by LeRoy Clary
A pair of guards were on either side of the door, another pair at either corner in small guardhouses that were made of unpainted wood and out of place. There were other guards marching from corner to corner, the two meeting at the same place each time, but each watched the other’s back as they performed their duties. There would be more of the same on either side and at the rear.
Whoever was inside had close to twenty guards to protect him, all day and all night. That made him or her as important as any king or queen. At least they thought so. The soldiers forced me ahead, right past the outer guards and to the front entrance.
Inside were more guards, four of them, standing in the four corners of what had once been a reception hall. Now there waited a thin, old man seated behind an enormous desk. His head was down as he examined the top of a stack of papers, and his white hair brushed back still revealed a bald spot.
When I had been maneuvered to the front of the desk by guards who were none too gentle, he sighed and lifted his head until his cold gaze fell on me. He said, “Princess Elizabeth of Dire?”
“I am.” Thankfully, my voice remained firm without a trace of tremor.
“There are people in Dagger who wish to speak with you.”
“Provide their names, and when I reach there, I will consider meeting with them.”
He closed his eyes as if that action would shut my mouth. It seemed to work. When all was quiet, he opened them again. “We will take you there.”
“I have transportation.”
“We will take you, and that ends the discussion.” His head lowered again, dismissing me.
However, that enraged me. I said, “Sir, I will not be treated like that without recourse. I will promise you a painful death.”
He lifted the hand holding a pen and waved me off with a flick of his wrist, never once looking up at me again. The guards to either side roughly grasped my upper arms and nearly lifted me off my feet, as they half-carried me past the desk to a hallway. Doors lined each side, and at the third, I was shoved inside.
The closing of the heavy door echoed inside the large room with brown colored stone walls, floor, and ceiling. Three tiny windows were too high to see out, but fresh air flowed inside. There was not a chair, bed, or any furniture. No carpets. Nothing but bare walls.
My first task was to stalk around the room looking for anything that could be used as a weapon, or way out. Of course, there was nothing of the sort, but I had to try. The latch on the door was closed, the windows too small and too high up, and the walls stone.
Lady Grace would hear of my abduction but what could she or the captain of the Gallant do? It seemed that my best path to follow was to sit and wait. I went to the far corner where anyone entering would have to cross the room to reach me and sat on the bare floor. Eventually, I raised my knees and allowed my chin to rest on them. I closed my eyes.
The rattle of a key in the lock brought me awake. The door swung open slowly as if expecting me to attack. Instead, I waited, my heart pounding.
He was dressed in tan leather leggings, heavy boots, and a tan tunic that hung to the floor. A darker brown scarf wrapped around his neck and head, which concealed the lower part of his face. Above the scarf, he was darker than most from Kondor, his face wider.
He motioned for me to approach. I remained sitting.
He crossed the room in a few quick steps and grabbed a handful of my hair. He turned and marched back to the door with me scrambling behind on my hands and knees.
The man let go and faced me again. He silently motioned for me to stand. Fearing the consequences, I did.
He smiled without humor. Without a single word, he’d established who was in charge, and that there would be immediate and hurtful responses if I didn’t obey. He brushed my hair from his fingers and let the strands he’d pulled from my head fall to the floor between us.
He said in a gruff voice, “You and I will leave here together. You may walk, or I will drag you.”
“Do you know who I am?”
He drew in a breath and answered, “You are a fat paycheck for me in Dagger as long as you live. I can deliver you healthy as you are, or barely drawing a few last breaths. They don’t care if you have had every hair yanked from your head, if you have any teeth, and if you have five or ten broken bones.”
“I’ll pay you more than them,” I said.
He shook his head. “If I accept your offer I will never work again—if I manage to survive.”
“So, you have morals,” my voice was as cold as his eyes.
He motioned down the hallway, the opposite way I’d entered. Head up, back straight, I turned and walked. The hallway was longer than I remembered and turned to the right at the end. It came to a halt where a door stood closed. Since my escort didn’t tell me any differently, I reached for the latch and opened it.
Outside, the strong morning sun almost blinded me. A pair of runty horses awaited. Without speaking, he walked to the nearest and mounted. I went to the other. He had trained me well in the few minutes we’d been acquainted.
A narrow alleyway took us from the majestic home to the street outside, where two wagons rumbled along stone streets. A few people walked along the edges, and a squad of blue-clad soldiers marched in unison, similar to the one that had taken me, prisoner. I looked twice to be sure none of the faces were familiar. However, I had no idea of what I’d do if they were.
However, the few on the street were the exceptions. If those people were removed, there would be an empty main street in the middle of the morning where there should be dozens or even hundreds of people, along with wagons, horses, and bystanders. We turned away from the harbor and rode up a slight rise, drawing the attention of nobody. We didn’t hide, ride the shadows, or move quickly.
When in Dire, my appearance drew appreciative looks from men of all ages, and I’d grown used to it. Now their eyes avoided me. Behind that avoidance was fear.
