by Heidi Hanley
She shrieked. Scrambling on all fours, she tried to move away, but the man spoke again, more firmly this time. “Mouse, stop. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe.”
She brushed hair out of her eyes. As soon as she saw his scar and the knot of dark hair at the back of his head, she relaxed. “You’re Sigel,” was all she could get out, still breathless from her fright and flight.
The big man kneeled next to her. “Yes, I’m Sigel, the king’s lord marshall. You must be Milady Mouse.” Using hands that were surprisingly gentle for their size, he began to pluck the leaves and branches out of her hair. “Okay, now?”
She nodded, gathering her wits and her strength to stand. While she wouldn’t have called him handsome, per se, as Gertrude Tollemy had, he was arresting, with his raven hair and the vivid scar running down the right side of his face into a dark beard that gave him a fearsome look. His eyes, though, were dark and kind. She believed him when he said that she was all right.
“What happened back there?” asked Briana. “What did you do to the tree? Where are the deer?”
“Just a simple hatchet through its branch. It’ll live. The deer weren’t injured. They ran off.”
“Thank you, Lord Sigel. You saved my life. The deer tried to guide me through the orchard without waking the trees. Oh! I didn’t thank them.”
He looked surprised. “Thank them?”
“Of course. They said they would help me get through the orchard and they did try, but…”
“You talked to them?”
“Well, yes, but they talked to me first. Is that unusual?”
Sigel’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It’s not unheard of, but very few people have the ability to communicate with animals.”
“How did you know I was here?”
He smiled. “Word is getting around. I, and many others, have spent years waiting for you to arrive. Will you allow me the privilege of serving you as I would serve my own king, milady, and let me bring you to Ard Darach?”
Uncertain about the etiquette for interacting with a member of a royal entourage, Briana bent in a brief, clumsy curtsy and nodded. “I’ll be grateful for your protection, lord marshall, and your company.”
He looked overhead. “We probably won’t make it much farther today. We should start looking for a place to camp for the night.”
They went only a short way before finding a fairly hidden spot in some pines near a clear running brook.
She watched Sigel dig a hole and then a smaller one beside it that tunneled into the main hole. Inside the larger cavity he piled dried leaves, bark and small twigs. Soon he had a fire going that would give them heat and a little light, but would not be seen by anyone outside their camp.
“I’ve never seen that done. What’s the second hole for?”
“It allows air into the fire and makes it burn hot and almost smokeless. We’ll not cook tonight, though,” he said, handing her a strip of dried meat. “The smell could attract unwanted attention.”
Briana pulled out Genevieve’s bread and added that to the evening’s meal. While they ate they talked, keeping their voices low. She summarized all that had happened to date and when she finished with her rescue from Shamwa’s men, he shook his head.
“They don’t sound like Gray Military at all. Shamwa’s army is made up mostly of descendants of the Moherians. They’re big men, warriors by nature. Not terribly bright, mind you, but there’s no one to compare for brute strength. They integrated into Uisneach culture over the generations, but it doesn’t take much to spur them to war. The chaos created by Shamwa’s betrayal was just enough to bring them to his side. The men you describe don’t fit; they’re just a couple of his henchmen.”
“Well, luckily, they weren’t too competent.” She pulled her cloak a little closer around her shoulders. “Tell me about Shamwa. Why does he hate King Brath so much?”
Sigel leaned back against the rock behind him. “Brath and Shamwa are as different as night and day. Brath wants to take Uisneach forward, build harbors to increase trade between us and other lands, and work with the faeries to bring magic back into the world. Shamwa, on the other hand, believes that by opening borders between lands, we make ourselves vulnerable and risk losing power.
“You have to understand that Shamwa is consumed with the desire to be powerful, and to that end, would levy heavy tax and rent burdens on the people in order to increase his own wealth.”
“But that makes the people of Uisneach poorer and ultimately weakens the kingdom instead of strengthening it,” she replied, recalling Genevieve Wells’ words.
“Exactly.” Sigel nodded. “Brath tried every way to Sunday to explain that to him, but Shamwa wouldn’t listen. Personally, I think Brath worked too hard to try to get Shamwa to see reason, when he should have just exiled or killed him.”
Briana frowned. “That seems extreme.”
“Some people who crave power for its own sake will hurt or destroy anyone or anything that stands in their way. Shamwa is one of those people. Had King Barclay not been so determined to include many voices among his advisors, Shamwa would never have gotten this far. I do understand Barclay’s and Brath’s reasoning, though.”
“Keep your friends close and enemies closer.”
Sigel nodded. “It’s a reasonable approach, but the risk is that your enemy can scheme behind your back and ruin you, as Shamwa did. At the time, Brath didn’t really consider Shamwa an enemy, just a…”
“A disgruntled employee,” she finished for him. “So why is he after me?”
