He rolled over and opened his eyes, yawning. When he saw her, he sat up quickly, whispering, “What are you doing in here, Melenthia? You know you could get me in trouble if you’re caught in here before hours.”
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
He looked around to make sure no one else was stirring, and whispered back, “Okay. I’ll meet you out the back door, under the overhang of the grain bins. Stay there, I’ll be right out.”
She nodded and tip-toed out the door of the bunkhouse and through the stables out the back door. She went around the corner and waited next to the large grain bins that lined the outer wall. He came out five minutes later, dressed for his day. He wore thick homespun wool pants and a wool shirt. His pants were tucked in knee high boots, and he wore a leather apron. His brown hair was a bit messy from sleep, and his blue eyes were not yet alert. When he was close enough for her to hear him, he whispered, “What are you doing creeping around this time of the morning? If your father finds you out here, he’ll kill you.”
“My father is no longer my worry any more. He’s not himself these days, even I have noticed that, but his act yesterday has me convinced.”
“Your marriage proposal to the duke, I assume?”
“Yes. If he was in his right mind, he would never punish me so.”
“There is talk around that Fallon has made a pact with the Dark One. His power is growing stronger every day, and people fear he will start a war. Your father’s realm is in danger.”
“He frightens me. I won’t subject myself to his will. I’m going to run.”
His eyes became large and frightened. “No, Melenthia, think about what you’re saying. If you leave, you will be banished from this house.”
“I don’t care. My father is going to sell me and his soul to that monster. I won’t stay here and do what everyone thinks is my duty. If I run, he can’t force me into something I don’t want to do.”
“If you run, Fallon will hunt you down and have you anyway.”
“He’ll have to catch me first.”
“This is no joke. That man does not take no so easily. He won’t just walk away humiliated; he’ll find you.”
“Would you have me marry him and risk my life under his roof, after he practically took me by force under mine?” She had told him about the night of her birthday.
“No.”
“Then help me, Lucan. You’re the only one who can help me. Kevaan was supposed to, but he has not yet returned from whatever errand he had.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to cut my hair.”
“What?”
“I need to disguise myself as much as I can. If my hair is long, I will surely stand out. If I dress in my riding clothes and my hair is short, anyone not looking close enough will think I’m a man. Please, Lucan, don’t make me do it myself.”
“What else?”
“I need you to sneak into the armory. I’m taking my sword with me.”
“That would surely get you noticed.”
“I will keep it hidden unless I need it. It was a gift to me when I was born. It’s rightfully mine, and I will take it. Please, Lucan.”
He shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
She gazed intently at him. “He’ll be here in three days. I don’t have much time.”
“Three days? No, he is already on his way. Our watchman on the Aaralyn border sent word yesterday afternoon that he was in route. He’s expected to arrive by this evening.”
Her eyes were large now. “That really leaves me no time. Please, Lucan, help me.”
He sighed and felt his heart sink. She was right. She would never survive under his roof, even as tough as she was, but her leaving broke his heart. He didn’t have many friends besides her, and he loved her deeply. They had become friends even though it was frowned upon. She always made sure he was well fed and employed, and he kept her apprised of all the castle gossip. He loved her dearly and would worry about her everyday, but he agreed to help her. He knew that allowing Fallon to have her would put her in worse danger, danger even Kevaan couldn’t keep her from.
“Okay, Mel, I’ll do as you ask, but it will take me a little while to get into the armory. I can’t just waltz right in there under their nose and take whatever I want; that’s why it’s guarded.”
“Okay, I understand, but in the meantime I need you to cut my hair.”
He looked out into the sky. “We don’t have much time. The kitchen staff will be up soon, and, if you’re seen, things will not go well.”
“Okay. Get your shears and hurry.”
He left her standing by the bins, then returned almost immediately with the shears. She turned her back to him so the little light that was starting to peek over the horizon would help him see. He looked at her gorgeous hair and hesitated.
“Come on, Lucan. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“You have to. Just think of me as one of the steeds and you won’t have any trouble.”
“You are not a steed, Melenthia, you are a beautiful woman with a gorgeous head of hair.”
She sighed. “Give me those.” She tried to grab them from him, but he pulled them away.
“No. I’ll do it. I don’t want it to be all uneven and look like it was done in haste. People will notice that.”
“Alright then, just hurry up.”
He took another deep breath, grabbed a handful of her curly red locks and chopped. He cut quickly and expertly; trimming the tails and manes of the horses was his expertise. He winced every time a large lock of hair fell to the ground. Soon though, he had cut it all off, and she turned to look at him. He left it just below her ears, and she ran her fingers through it, smiling.
“How do I look?”
“Not quite like a man, but you might pass for an older boy. There’s nothing I can do about the curls, but if you keep your hood up most of the time, you might just be okay. If anyone looks too closely, your eyes will surely give you away though.” He was frowning now.
“I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be.”