While this city had not gone the way of Trager fully, it was on its way. Why would a council of rulers wish for it to happen? They had to know and understand the consequences from other cities and kingdoms. Why did they wish to destroy a city from the inside?
While still in Vin, there was the vague hope Damon and Kendra would appear around the next corner and rescue me. Kendra might even have her dragon attack the man who held me captive. If so, I’d encourage her to tell the dragon to eat him. No, that was silly. Either her or Damon would put an arrow into his heart before the dragon could do that.
I watched every corner, every tree that could hide a person, and hoped. In preparation, I moved my feet back in the stirrups to be ready to kick free and dive to the street so my friends would have a clear shot.
They didn’t appear.
We continued riding beside each other until we reached the edge of Vin and followed a dirt road along the river out of the city. There were a few walkers and riders on wagons. Nobody rode horses but us, and we drew attention from that fact because only those with money could afford horses. Here and there were pullouts along the dirt road where one wagon could pull aside and allow one laden with crops to continue to the city. A few lackluster waves between wagon drivers told me all I needed. The drivers were uncaring and tired. Maybe scared.
If two wagons of the same sort were in Dire and passed each other, the drivers would shout friendly insults, ask of the news of the other’s family, and how the market was where they would sell their goods. It was a way to exchange a maximum of information in a minimum amount of time.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To Dagger, right where you wanted.”
He rode beside me. I had no doubt he rode the better horse, the one that could run faster and longer. He was also the better rider. Any attempt to run wouldn’t end well for me.
However, he was too self-important, too sure of himself. All the thousands of hours I’d spent with the Weapon-Master training as hard as if I was entering my father’s army, were not wasted. While I could use a
bow better than Kendra, and not as well as Damon, I was better than most soldiers, as was my swordsmanship, and my hand to hand fighting.
It was too early in the trip to use my skills, but his belief that he was a better fighter would be his downfall. His arrogance gave me the edge I needed. If he had brought even four guards, he would probably deliver me to Dagger as intended.
Without those guards, he would sleep or rest, turn his back, lull himself into a stupor, or perhaps we would find an inn that served strong ale or wine. My time would come.
I continued to act the part of a confused princess who didn’t know which edge of a kitchen knife was sharp.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Damon
We reached the farm that Flier’s family owned after a short walk down the road from the Waystone. Better said, we reached the place where a farmhouse had once stood. The blackened remains were covered in vines, and grass grew high enough to almost hide them from the road.
Part of the fences that outlined the pastures were visible in the overgrown fields where small trees had rooted and grew head-high. There was no sign of people. Flier stood alone and looked over what had been a prosperous family farm, trying to hold his emotions in check.
We said nothing. Finally, he turned and continued walking in the direction of Vin. The local clothing we hoped to get wouldn’t happen. Our pace slowed. We started to notice that despite the fertile ground and plentiful water from a small river, there was an unnatural quiet.
Kendra moved to my side and said as we entered the outskirts of the northern edge of Vin, “Damon, I don’t like this place.”
“Neither do I.” Too many of the small farms and houses along the river were dreary and overgrown with vines and weeds. Few cattle grazed the lush grass in the pastures. No dogs barked. As many farms stood empty as those occupied.
We’d split up a little as we traveled. Avery lagged far behind, moving slowly as all wandering priests did, seemingly traveling alone. Kendra and the girls walked together as any mother and her children might. Flier and I walked fifty paces ahead of them, just a pair of dusty travelers fresh in from the desert.
For every person we saw, there should have been ten more. I heard Anna speak to Kendra and giggle, which caused me to notice there were no children in sight. I glanced back and found Anna and Kendra lost in girl-talk, but little Emma wore a scowl as concerned as my own. It seemed that Emma, while the youngest, often wore a scowl.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked Flier, “And why?”
“My family owns several houses and apartments. We’re going to the largest. If they are living there, we can enlist their help and get the money to pay for a ransom, if your princess has been taken.”
“You’ve been planning,” I commented.
“More like listening to the two of you and deciding how to meet your wishes. After all, you’ve done for me, I owe you.”
“Choosing good friends is a knack I seem to have.”
We both laughed. After turning up another street, a house stood so large it blocked the entire block, and the little traffic on the streets had to go around it. On the massive set of steps In front marched guards, six that were in sight, all wearing the blue uniforms of the King’s Army.
Flier bumped my shoulder and forced me to turn into the next alley. He whispered, “That was my father’s house. There would be no guards if he lived there, especially when they are dressed in blue.”
Kendra and the girls followed us. We waited until they caught up.
Flier said, “I suggest we go to the waterfront. Perhaps your princess has not yet arrived on the ship.”
Kendra said, “Whatever you think best.”
When Flier turned away, she scowled and mouthed, “What the hell?”
I shrugged and moved to catch up with him. His optimism and cheer were gone. His face displayed dismay and anger. He had obviously expected his family to be living in their home and was worried. Our vague plans had suddenly gone astray, and neither Kendra or I were happy about it. Flier’s entire attitude, stance, and expression had changed when he laid eyes on the guards.