Sigel looked sideways at her. “Because you represent a possible threat to his plan, for starters. I’m guessing he knows about the prophecy and thinks if he controls you, he controls the prophecy. He’d be able to lift the curse and finish killing Brath. Besides, if he thinks you’re meant for Brath, he’ll want you for himself.”
“He sounds like a real jerk,” she said. “He’s got another think coming, if he thinks I can be had that easily. I’m not a piece of property for anyone’s pleasure.”
He looked down at his lap. “You do know that part of this prophecy says that you are meant to marry the king?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“There are no buts, milady,” Sigel said firmly, looking back up at her. “The prophecy is clear about that point. The Mouse will marry the King of Uisneach and their children carry on the Taranian line.”
Shivering, Briana fumbled around in the knapsack for the tent. “Where will you sleep, Lord Sigel? I was given this tent to camouflage myself at night, but do I really need it, with you here? Or…” she was running out of words to get her meaning across.
“I’ll sleep by the fire, milady, but I think you should put up your little shelter so you might have some privacy. I’ll keep watch.”
She nodded and began to unfold and arrange the fabric. Sigel raised the water bag to his mouth. When she climbed in to test it, virtually disappearing, Sigel choked and sputtered. She stepped out again. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you – it’s a magical tent from the gnomes.”
Sigel stroked his beard as he studied the contraption. “Clever fellows, those gnomes.”
Not yet ready to sleep, she sat back down and asked him about himself. She learned he had come from a long line of marshalls who had served kings for many generations, and that he’d begun training when he was only four years old.
“Did you never want to do something else with your life?” she asked.
“Never did.” He reached for another piece of bread. “This land’s been blessed with some great kings and has gone centuries without having a war. Being lord marshall to the king means having an opportunity to help him work on things to keep the land prosperous.
“Were we more warlike, maybe the job wouldn’t be so appealing, but I’ve been honored and happy to be a part of King Barclay and King Brath’s reigns.”
“If you haven’t had any battles, then how –” She stopped, embarrassed by her question, but unable to force her eyes
away from the damaged flesh along his cheek. He understood and with a light laugh answered the unasked question.
“It was no big act of bravery that caused the wound, sad to say. My scar resulted from childhood foolishness. When Brath and I were young men, we hoped for a war; all young men do, I suppose. We battled each other to hone our warrior skills. When we fought, we held nothing back. One day, we were dueling with daggers along the castle wall, which was a good fifty feet from the ground. You’d have thought we’d have better sense than to be prancing around and jabbing at each other up there, but like most young men, we had more sass than sense. In the middle of the duel, which I’m very sure I was winning, Brath thrust his knife, and when I jumped to avoid the hit, I slipped off the wall. My fall was broken by a big oak tree. Though it prevented a harder landing, one of the limbs scraped down the side of my face and laid it wide open.” He laughed at the memory, but she noticed a glimmer of pain, too. “I screamed like a baby and everyone came running. Blood was pouring down the side of my face. The women thought I’d been killed. Brath came running down around the wall and was shaking all over for fear he’d mortally wounded me. ‘I’m so sorry, Sigel, so sorry. Don’t die, please don’t die.’” His voice dripped melodrama as he tried to portray the prince’s angst. Briana giggled.
“It’s amusing now, but I can tell you for several weeks after the accident, there was no laughing. The wound became infected and nearly did take my life. Brath and I were both punished, but I know for a fact the punishment meted out by King Barclay was nothing compared to the punishment Brath put on himself. He’s never gotten over it. I’m sure that he feels bad every time he looks at me.
“He’s got a good heart and a powerful sense of justice. I like to think that maybe our misadventures contributed to his sense of humility and compassion. It’s what makes him such an excellent king, and why we have to break this damned enchantment and restore him to the throne.”
“When King Brath is freed, what will happen to Lord Shamwa and the Gray Military?”
“Milady, there’s only one way this is going to end. Even if you, and probably Brath, find it distasteful, Shamwa must be killed, or he’ll continue his efforts to overthrow Brath and control this land for his own despicable purposes.”
“Can you kill Shamwa?”
Sigel picked up a small branch lying near the fire and snapped it in two pieces. “Just like that. Brath is brave, but he isn’t ruthless. I can be, and I won’t hesitate to kill if it means protecting those I care about. I guess that’s why I’m the warrior of the two of us, and he’s the ruler.”
“So why haven’t you killed Lord Shamwa?”
“Because of the prophecy. You’re the one who is supposed to save the king. Nowhere in there does it say Shamwa is killed before that happens. Besides, we don’t know exactly what role he plays in releasing Brath, and I don’t want to take any chances until the king is back on the throne. The best I’ve been able to do is to keep troops together and trained to push the Gray Military back. Shamwa’s been off limits until now.”
“How much military do you command, Lord Sigel, and, just curious, will they be coming to help us?”
