He scrambled away to his horse, reached into his satchel, and pulled out a small knife. It was old, rusted, and wouldn’t do much, but it was the last thing that belonged to his parents and the only thing he happened to have on him. Blades were expensive.
The branch was a full arm now, poking out from the opening. The arm flexed, reached out into the air, and, finally, sunk back into the darkness.
Alistair waited. He wasn’t sure if he’d be quick enough to mount Fred before the monster decided to come for him again. He was sure that it would be able to out run them in the forest. The land belonged to it, not to them.
Alistair took a shuddering breath. Was this going to be his last stand?
He peered at Fred who stood loyally by his side. Bile rose in his stomach when he realized he had signed both their wills. He gripped the knife with all his strength and just as a high-pitched gasp echoed from the tree, Alistair dove forward, rusty knife at the ready.
The monster crawled out from the tree’s hole. He curved the knife downward. The creature stared up at him with dark hair and blue eyes that reminded him of northern shingles, and smooth pink lips. He twisted his wrist and the knife landed in the tree instead of the young woman’s neck.
She watched him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she glanced from him to the knife he held in his hand.
“Was that for me?” she asked in voice that was scratchy and seemed out of practice.
Alistair’s own chest was rising, as well and he could only nod in response.
She inclined her head. “I scared you?”
“Honestly, miss,” he said, holding in a gulp of air and then releasing it in one big puff. “You’re scaring the life out of me right now and I’m trying to decide if this is a nightmare or if I’ve eaten some spoiled meat.”
There was a small upward movement by the corner of her lips. She started chuckling but quickly stopped and placed a hand on her chest. Her breath began to come out in wheezes.
Alistair looked her over. Her thin fingers were grasping at her chest as she tried to gain air. There were no claws, no red eyes or fangs.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No but I’m better than I’ve been in some time. It just hurts to laugh…and speak.”
Alistair nodded again yet remained silent. Women emerging from trees wasn’t his area of expertise.
Fred walked over to the stranger and nuzzled her hair. She grinned and smoothed her face against his nose.
Alistair tensed and tightened his grip on the knife. He waited for the woman to strike, to puncture Fred with her branches. Nothing happened. Instead, she stroked his nose.
“I love horses,” she croaked.
Alistair reached up to scratch his silver. “Well, he’s always been one for the ladies.”
He expected another chuckle or at least a giggle but her face had lost all emotion. Her eyes were fixated on his right wrist where the bracelet hung.
He peered at the charms. So, this is the young lady you belong to?
“Here,” he said. “I assume this is yours.” He removed the bracelet from his wrist and dropped it in her shaky, open palm.
She clasped it to her chest and closed her eyes as her face distorted. Then, with an unsteady breath and now glossy eyes she turned to him. “What is your name, please, sir?”
“Clark,” he said.
“Clark?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an odd name around here. Are you from another kingdom?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your real name, Clark?”
He stared at her for some time. Then, he sighed and dipped his head to her. “You catch on quickly. Well, my real name I will not give you. There is power in names and I’m still not certain what you are.”
“You mean a witch?”
He hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to believe in witches. No one was anymore.
“What if I give you my name?” she said, continuing the conversation.
She tried to slide the bracelet on her wrist. Her fingers were staggering the effort. She toyed with the charms instead.
He shrugged. “I’ll still be Clark. I still would like to know who nearly scared the soul out of me.”
“All right,” she said. “My name is Robin.”
“Hm.”
“What? Do you not approve?” There was that small turn of her lips again.
“No, it’s not that,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Actually, I think it’s a lovely name, only it’s not common for this day and age.”
Her fingers froze. The charms became stagnant. There was a tense silence before she said, “And what day and age is this exactly?”
Alistair’s eyes darted between Robin and the tree. The tree was thick and large with twisted branches that stretched out into the branches of its kin. Robin, in contrast, was small with some height to her. But the way she gripped the charms, the way her eyes had begun to flatten when she looked at Alistair…she was reaching out just like the tree, only not with branches this time.
“The year is four ninety, miss.”
She stared at him. Then, Robin’s back arched forward and she released a choking gasp that brought streams of tears down her cheeks. She pressed the charms to her and heaved out hoarse sobs as her shoulders shook.
Alistair moved towards her but stopped and stepped back. He glanced at Fred and raised a brow. The horse stepped beside Robin and nuzzled her hair again as she wept.
If she wanted us dead, I guess we’d be dead by now. Unless she’s a patient witch.
He shook himself. His uncle Garron would have his head if he saw him now. A young lady was crying and he was standing frozen like a frightened child. Tree lady or not, she had done him no harm.
Alistair kneeled beside her and slowly pulled her into his arms. She seemed to barely notice. She didn’t flinch or tense. She only fell and continued to sob.
“It’s all right, miss. Whatever it is that’s ailing you, you’re not in the tree any longer and that’s good news, isn’t it?” He had pushed her to his chest and was rubbing her arms. She cried for several more minutes and then her weeping turned into silence. He tried to look down at her, praying she hadn’t fallen asleep from exhaustion but her face was turned into his neck.
