Climbing the steep bank, Vladimir knelt and sniffed the morning air, something she noticed he did frequently.
“Come, we are fine for now.”
Julian reached out to help her up the slippery grade; the night’s mist had made the bank terribly slick. He had been very attentive to her since they had escaped the palace, and she liked it. Though even with Julian’s newfound concern, Pepca’s mind was still troubled. Her thoughts wandered to Dimitri. She could only hope her brother hadn’t been made to suffer because of her. The thought of it was too much to bear; she counted him the only family she had left, or at least the only one that cared if she lived. Pepca had put the rest of her family out of her mind. It was hurtful too think about how they had treated her. She wished she could forget all about her mother and sister’s harsh words, and her father’s willingness to allow her to die to appease his baron. It was the past now and dwelling on it wouldn’t do her any good.
By midday, the air had grown a bit warmer and the sun was trickling through the branches of the thinly wooded area they had entered. Pepca carefully tried not to crush the fallen leaves covering the soft ground. Every time she stumbled on a rock or root and rustled the dry leaves, Vladimir would look back with annoyance. She had always been clumsy and prone to graceless mishaps, but her awkwardness had never before been a manner of life and death.
Doing her best to slip through the trees, Pepca sometimes walked on her toes to keep the noise of her footsteps as quiet as she could. When they finally made their way out of the small wood, Pepca breathed a sigh of relief and let the tension slide from her shoulders.
Putting her hands on the small of her back, the princess stretched. She didn’t remember her walks in the woods being this strenuous.
She quickly snapped forward after catching sight of Vladimir pointing to the southeast, where another stretch of forest lay a mile or so ahead. Pepca slapped her hands on top of her wooly head and cursed. Covering her mouth, she shot a look at Julian.
The young rebel was grinning. “My, my, Princess, where did you hear such vulgar words?”
Squaring her shoulders, she tromped past him without another word.
Veering towards the trees, they marched through an area of brown knee-high weeds. The ugly grass was still damp enough from the night before to get her boots wet. Vladimir strayed ahead of them as they neared the small wood. He crouched low and carefully appraised the patch of trees. All she hoped was they would have a fire tonight so she could dry her boots out. It would be very uncomfortable to travel with wet feet.
Without warning, Julian grabbed her shoulder and pushed her down into the wet grass.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He pointed ahead to where Vladimir was signaling them to stay down. Peeking through the weeds, Pepca caught sight of something moving in the trees ahead of them.
A huge bear of a man came into view. He was bald and bearded, with curly dark hair covering his shoulders and arms. Wearing only a leather vest and a pair of tattered pants, the man clutched a large warhammer in his thick fingers as if he was about to brain an ox. Peering forward and walking softly, he moved as if he was hunting a stag. Breaking from the trees a few feet to his left, a woman appeared. Dark auburn hair fell past her shoulders in large, loose curls. Dressed in a worn leather shirt, belted at the waist over a pair of dark leggings, her brown eyes studied her surroundings as intently as her companions. As the woman moved forward, Pepca could see she sported boots that rose past her knees and held a saber low and at the ready.
Vladimir jumped up from where he squatted. “What the hell are you two doing out here?”
The two strangers seemed startled for a moment, then they smiled and lowered their weapons. “We were on our way to check with our spies in Brova. The word was you had been captured. We thought you might be swinging from the end of a rope by now,” the redhead said.
The burly man slapped Vladimir on the shoulder. “I glad to see the reports were wrong.”
“They weren’t wrong. We were in the king’s dungeon, true enough. If not for this girl and a stroke of luck, we would be dead.” Vladimir pointed his thumb to where she and Julian still crouched in the grass.
“Where are my manners? Julian, Pepca, it is alright; these are friends.”
Julian stood and helped Pepca to her feet, then they joined the others.
Vladimir stretched out his hand towards the newcomers. “Julian, this is Grigore Galca and this charming lady is Katrina Dobrescu. This fine young man is Julian Krislav, our man inside the palace.”