“Don’t worry, Lucan, I’ll be okay. Kevaan has taught me well. I will stick to the villages where people know me, and I will ride down the back roads, away from the trade routes.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know that yet.” She heard someone walking around in the stables and looked to the sky. The sun was just starting its ascent and small shafts of light were starting to seep onto the landscape.
“I have to hurry. I must get back up to my room and pack some things before too many stir. I will have to take the back stairs down to the cellar and then back outside through the loading ramp.”
“Meet me just inside the orchard, near the water well. I will have your sword and your horse all ready for you. What do you require in the packs?”
“I’ll sneak some food out of the larder, and will grab a water skin from the wine cellar. Just make sure I have a bed roll, and enough tools to help me out in the wilderness. I will stick to the woods, more coverage and less people.”
He looked deep into her eyes now. “Melenthia, I’m sorry.”
“It is not your fault, Lucan.”
“Go on, get moving. I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes.”
She slunk back down the backside of the stables and across the common, her back tight up against the inner wall. The change of the guard would occur in only twenty minutes, so she had to make sure she was out the door and down to the orchard before that, or they would see her. She sneaked back in the door and up the back stairs to her room. She shut the door behind her and proceeded to fill a traveling bag with items she would need. She packed light, not more than what was absolutely necessary: a change of riding clothes, one set of clean under things, and bathing soap. She would pack the rest of the bag with enough food to last at least a week; after that, she’d have to buy more. She o
pened her jewel case and pulled off the top tray. There were several gold pieces that she had saved, and she stuck those in the inner pocket of her riding cloak. She threw on her cloak, tossed the bag over her shoulder and stopped for a moment to look at herself in the glass. She was curvy, but it was hidden underneath the baggy riding clothes, and her hair, now short, was shiny in the candlelight. Lucan was right, her eyes would be a problem. If anyone looked close, they would recognize her because of them. There was nothing she could do about it. She could disguise her gender with baggy clothes, cut her hair to make herself more manly, but the eyes were a dead give away. Maybe this was a stupid idea. She’d never be able to hide who she was from everyone. At some point someone would recognize her. She sighed, it was too late now.
She made a plan. She would travel north to Tamerlane, then make her way west across the bridge, and then over the border of Aaralyn into Isamar. There she would know no one and would be safe from the spies in Xenos. The Dark Woods would keep her hidden for most of the way, then she could cross the Xanthe River into Isamar. She ran her fingers through her hair again and sighed. This is what her life had come to. A life on the run, hiding from an ogre who wanted to own her. She looked back on all the men who had offered their hand to her and wondered if maybe she should have given herself to one of them. There were a couple she recalled that would have at least treated her kindly. She did not love any of them, for men of royal blood bored her and stifled her need to be who she was. But at least she would be taken care of and would not have had to resort to this. She sighed again. There has never been a man of noble blood that she loved deep enough to give her body to, much less her life to, and now it was too late.
She turned away from the glass and went to her door. She opened it just a crack and peered down the hall in each direction. She had given her hand maiden the night off since she had wanted no one’s presence last night, so there was no one lurking about. She slipped from the room and quickly and quietly moved down the hall to the back stairs. She took them down to the back side of the kitchen and listened. She could hear voices now, and cursed herself for taking too long in front of the mirror. The kitchen help were up and preparing for the meals of the day. She peeked through the door, cracked just enough to see into the room, and saw three staff. One was at the washtub, another was chopping food at the butcher block, and the other was just carrying items from out of the larder. She needed to get in there to grab some food, but she couldn’t be seen. She waited until the woman had passed, her back to the door, and then she made her move. She crouched down and slunk passed the three workers who now all had their backs to her. She opened the larder door just enough to squeeze in and slipped quietly inside. She hurriedly packed as much food as she could into the pack: dried meat, a couple loaves of bread, a hunk of cheese, several apples, and some leftover tarts that were left from last night’s dinner.
She opened the door just a crack again and peered out. The three woman were busy working and chatting among themselves, which made her padded footfalls on the stone floor almost undetectable. She crouched down again and headed for the far stairs that led down into the cellar. The only time anyone was in the cellar was on the afternoons every other week when the supplies came in. Three kitchen workers would unload the cart that brought the supplies, check them in, and load them onto the overstock shelves. It was quiet this morning so she had no trouble getting in and going out into the inner bailey from the loading ramp. Getting across the bailey would be another matter entirely. The day shift of guards would be in place by now, and that meant a group of four standing watch at the gate, right across from the entrance to the stables. If she was seen, she would be stopped, and Gerard never missed anything. He had eyes like a hawk, that was why he was Captain of the Guard. She would then have to explain her cut hair and the travel bag she carried, and, if she did that, her escape would be foiled. She had to be out of the castle and far away before her father or anyone else discovered she was gone. She had to have a good head start or Fallon would surely catch up to her.
She waited until there was a clear path, when the sentries were turned away from her, pacing back and forth across the gates. When their backs were to her, she ran across the bailey, staying as close up against the wall as possible, but she didn’t see the guard coming out of the kitchen door. He stepped in front of her and smiled down at her.
