by Drea Damara
“I was told you have a stroomphblutel. I would like to hire it from you.” Ricky stood firmly, trying not to lower his chin as he spoke.
“It’s not for sale or hire,” the man said, scoffing and walked up to the middle of the room.
Ricky grabbed a small leather pouch from his belt full of troogies that Netta had given him. He tossed the pouch so it landed on the table next to where the first Wortwart brother stood. “I’ll pay you a hundred troogies for two days.”
Several people gasped and stared at the coin purse on the table. The man looked down at the pouch, and Ricky thought he saw the man’s eyebrows rise. The other brother came up beside the first to ogle down at the bulky pouch and then gawked at Ricky and Henry.
“Another fifty to take me to Daundecort Hall.”
“And who are you to be throwing around troogies like that? Not that there’s much to buy with them in case you haven’t noticed, fancy lad.” The Wortwart crossed his arms over his chest and smirked as he canted his head to the side.
“Lord Richard Allister the Second, of Allister Hall and Blinney.” Ricky brought his own hands to his hips.
More gasps throughout the tavern sounded, a little louder this time. “I thought you looked like Richard,” the first brother sneered.
Some got up and walked out the back door. Henry shifted in place at his side.
“I need to leave immediately. Are you going to help or not?” Ricky spoke more firmly this time.
“And why should we be helping you?” the other brother questioned.
“You kidnapped a mistress of the Allister court the other day and gave her to Lord Groslivo. Lady Sarah was not very happy that she had to travel from Blinney and fetch the girl back from Ranthrop, nor was he happy to learn you’d put him in such a position that could fuel the fire between him and Lord Vasimus.” Ricky impressed even himself with that warning; he watched the Wortwart brothers go pale.
“Lady Sarah? But she’s—”
“Alive. Very much alive. As we speak, she is at Daundecort Hall trying to seek peace on behalf of Lord Ranthrop. Now are you going to take my man and me there or not? You’re lucky I’m offering you something for your services instead of seeking reparations for the girl you stole.” Ricky didn’t have to fake his anger thinking of Shelby being duped by these two country bumpkins.
The brothers looked at each other, both met by the other’s worried expression. “We meant no offense, Lord…Richard,” the second man said. “We didn’t know that Sarah…Lady Sarah lived or that the girl was from her court. We’ll take you to the road that leads into Daundecort Hall.”
A HALF hour later, Ricky and Henry met the Wortwart brothers in front of Allister Hall and saddled up stroomphblutels. Ricky chose the one from his family’s hall, while the Wortwarts provided Henry a scragglier one to ride. The brothers, Deacon and Baisley, shared a stroomphblutel. Deacon, the one Ricky had first spoken with, rode the beast while Baisley sat in a small wagon pulled behind it.
Henry had barely gotten over the shock of seeing a stroomphblutel for the first time, as Dergus led Ricky’s over to them, when it was time for him to saddle his own. As he mounted the beast, he grimaced and scowled at Ricky.
“I feel like I’m riding a giant dog.” His stroomphblutel took off in a hyper lumbering run on the road out of the village as he hung onto the saddle horn tightly. He hollered over to Deacon, “Is this thing trained?”
Deacon smirked. “Aye, but he’s not had so much weight on him in a while. Probably just trying to bounce you off.”
The brothers laughed at his expense. They were both large compared to the other men that had been in the tavern, but nowhere near his mass.
His ride gradually slowed and let its tongue hang out to catch its breath. He patted its back hesitantly—grateful it had decided he was staying on top of it. Ricky and the Wortwarts caught up with him, and they rode in silence down the roadway for a while.
“It’s not far now. Just about another twenty minutes and then we turn on the road to Daundecort Town,” Deacon said to Ricky.
“How will I know it?” Ricky inquired.
“You can’t miss it. It’s the tallest building on the hill,” Baisley said, speaking lazily, as he lounged in the wagon and wiped the sweat from his brow. Henry watched as the man’s eyes suddenly narrowed, looking down the road behind them. Baisley’s voice turned serious as he said, “Someone’s coming.”