Julian shook both their hands.
“It’s good to finally meet you.” The woman looked Julian up and down as if appraising a horse. “I always wondered what our man in the king’s stable looked like. I am not disappointed.”
Her voice was low and soft, and she was easily as beautiful as Danika, maybe even more so. The woman was tall and fit, as well as well-endowed. Even in the traveling clothes, her voluptuous curves could clearly be seen. Unblemished skin the color of hazelnut, and those alluring eyes and full lips could turn the head of any man. Pepca was instantly jealous of the woman, and moreover, she didn’t like the way this Katrina was looking at Julian.
“Who’s the curly-headed scarecrow?” the big man asked, pointing to her.
Pepca frowned at his rude observation.
“This is Pepca and as I said, she is the reason we are free.” Vladimir clapped her gently on the shoulder.
“I take it your attack on Serban went just as Constantine warned you it would?” Katrina said, sheathing her saber.
Vladimir scratched at his ragged beard and shrugged. “It was worth a try. Next time, we will have that devil.”
“I’m more interested in how this slip of a girl set you free.” Grigore grinned at her.
“She was imprisoned along with us and one could argue it was her noble nature that opened the door to our prison,” Vladimir said with a sly smile.
“You’re not a bard, Vladimir, speak plain. Who’s the damn girl?” Katrina snapped.
“I told you, we are standing in the presence of royalty, my dear Katrina. May I present to you Princess Pepca Lasota.” Vladimir made a sweeping bow, mocking her nobility.
Grigore spit on the ground and turned his back, and Katrina advanced as if she was going to strike her.
Julian intervened, stepped between them and raising his hands.
“She is part of the curse that is on this land, Julian. Why do you protect her?” Katrina hissed.
“She was condemned by her own father for taking our part. If you want to hurt her, you will have to come through me.”
Katrina’s hand flashed to the hilt of her sword. Vladimir held his hand up and shook his head. “Leave them be, Trina. What Julian said is true.”
Reluctantly, the auburn-haired woman released her grip on her saber. “At least we have a hostage.”
“No,” Vladimir said, his voice resounding with authority. “Julian told you she was condemned alongside us; the baron hunts her just as he hunts us. She would be worth nothing to the king or the Serban. Besides, Pepca is one of us now, whether you like it or not.”
Katrina’s expression became flat and she shook her head. “She will never be one of us.”
Stumbling backward, Pepca caught Julian’s arm before she fell. She didn’t know why, but the woman’s disdain had hurt her feelings.
“She’s coming with us anyway, Katrina,” Vladimir said with a flip of his hand. “Now let’s get moving or we’ll all be back in a cell before nightfall.”
After the sun had set, they stopped and sat in the dark to eat a few strips of dried beef that Grigore had pulled from a small bag on his belt. Pepca’s belly was far too empty to worry about the beef’s salty taste. She greedily devoured the few small pieces she had been given.
Katrina had not spoken a word since she and Vladimir had argued, nor would she sit near them. Pepca squinted into the dark. She saw the female rebel seated against a tree seve
ral yards away, ignoring all of them.
“Why does she hate me so?” she quietly asked Julian.
“I don’t know, but she has taken a dislike to you, that’s for sure.”
“Try not to hold it against her, Princess. Trina has seen much. Her village was one of the first to revolt against Serban. He had the entire place destroyed; she and her mother barely escaped with their lives. It was said the attack was on the order of the king,” Vladimir conveyed from the darkness. “I think she was younger than you when it happened, and since then, she has lost many friends in our fight against Serban and the Trimenian nobility. Before you judge her, you might consider her feelings toward this kingdom’s aristocracy.”
“I don’t believe my father would have done such a thing,” Pepca said with a touch of indignation.
“It doesn’t manner if you or I believe it; Trina does. Now go to sleep, Princess. We will move on before the sun rises.”