“You are a kind man, Clark,” she said without looking up. “You’ve freed me from my prison, answered all my questions, and even comforted me. Still, I’m afraid I must call on your kindness again.”
He nodded. “First, I didn’t free you. I’m not sure how you got out. However, I’m more than willing to assist you. What can I do?”
“I need you to take me to King Terryn’s capital, Camelot.”
Alistair paused, his motions of comfort coming to a halt.
How does she know about the old king?
He gave a few airy coughs. “I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of any King Terryn. The land we’re on belongs to King Cadfen. There is King Herald in the North, the two kings Essen and Issin in the Eastern realms and King Orof of the South. No Terryn.”
“Is that what he’s told everyone?” she said. Her breathing was coming out in rapid wheezes again.
“He?” Alistair asked.
“No one.” She moved her head to stare up at him. “No one. Please, just take me to Camelot.”
“I can do that. I have several packages to deliver there.”
She gave him a small smile and nodded. “Let’s be off, then. Shall we?”
Chapter Two
N either Robin nor Clark had spoken since they left the forest. On Robin’s part, she was eager to return to the land she had once called home even if such was the case no longer. Her blood heated her chest like coals in a hot fire as she thought of what happened that night. She hadn’t been there but if Cadfen was king, Robin was certain her uncle and his men were dead. Maybe all of them.
She clutched her charm and shook away the thoughts of Arthur covered in blood.
He had Excalibur with him. The sword has saved him more than once. Why would this time be any different?
“You should try and move your legs, Robin, if you plan on getting them to work properly again.”
Clark glanced back in her direction before turning to the road ahead.
Despite her best efforts, Robin felt a blush creep up her face. When she had tried to stand to mount the horse, her legs collapsed under her. She had tried to push herself off the ground and her arms shook horribly. Clark had to help her on and he even put the bracelet around her wrist.
Even now, she couldn’t grasp the reins correctly and it was taking much of her strength and focus to hold onto Clark.
The tree had sustained her over her ten years of imprisonment. However, what it gave it also took back. Her body was out of practice. She had lost agility, speed, strength, and, temporarily at least, her mobility.
What labored her mind the most was she wasn’t sure how long it would take for those things to return or if they ever would. So, she began to kick her legs, though the movement that occurred would hardly qualify.
“We can still make it, Fred. Race horse or not, you’re the best. Come on!” Clark lightly slapped the horse’s side.
Robin could feel the beast pick up speed. She smiled. Clark seemed kind and he treated his horse well, better than some royal trainers she had seen. Still, she was uncertain how much longer she could rely on his kindness. True, Clark was a messenger, meaning he was paid well enough, but by the looks of his clothes and the rusty knife he had tried to stab her with, he was not a wealthy man.
I won’t put him out for too long, she thought. Once I’m strong enough, I’ll go in search of anyone who survived Cadfen’s betrayal and together we’ll re-take the kingdom. I’d love to see dear Elizabeth again, as well.
She grinded her teeth at the thought and put more effort into her leg movements.
Clark turned back to her. “Follow my lead.”
“What?”
“Everything I’m about to say isn’t true but I need you to pull your hood up and play along.”
She looked past him. A few yards away were four guards lined in front of a moat surrounding Camelot. Something of Cadfen’s doing obviously.
Clark’s words suddenly made sense to her. Without a second thought, Robin pulled her hood up and leaned against him.
As they approached the moat, one of the guards stepped out and held up a hand. They came to a halt.
“Business?” the man asked in a familiar voice. Robin fought the urge to turn and see if she knew him.
“Messenger. Packages for the baker Henry, the seamstress Odila, and the cobbler,” Clark said, breathless from the ride.
“City of origin?”
“Satbury. The farthest north you can get before King Herald’s land.”
“Right,” the guard responded. “Please, let me see your seal. Who’s this you got here?”
“A new arrival for Lord Kensington.”
There was a roar of laughter. Robin could even feel Clark force out a few chuckles.
“That old man,” said one of the guards. “I don’t know how he keeps up with all his packages.”
“He needs to start sharing with the rest of us. He’s got more than enough to go around,” said another.
A man grunted. “That’s the truest statement I’ve ever heard. When he’s doing books for the shop, I could keep his ladies occupied.”
There was another bout of deep laughter.
Robin’s stomach twisted. These men were pigs and Cadfen had let them loose. Uncle Terryn outlawed brothels unless the people there were present of choice and mind. But this, what these men were discussing was something entirely different. This was sex slavery.
“All right, here’s ya seal, boy. Go on in.”
Following his permission, the slow sound of the drawbridge greeted Robin’s ears.
“Thank you, sir.” Clark nudged the reins and Fred moved through the gates to the capital. As the gates closed behind them, Robin pulled her hood back a bit and sat up. Immediately, she looked south and there the castle rested as before. Four towers on each corner of the castle wall and the keep rested back, dead center with varying chambers on either side. The Camelot flag flew from each peak. It was if nothing had changed.