“Where could you possibly be going this time of morning, Princess?” he asked her, eyeing her now cropped hair. He didn’t look angry, in fact, he had a look of amusement on his face. She knew him. He was a young knight, newly appointed into her father’s guard, who had always been nice to her. He was the same young squire who always covered for her whenever she was breaking the rules. She didn’t want to get him in trouble again, but she really needed him today.
“I wanted to go into town and get some things for myself. I wanted to get to the merchants before the crowds. It may be a while before I ever see the people of Kingswell again.”
He touched a short curl falling on her ear and frowned. “What happened to your lovely hair?”
“It was a hindrance. I decided I liked it better short, if it is any business of yours.”
He wasn’t buying it. He frowned at her and glanced over his shoulder to see if Gerard was at the gate yet. He looked back down at her. She was nervous.
“I believe Your Highness has been put into a terrible situation.”
She swallowed and looked at him. She decided maybe truth was best. “Please, Tomas, I must leave. I have no choice.”
He glanced over his shoulder again, saw Gerard coming out of the guardhouse and stepped in front of her to block her from view.
“Let me help you,” he said as she nervously looked toward the stables. “I will not let that barbarian have you. If Lucan is helping, I will to.”
She was shocked that he would risk losing his post for her. “Thank you.”
He walked along with her toward the stables, keeping her hidden from the view of the Captain of the Guard, and she slipped into the stables. He glanced her way quickly. “Good luck, Your Highness.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Tomas, I will not forget this.”
The stable door closed behind her. She tip-toed across the hay covered stalls and slipped out the back door, crouching down behind the grain bins. She was almost there. She made sure the voices she heard coming from inside the stables were on the far end of the stalls, then she walked briskly toward the orchard. It was bitter cold, so she wrapped her woolen cloak around her shoulders and pulled the fur lined hood over her head. Her thick woolen pants and linen shirt would keep her warm for awhile, but the elements would eventually sink in. She slipped in between a row of now bare fruit trees, and waited for Lucan. Only a few minutes passed before she saw him approaching, leading her horse, who was laden down with two full saddle bags. He reached her side and looked behind him to make sure he wasn’t followed. He handed the reins to her. She took them and tried to smile. He took her sword off his hip and handed it to her. She pulled it from its scabbard and looked at it.
The blade was Elvin steel, the strongest metal ever forged, and the color was almost translucent gleaming in the sunlight. The hilt was gold, with black glossy leather wrapped tightly around it as protection. The hilt wrapped around her hand snakelike, and the pommel had a large purple stone. It always amazed her how comfortable it felt in her hand, almost as if it had been made for her. When she held it she could feel a power emanating from it, and it sang to her. She didn’t know why, but there was a reason, she felt it. It was a beautiful sword, none other it’s equal, and it belonged to her. Her parents thought a sword a strange gift for a girl but accepted the honor with grace. When she turned sixteen, her father told her the story and said that when she married, it would go with her to her new home to pass on to her son. Since then, it had been wrapped and locked away in a special case in the armory under the protection of the Captain of the Guard. Every now and then, she would butter him up and talk him i
nto letting her see it, but after a few moments of admiring it, he would take it back and lock it away again. It was rightfully hers, and she would take it with her. She didn’t know why she had been given it, but she always had a feeling that the elves had a purpose to do so. Some day she vowed to find out what it was. Her father probably ordered it to stay locked up, thinking it had been a bad omen for her peculiar behavior. A sword for a girl was not normal, but then she was not a normal girl. She slid the sword back into the scabbard and tied it snugly underneath the saddle. “Thank you for getting this.”
“Don’t thank me; it was Tomas.”
She smiled inside. If only there were men with royal blood who cared so much.
He reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small knife. He handed it to her and frowned. “I pray you will never have to use this, but just in case.”
She placed the knife in one of the saddle bags and tied the straps tight. She took her traveling pack off her back and tied it to the pommel of the saddle.
“Now go, Mel, make haste. Fallon and his men are on their way. You must be far away when he arrives. Ride hard all day; don’t stop for anything. Travel only the back roads and forest trails. You won’t be so easily seen. As soon as you are safe where Fallon will not find you, send word. I won’t rest until I know you’re safe. If anyone asks me, I will tell them nothing, even on penalty of punishment. I promise I will not betray you.”
She smiled at him again and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Lucan, for your friendship all these years. I would never have been able to cope without you. When Kevaan was away, you were the only friend I had. I will never forget you. I pray that one day things will be different, and I can return. Until then, take care and know that I love you.”
“And I you, Princess. Please be careful. Trust no one.”
She swung up into the saddle and settled her horse.
“Go through the orchard. I have left the back gate open. Go through it and take the meadow all the way to the stream, then go through the forest from there,”
“I know where to go, Lucan. I have traveled this countryside thousands of times. I will not get lost.”
Dark One Rising Page 8