Henry turned around and saw three figures mounted on stroomphblutels. The stroomphblutels had lumbered along lazily on their trip. They trotted awkwardly when they ran. He knew little of these creatures, but from the look of it the men approaching had their beasts stretched to a pace beyond those speeds.
“They’re moving with a purpose I think,” Ricky muttered offhandedly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Henry asked Deacon sourly, noticing his face had paled.
Deacon looked at him with his mouth flapping open. “It’s Groslivo’s colors. I’m sorry,” he whispered and yanked on the reins of his beast to turn it off the roadway.
“Where are you going?” Ricky called as Deacon steered the stroomphblutel and wagon into the tree line along the road. The wagon arched up on one side as Baisley hung on tightly, his eyes affixed to the approaching men.
“Halt!” one of the approaching riders called.
“Ricky, what’s going on?” Henry asked as his beast shifted underneath him.
“I don’t know. Maybe someone in town ratted us out.”
The riders stopped several feet away from them. The lead guard stared at Ricky. “Lord Richard?” the man called inquiringly.
Henry and Ricky glanced at each other. “Yes?” Ricky finally responded.
“Lord Richard Allister?” the man clarified.
“The Second,” Ricky added.
“The Second?” The man urged his beast to walk slowly to Ricky’s side.
“My father was Lord Richard. I am named after him,” Ricky said, sounding proud.
The man chuckled bitterly. “Lord Richard the Second,” he said sarcastically, “I think you should come with us. Lord Groslivo would like to meet you personally.” His words were cold.
The other two men started to approach the other side of Henry and Ricky. Ricky gaped at Henry, who eyed the movement as well and placed a firm grip on the hilt of his sword as he looked back to the leader. He’d kept silent so far, but it looked like it was time to act like a personal guard.
“I think not,” Henry warned.
“And who might you be?” Groslivo’s man said in a snotty tone.
“He’s my—” Ricky started.
“—personal guard. Henry, Master of Combat,” Henry said, gritting the words between his teeth. There was no way he was going to let Ricky refer to him as “my man” again, even if the self-proclaimed title he’d just given himself was a fib. Football was a form of combat, right?
The man swallowed and took in his physique. Henry drew his sword and pointed it at the two men on his other side. Luckily, Ricky took the cue and drew his own, holding the tip out in the direction of the snarky one who’d done all the talking.
When the men by Henry started for their swords, he swiftly brought his blade down to slice one of the man’s reins so he couldn’t steer his stroomphblutel. Henry yanked up on the reins of his own beast and dug his feet into its sides. The stroomphblutel reared up and he pulled the reins to the side, forcing it to turn as it came down. As it did, he elbowed the first man in the face, knocking him off his ride. On its descent his stroomphblutel pawed the other man’s in the face and Henry swung the flat surface of his blade, cracking the second man in the head, forcing both opponents to the side.
Ricky had begun to swing his own blade, meeting the blows of the lead rider. He worried that the man’s advantage of strength would knock the sword from his hand, but just as the blade would touch his own, it seemed to bounce back off like the opposing ends of magnets. He prayed the phenomenon would continue; he didn’t think
he was causing the force to knock the man’s blade away. It had to be from the stuff from Franci that Alexander had poured in there. When Henry showed to fight at his side, the man quickly yanked the reins of his stroomphblutel and fled back in the direction he had come.
Henry and Ricky quickly took off galloping in the opposite direction. They didn’t slow down until they came to the turn in the road where the Wortwarts said they would need to go. Their stroomphblutels panted as they lumbered down a small dip in the road, their adrenaline rush from the scuffle now gone as well.
“I was worried about you back there,” Henry said and looked over at Ricky.
“Me?” Ricky scoffed. “Franci and Alexander did something to my sword to keep me safe. How the hell did you fight off two guys without any help?”
