. I dismounted and knelt to fill my water jugs, but my body moved automatically while my mind puzzled the mysteries of my father’s horse master, but too many pieces were missing to make a complete picture.
The caws from a passing flock of crows startled me from my musing. I climbed on Nonnie’s back, and we started off again. For the rest of the journey to Thropshire, I anticipated the pounding hooves of Gespenst catching up to us. Any horse racing after me could have belonged to my enemy, as well, but I refused to humor that possibility—it was too frightening.
I only realized I had spurred my horse into a trot when the saddle bumped and jostled against my sore rear end. After adjusting my seat, I maintained our pace until we crested a final hill. When I spotted the
sprawling village of Thropshire in the valley below, I leaned forward, shifting into a posture meant for a faster gait but checked myself before I nudged Nonnie into a gallop. Gideon had warned me to keep my presence covert. Can’t very well do that thundering into town square, can I?
“C’mon girl.” I stroked her neck and eased our pace into a gentle walk. “Just a little bit further. Then, I promise, we’ll both get some rest.”
Chapter 5
A bedraggled wagon, driven by a haggard old man, passed me on the road leading to town. He held the reins of two moth-eaten drovers who plodded along in unhurried determination. The old man tugged the edge of his broad-brimmed hat in greeting.
I smiled back, but then ducked my head to keep my features hidden. Once Nonnie and I passed the wagon, I removed my cloak and tucked it away in my saddlebag. At home, the villagers recognized my cloak almost before they recognized me, and I never went without it except on the hottest days. If anyone were on the lookout for me, the cloak would have made an obvious descriptor.
The trip into town took longer than I’d estimated. By the time we reached the first outlying homes, the day had passed into late afternoon. I asked a woman carrying a basket of folded laundry for directions to The Silver Goose. She pointed to one of the cross streets near the entrance to town and told me to look for a large, whitewashed building with black shutters and a goose shaped shingle hanging in the front yard.
The inn was handsome, if not a little worn around its edges. I refrained from thorough scrutiny because, compared to another night on the cold, hard ground, this place looked fit for a princess, such as myself. After tying Nonnie to a hitching post, I followed my nose to the small dining room on the ground floor.
A sour aroma, pungent scents from proofing dough and spilt beer, greeted me even before I opened the door. The lesser fragrance of roasting beef complimented the yeasty smell, and my stomach grumbled. A stout, bald man wiped tables while an equally solid but taller woman crossed the room toward me. A white kerchief covered her graying hair, but she carried a heavy wooden tankard in each hand as if they weighed no more than teacups. She set the drinks in front of two men who nodded and mumbled thanks.
Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