Julian rose and pulled her to her feet, then led her to an old sycamore tree. He lay down beneath it and Pepca did the same. The ground was cold and she began to shiver. It wasn’t long before Pepca felt Julian’s arm slide around her narrow waist.
“Stay close, it will be warmer,” he whispered in her ear.
She squirmed backwards, trying to get as close to him as she could. Feeling his breath on her neck, Pepca’s heart began to flutter, and she wondered if she would get any sleep.
The next morning, Julian shook her awake. Pepca stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Katrina and Grigore shared what remained of the food they had brought with everyone before they moved on.
The day was overcast with heavy clouds hanging low in the sky. It felt like it might rain. Pepca wished she had a cloak or jacket, as the morning’s sharp breeze had the threat of winter in it.
Vladimir had moved ahead of the group, as he usually did, and she and Julian trailed along at the rear.
“You haven’t said where you’re taking me,” she said, truly curious about their destination.
Julian was fumbling with his hair as they walked along, trying to tie back his dark locks with a twisted band of cloth.
“Here let me help you,” she offered. The young man stopped and Pepca quickly pulled his hair back, tying it behind his head.
“There is a hidden camp in the great southern forest north of Phlosha. It is where Constantine is trying to rebuild his army. It will be safe for you there.”
“Who is Constantine?” she asked.
“The leader of the rebellion, Constantine Miklos. He was once a very wealthy merchant before he lost all he had to Serban. I thought you might have heard of him.”
Pepca shook her head. “No, I don’t know the name, but I bet Dimitri does. He was always more involved with those of prominence. Father seldom introduced me to anyone of importance.” Pepca thought she felt a drop of rain. Holding out her hand, she waited to see if another would hit her palm. “The southern forest is a long way from here. How long will it take us to get there?”
Julian shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I have never been there. I suppose it will depend on how many times we have to change our direction to evade those that hunt us. The baron will not let us escape so easy. He will have patrols combing the entire countryside for us all the way to the border.”
Pepca shivered at the thought. “What will you do once we arrive at this camp?”
“I will join the others and do whatever I can to free our land and avenge my mother and father, Pep. I told you it is the reason I returned to Trimenia.”
“What will you do after that?” she asked, brushing against him and trying to bat her eyes like Danika had showed her ages ago.
Squinting down at her, Julian slowed his pace. “Is something in your eye?”
Quickly stopping her rapid blinking, Pepca dropped her head. “No, I’m fine.”
He gave her a befuddled stare and continued, “I haven’t really given much thought to what I will do after Trimenia is liberated; perhaps buy a farm and raise a family. I don’t really know.”
“Farming is a hard life. You will need to wed a strong woman, someone that would stand by your side no manner what,” Pepca hinted.
Julian’s face turned sullen. “Yes, I suppose you would need a good woman.”
Pepca had seen that expression before; he was thinking of her sister. It made her a little angry that his thoughts always returned to Danika.
She looked down, her shirt was unbuttoned halfway to her navel yet there was no chance of her breasts being exposed, her hips were narrow like a boy’s, and a large man’s hands could completely encircle her tiny waist. She blew her ratty hair out of her eyes with a huff. She did look like a scarecrow. Men were never going to desire her the way they did women like Danika or Katrina, with their heavy chests, round hips, and well-disciplined hair. She was going to die an old, skinny spinster—Pepca the scarecrow princess.
Julian nudged her with his elbow. “Is something wrong, Pep? You look angry.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing.”
They moved along the crest of a small hill that overlooked a dirt track running north and south. Herdsmen often used these trails when moving their herds from one location to another or when driving their animals to the market in Brova, to keep from blocking the kingdom’s main roads. There was little cover nearby so they advanced with extra caution.
She saw Vladimir drop to one knee. “Someone is coming,” he said in a hushed tone.