“Franci and Alexander?” Henry shook his head upon discovering more people who lived so commonly with the supernatural while he was still trying to accept it. “Back in my day, they actually did fencing in gym class, but I just outwitted them, so luckily I didn’t have to see how little I remember.”
“I hope we don’t see any more of them. I don’t want to get into or cause any more trouble here,” Ricky said, grumbling. “Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant it—when I said I was sorry for dragging you in here with me. I shouldn’t have done that, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s all right. I wouldn’t have wanted to see you deal with that back there alone. Apart from the clothes,” he looked down at himself, “and the bizarreness of it all, I’m guessing you’ve given me something to remember for a very long time. Besides, if Sarah’s in the trouble you say she’s in, then I’m glad you brought me. Your aunt’s a good woman. I’d do anything to help her. She wouldn’t want you to go through this all by yourself.”
“Yeah,” Ricky said forlornly, “but she’s going to shit when she sees I brought you here.”
Henry laughed but stopped when he saw a hilltop fortress in front of the setting sun ahead of them. “Wow,” he muttered. A high stone wall ran all the way around the top of the hill; rooftops stuck up over it. At the highest point of the hill was a majestically imposing stone building with squared towers at each corner.
“That must be it,” Ricky said.
They traveled up the winding road through some lower outlying villages and under a great archway into the fortified town. Some people looked at them as they passed but didn’t gawk like those in Oedher Village had. The town looked more heavily populated so they probably had enough gossip without investigating every passerby. The people were better dressed than the ones Henry had seen in Oedher Village, but there was a tired worn look to their dress. The war Ricky and Netta had told him about must have hurt even this fine-looking town.
He and Ricky followed the winding road through the town. The imposing hall grew larger with each passing step. At the gate to the hall, the guards inquired of them, and Ricky announced himself. They were let inside the courtyard but told to wait. Some stable boys came out and escorted their stroomphblutels away. Henry felt compelled to pat his beast goodbye for not throwing him off and for the deft blow it had delivered during the roadway fight.
The towering doors were opened, and a guard motioned for them to enter. Henry looked at Ricky and was met with a look of surprise that likely matched his own.
“I guess my family still has some pull here,” Ricky said with a shrug.
Henry didn’t want to think about why the Allisters would be so easily welcomed into Vasimus’s home. He couldn’t imagine Sarah in this ominous place. He’d only ever seen her in her quaint little bookshop. His own home, a one-story ranch, wasn’t even comparable in size to Sarah’s two-story building. How was he supposed to compete with a guy who basically owned an entire kingdom? He felt small as he realized he was about to enter the home of his competition, her former love interest. He sighed and walked up the stairs with Ricky. When they entered a great room three times the size of the one at Allister Hall, he groaned inwardly.
“He just had to have a castle, didn’t he?” he muttered under his breath.
IT HAD to be close to five o’clock, Sarah thought as she turned away from the balcony and went back into her room—now her prison. She walked over to the door and listened, as she had numerous times since being locked away, but heard nothing. A maid had brought some food around lunchtime, and a guard stood by the doorway as the woman silently deposited it on a small table in the corner before she left. Neither had said two words to her, and the door was locked as soon as it closed.
As she paced away from the door again, she jumped at the sound of a rattling noise on the other side. She turned around and saw Vasimus standing there. His face held no joy or anger, just a blank look as their eyes met.
“You have visitors. Your nephew is here,” he said, looking away.
She felt her heart skip a beat. Ricky! He had come for her! What a clever boy. He shouldn’t be here though. Not with that face of his father’s he carried around.
She walked cautiously toward the door, wondering if Vasimus had only come to inform her of the news. She watched as he stepped away from the door and into the hallway, leaving it open behind him. Stepping out into the hall, Sarah glanced up at Vasimus. His gaze was fixed on the wall behind her. It seemed he didn’t want to make eye contact.