“Did you hear me, Robin?”
She forced her eyes away from the castle.
“What?”
“Go on, Fred,” said Clark and the horse started through the city.
Robin gazed around her. A few businesses and shops had been replaced, as well as some new structures added. People milled around the streets, bartering for goods, talking shop, others having lively discussions about the day. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I said I’m sorry about what I told the guards,” he stated. “I couldn’t think of another way to get you in without suspicion.”
“It’s fine,” Robin replied, peering around the city. “I know your words were for show. Who is this Lord Kensington?”
“He’s the most sought-after treasurer in Camelot,” said Clark. “Only works with the finest businesses. He also owns all seven, uh, male intended establishments. Many of the girls brought here are for his own entertainment though. If the guards ask him about you, he’ll just figure he missed one.”
Robin scoffed. “Male intended establishments? You mean brothels. Or better yet, let’s call it what it is. Sex houses where the participants are kept there against their will. Am I correct?”
Clark loosened his grip on the reins and placed his hands on Fred’s back. “He knows his way from here. And yes, you are correct, Robin. Many of the women and children--”
“Children!” She jumped in her seat, her body temporarily forgetting it was imprisoned for ten years. Her hands became fists and she felt a boiling disgust rise in her.
He has children…working in the brothels? How could he ever-
“Robin?”
The disgust in her stomach had forced her mouth shut.
“Yes,” she answered through gritted teeth.
“Would you agree it is not in our best interest to draw too much attention to ourselves? You know, with me being from Satbury and you rolling from a tree only a few moments ago.”
“Uh-huh.” She flexed her fingers, wishing more than ever she could get them around Cadfen’s neck.
He had taken her home, taken the city’s dignity. He had taken everything.
“So…” Clark gave her a glance.
What was he saying to me?
“How do you think screaming as we enter the city qualifies?” He raised a brow.
She closed her eyes and tightened her fists before taking a deep breath which did nothing to calm her.
“Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right,” she said, jaw still tight. “I was lost in my mind for a moment.”
“Another thing, Robin.”
“Yes, Clark.” She tried not to bite the words out at him.
“Breaking the rider’s chest bone of the horse you are also riding is highly ill advised.”
With a gasp, she pulled her arms back from his chest and lightly placed her hands on his shoulders. Clark had not been the one to wrong her. Cadfen had. She would save her rage for him, yet her body was not in complete agreement.
Children.
The sickening feeling rose in her stomach again. This time it was not hot and angry. Instead, the churning felt heavy and dense. The mobility her body had gained when rushed with energy faded and sunk, drawing her with it. Robin could sense the airy feeling smooth over her head. She grew slack and though she tried to tighten her grip on the horse, she could feel herself falling.
Fred jerked to the left. A hand wrapped around her wrist and then she was resting lopsidedly against Clark. There was a slick sweat on her brow.
He encircled himself using her arms and pulled her up a bit.
“Children,” she wheezed into his ear. “My uncle, Arthur, everyone…he’s taken them all.”
A trem
or ran down Clark’s spine.
“Robin, you misunderstood what I said. The children aren’t being sold. They serve food and clean.”
She raised her own brow. “Then, they’re not…”
He shook his head.
A sigh escaped her. That was one less thing to press on her mind.
“Look, I’m almost to my first stop. You should tell me where you want to go.”
I have nowhere to go.
“You’re obviously feeling worse than we thought. You need help, a physician perhaps.”
“It’s a simple spell. The doctors have already told me I have a weak constitution. It will pass.”
He nodded. “Fine. Well, I don’t want you fainting in the city. You’re likely to be stomped by another horse before I can dismount.”
Clark closed his hand around her wrists. “My cousin from the north used to have fainting spells, too. Focus on me, the hold you have on me. Everything else will be a blur. I’ll be your center.”
She nodded and tightened her grip. Through his clothes, she realized how slim Clark was. His small frame was enshrined with muscle, probably not acquired through any formal training but it was still present. His abdomen rose and fell with his breathing. His shoulders flexed every now and again.
Robin turned and stared up at him. His hair was the same shade as hers, aside from the streak of silver. His eyes were a strange shade, as well. Not a dark brown but a deep purple that shone when caught in good light.
She inhaled. Clark smelled like warm hay in the sun. Memories of her childhood rushed to her but she pushed them into a dark corner. She was here in Camelot with Clark and Fred. If she could focus on that, her mind would as well.
I will not faint.
Again, she turned to look out at the city. There was no immediate sign of mistreatment. Actually, the townspeople seemed happy going about their day. There was no cloud of gloom hanging over their heads. They were content…with Cadfen.
Tears threatened to spring from Robin’s eyes. She pulled closer to Clark and they receded.
Robin scolded herself. She needed to be smarter and not let her emotions get the best of her. What had she expected really? Blood smeared across the road and walls? People hanging from posts?
The Woman In the Tree Page 3