He navigated us out of several alleys to a main street, and we again walked as a pair, the three women fifty steps behind and acting as if we all just happened to be going in the same direction. Several people took notice of my sword. That made me look at them, and I found no swords, almost as if they were not allowed. If I wore a long robe like many of the locals, I’d have placed it underneath.
The slope of the hill took us generally down to where a few masts of ships stuck up over the roofs like stray twigs on branches. As we passed by the last in a row of two-story buildings, the harbor was in full view and directly ahead was the Gallant, tied to a pier. Our buoyant attitude swelled, and we exchanged grins.
We went directly in that direction, almost at a trot. There were ten or more soldiers lounging on the pier. One, an officer from the gold piping on his uniform, watched us with lazy, but interested eyes. With two fingers pointing at my foot to draw attention, I motioned for Kendra to take the girls down a side street instead of to the ship. She seemed to understand my concern as they moved away.
Flier said softly, “A trap? I don’t know, but we might hold our own against them.”
I said, “If they attack, we’ll jump into the water and swim to the far side of the ship. That’s the purser at the quarterdeck, and he’ll recognize us and lower a ladder.”
Flier muttered, “I’m in a mood to fight.” But he didn’t argue.
Still, if one or two of them reached us, I’d bet Flier’s blade would also sing alongside mine. I stepped a little to one side, to give him room. We warily walked on past them and up the gangplank, where the purser had already called for a messenger. The boy escorted us to Elizabeth’s cabin, where we found Lady Grace anxiously waiting.
She said anxiously, “Did you see her?”
“Who?”
“Elizabeth! They came aboard and took the princess.” Her eyes were red, her voice screeching.
Flier and I looked at each other. “Who?” I managed.
“The soldiers!”
Flier snapped, “The color of their uniforms?”
“Blue.”
Timor raced inside the cabin. “They just came aboard and took her just after dark last night before anyone knew what was happening. Two of the crew were hurt. I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You stay with Lady Grace and protect her. Do what you think is best for the two of you, and if the Gallant sails, you sail with her. Return to Dire with the news.”
“I can fight,” he persisted.
Flier again came to my rescue with a lie, “We only have enough horses for two.”
Timor said, “Kendra?”
“Safe,” I assured him.
We turned to leave and were met on the deck by the purser and the captain. The captain said with a stiff voice that betrayed his anger, “It happened so fast. We’re sorry, this has never happened where soldiers come aboard a vessel. It is against maritime law, and there will be consequences. Is there anything we can do?”
“Protect Lady Grace and Timor,” I said. Then realized the crack of my voice was an accusation more than a request. “I’m sorry.”
The purser said, “They took her to a big house in the center of the city. It’s surrounded by guards. I had one of my men follow them.”
“You did well,” Flier said. “A three-story house?”
“Yes.”
It was the one that had belonged to Flier’s family. It was being used by the military as a headquarters and perhaps a prison. We pushed past the ship’s officers, anxious to get ashore and look for Princess Elizabeth, and as we reached the quarterdeck, we noticed the ten soldiers who had been lounging on the pier were now on their feet and massed at the bottom of the gangplank.
The officer with them smiled wickedly, knowing we were mice in a trap.
“Swim?” Flier asked.
&nbs
p; “Not this time,” I said while drawing my sword with a flourish they’d all notice. From the corner of my eye, the captain was ordering his men to back me. His ship had been violated, and his anger was as great as mine. However, the gangplank was wide enough for only one person. In a louder voice, I called, “Stand well behind me. Don’t crowd., I’ll need room to move.”
To be sure my magic was intact, I swirled a small whirlwind and watched the water form a miniature waterspout—then ventured onto the gangplank a slow step at a time, watching for their reaction. A soldier charged up the ramp. I met him halfway.
My blade slashed twice, once left-to-right across his chest, then a return swing right-to-left across his neck. He fell at my feet, and I retreated two steps. In order to reach me, the next would have to climb over the first, and through all the slippery blood.
The second also charged at the urging of his officer, who stood safely on the pier. A little magic caused one foot to fly out from under him, and he tripped and fell forward, to meet a single slash of my sword. Now there were two bodies for them to climb over. I waited.
The third ignored his officer’s shouts to attack and came slower. I still waited, almost motionless. He raised his sword, ready to take the final step, but a blast of magic air struck his face. His eyes reflexively closed, a fatal mistake as my sword chose that moment to slash across his stomach. His moans carried to those still on the pier.
My fury had risen, and instead of waiting for the next to charge the ramp, I leaped over the three on the gangplank, then the side railing to land on the pier, and slew the two nearest before my feet fully landed on the pier. When they did, another soldier was in reach of my blade, his arms raised high to protect himself, and my blade slid across his middle, too.
As I’d been taught, I slashed, never stabbed. An opponent with a deep slice across his body seldom wished to continue fighting. My intention was to slash and move ahead until none wished to fight.