“Your nephew may stay here. It is too late to travel back out on the road tonight.” The key ring in Vasimus’s hand rattled. He clasped his fingers around it to silence the noise and walked toward the door of his room. “Your door will remain unlocked,” he muttered over his shoulder before he went inside.
As soon as his door closed, Sarah raced down the stairwell. How had Ricky found his way to Daundecort Hall? He’d never been there before. Hopefully he had seen Netta before coming. With any luck, Netta would have turned up something that she left behind and sent it along with him.
As she reached the bottom step and looked across the great room between the stone pillars that supported the ceiling, she saw Ricky gawking at his surroundings. She smiled for the first time since before Vasimus had shattered the rain barrel on her balcony. She grasped a handful of her gown and ran toward him.
“Ricky! Oh, Ricky!” she cried. She wanted to weep at the sight of him but settled for throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.
“Are you all right?” Ricky grasped her elbows and looked her over.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine, but you shouldn’t have come here,” she said, scolding him in whispers, knowing their voices would carry throughout the room.
“Yeah, yeah. Save it. You don’t look so hot back at home. Once we figured it out, I wasn’t about to let you stay here by yourself with your crazy boyfriend.”
Sarah scoffed. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Her scowl didn’t last long. She was too excited to see him and had so many questions. “How did you get here?”
“I had a little help.” Ricky glanced over his shoulder.
The sound of scraping against the floor startled her. She scanned the room and gasped when she saw Henry next to one of the pillars. She looked him up and down as he approached. Henry—in Farwin Wood. This couldn’t be happening.
“Henry?” she said, taking in the sight of him in Farwin Wood clothing.
Henry knew he shouldn’t doubt Ricky’s story about the book anymore, but it still didn’t change the fact that his mind wanted to find fault in the idea. Seeing Sarah, however, in her long, smoky-blue gown with its silver and white trim, her hair wound into an intricate coif at the back of her head, left him stunned. She looked beautiful. She looked like she should be called Lady Sarah. More importantly, she looked alive and tangible. He could see color in her cheeks and vibrancy in her eyes, but he wanted to touch her, just to prove he wasn’t dreaming.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered. She cast a quick look of disbelief at Ricky.
“I figured I’d better not come here alone,” Ricky said.
“I
s it you? How can it be you?” Henry said. “You were—you were so pale and cold.”
Sarah winced. “You saw me like that? I’m sorry, Henry. I hope this whole thing hasn’t scared you or—made you question your sanity.”
Henry let out a weak laugh. “I’ll be careful who I call crazy after this, that’s for sure.”
Sarah smiled at the look on his face. He did believe. She was glad she wasn’t the one who'd had to tell him all he needed to know to get to this state of acceptance. She didn’t think she could have borne seeing how he must have reacted to waking up in Farwin Wood.
Henry reached out to touch her, but hesitated. She stood still, giving him a look to let him know she understood his need. He grasped her arm, and she laid a hand on his chest so he could finish the epiphany—that they were both here. He let out a soft laugh.
“It’s really me, Henry. I’m all right.”
Henry gave her a hug and whispered, “Lord, I thought you were going to die.”
Sarah rested her hands on the backs of his arms and squeezed. She closed her eyes against the leather vest on his solid front. The comforting feeling of being in his arms for the first time in her life was like a dream, especially after what she had gone through that day. His embrace was so tender, compassionate, but controlled. If this was how he held her during a near-death experience, it was nothing compared to the way Vasimus would have reacted in his all-consuming possessive manner. She pulled her head back and looked up at Henry. He looked concerned, but it was nothing like the dark and intense looks she was used to from Vasimus.
“Aunt Sarah?” Ricky said, chiming in. “We couldn’t find anything at Allister Hall that you might have lost.”
“Oh, no,” she moaned. “What am I going to do? I can’t stay here. You have to go back and look again.”
“No. That’s just it. I don’t think it’s at Allister Hall. Henry had an idea.”
She looked back to Henry. He was the last person she’d expect to have an idea about the matter.
“Sarah, you woke up here?” Henry asked.