Pepca saw no one but there was a bend in the path where it circled the hill a good distance ahead, and Vladimir was seldom wrong with his warnings.
Katrina pulled a large dagger from her belt and handed it to their dark-eyed leader, while Grigore did the same for Julian. Carefully taking position along the edge of the hilltop, the group of renegades laid on their bellies and waited. Pepca bit her lip and squeezed Julian’s arm, afraid of what was going to come around the hillside.
“It will be alright,” he whispered, giving her hand a pat.
Moments later, a man came around the bend, carrying a small girl and accompanied by a young woman with white hair. The hood of the man’s cloak was pulled up against the morning breeze so she couldn’t make out his features, but it was clear he was a warrior. He wore a shirt of dark mail and a large sword hung at his side. As they got closer, she could see that the white-haired woman was near her age and she too was armed with sword and bow.
“Most likely one of Serban’s mercenaries, though I don’t know why he would be out here with a young woman and a child,” Vladimir whispered.
“Maybe he is an agent of the inquisition,” Grigore speculated. “It would explain the child.”
Vladimir tapped the ground with his finger. “I don’t know who he is, but she is not the child’s mother, that’s for sure.” Still some distance away, the man stopped. His head turned directly to their position. “Stay still,” Vladimir ordered as quietly as he could.
“He’s looking right at us. How could he know we are here?” Grigore said, confused by their unexpected discovery.
Vladimir crawled back a few feet from the edge of the hill and they all followed his lead. “He looks to be alone. We can take the girl from him, then move on. If he is with Serban or the Church, the child’s fate is sure to be a grim one.”
Grigore put his hand on Vladimir’s shoulder. “You’re taking a big risk; you chance exposing us for a child?”
“Yes, my friend, I’ll take that chance.”
Grigore tried to stop him, but Vladimir was up and over the hill’s crest before he could get a hand on him. The others got to their feet as well.
“Come on,” Julian said, reaching down to her. Pepca took his hand and they slowly followed their companions down the hill to the dirt path.
The five of them blocked the stranger’s way, but kept a good distance from him. All of them, including Julian, had their weapons at the ready. Even if she was armed, Pepca was no fighter, so she eased herself behind
Julian and waited.
“Where are you taking that child, friend?” Vladimir asked, pointing to the little girl.
The man set the child on the ground and the white-haired woman pulled the little girl back from the warrior.
“We are just traveling down this path. Our destination in no concern of yours.” The man’s voice was low and menacing.
Vladimir took a step forward. “If she is Trimenian, it is my concern.”
Pepca thought she heard a low growl come from inside the man’s hood.
“She is orphaned. I only seek to take her to safety.” It was clear the stranger was irritated with Vladimir’s questions. His voice had grown deeper with agitation.
“Well, why don’t you give her to us then? We are well acquainted with this land and know many families that would take the child in.”
“No,” was the man’s only answer.
Vladimir pointed his knife at the warrior. “Perhaps we will just take her from you then.”
The stranger pulled the most frightening sword Pepca had ever seen from the scabbard at his side. Touching it to the ground, he drew a half-circle in the dirt. “Come take her, if you can.”
Vladimir glanced at his companions and the four of them spread out, slowly moving toward the swordsman. Pepca stood stock still. If not for Julian’s presence, she would have run away from the ominous warrior and his dark sword as fast as she could.
Reaching up, the swordsman casually untied his cloak and tossed it to the side. Long black hair fell past his shoulders, and a few strands swung down across his brow, giving him a feral look. She thought his features were strangely beautiful, though he bore a large scar on his face, but looking in to his eyes made her tremble. Golden in color, the stranger’s eyes were fierce and frightening. He looked upon his opponents with the viciousness of a wild animal. The entire group took a step back, except for Julian. His knife had fallen to his side and he remained frozen in the road.
Vladimir took a deep breath and waved the others forward.
“Wait,” Julian uttered.
The Star Of Saree Page 8