“Our army numbers in the few thousands at the moment, spread across Uisneach to try and keep order. Now that you’ve arrived, they’ve been alerted and are on their way. The plan is to meet at the Dromdara Mountains. We’ll meet a few small units along the way, and I suspect Silas will be along shortly. We’ll recruit more men from the towns we pass through. We want as many men as possible when we get to Ard Darach. It is certain that the prime minister will try and meet us there with his own military.”
“Who is Silas?”
“The Royal Bard. He is the only one, besides me, that escaped the castle before the enchantment. I ordered him to come with me to help catch the druid, Artanin, and the rest of the knights to stay and protect Brath.” Regret darkened his features. “Anyway… milady, we’ll want to start early in the morning. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
She nodded. “Sigel, thank you for everything today. I would be dead if not for you. The king and the kingdom should be grateful for such a valiant defender as you.”
Sigel had the grace to flush and lower his head. “Thank you, milady. I’m glad I could be there for you. I only hope Maker will see us both to Ard Darach soon, so we can release Brath. I’ll say this to you, but deny it to him – I miss not only my king, but my best friend. I must thank you for accepting this quest to save him.”
She waved his thanks away. “I’m not sure I actually did accept it. It seems like it accepted me. Lord Sigel, before we go any further, could you do me one favor?”
“Of course, milady. What can I do?”
“My name is Briana Brennan. Could you please call me Briana and not Mouse, and most certainly not milady?”
“But you are the Mouse; why does it trouble you?”
“I’ve been called Mouse since childhood, but I’ve outgrown it. And milady is way too formal. I hate being treated like royalty. There’s been way too much of that already. Just Briana, if you please.”
He rubbed his beard. “You are royalty. You will be queen, and it wouldn’t be right for me to address you so familiarly.”
“At the moment, we are partners on a journey to save the king. If it turns out I’m actually going to be queen, then I’ll reconsider. Besides, you call the king by his first name. I would like the same courtesy from someone who might become my first-in-command.” She offered her hand. He took it and the deal was made. It was a nice thought to be this man’s partner, and even better thinking they might become friends.
As she stepped inside the tent, she heard him whisper to himself, “You’ll make him a wonderful queen.”
Her stomach clenched. I cannot think about that now. One day at a time.
Oblivion claimed her quickly, but temporarily. She woke to the back and forth hooting of owls and other sounds of night and wondered if Sigel had fallen asleep. She poked her head out of her shelter and saw he was wide awake, stretched out by the fire, with his back against a log.
“A bit eerie, seeing just your head pop out of nowhere.”
“Kind of cool, isn’t it?” she responded, crawling out to sit next to him by the fire.
He cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Briana was reminded that her slang wouldn’t always be understood. “Interesting or fun.”
“Then yes, I suppose it is rather… cool. Can’t sleep?”
“I did for a while, but now I’m awake. I was wondering, do you think the Gray Military can be reintegrated onto our side when we start rebuilding our army?”
Sigel’s lips curved in a smile. “Our army, is it lass? Sounds like you’re already stepping into the job.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I certainly want to be on the winning team.”
“I think if Lord Shamwa is destroyed, the Grays will simply transfer allegiance back to Brath. The problem is that treachery will always be their tendency. I doubt we can ever trust them.” He paused. “Well there’s exceptions. Sir Cruahan is a descendant of the Moherians and he is one of Brath’s most faithful knights. Nothing and no one could make him betray his king.”
She sighed. It seemed that in every world there was an element of terror that plagued whatever good might try to rule the day. She looked into the still, dark night. “Why don’t you try to sleep and I’ll keep watch.”
He yawned and nodded. “Perhaps I could close my eyes for a bit. But if you hear or see anything unusual, wake me immediately. Understood?”
“I will, Sigel. Trust me, I’m no hero. If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”
He rolled onto his side and drew his cloak over him and in less time than it takes to say “kingdom of Uisneach,” he was snoring.
As she watched the fire and occasionally threw another log on, she imagined this kind king whom she was meant to save. Sigel painted a picture of a man who was smart, compassionate and
humble. Added to the physical description Gertrude Tollemy had provided, she was starting to imagine some kind of rock star. She wondered if the two of them would actually click. Again the jitters danced around in her belly. To distract herself, she took out her map and studied it. Where are we, anyway? She could see the terrible orchard on the map. Not too far ahead was another crossroads, and beyond that, Tynan Ibor, the dark forest. Should they go through this wild, dark wood? Luckily, she no longer had to decide on her own. Dromdara was still a long way away. This was no overnight trip for sure, but when they got to the castle and King Brath… her thoughts trailed off with the closing of her eyelids.
Chapter Eight
Beauty and the Beasts
“Milady, Briana, rise and shine. Time to be going.”
Her eyes flew open to see Sigel sitting next to her, the pale light of dawn casting a rosy shadow on their camp. “I am so sorry, Sigel. I must have dozed off. A great guard I make.”
“You’ve not been sleeping long.”
“How do you know…” she said, then shook her head. “Did you get any rest?”
“All I needed.”
“I have another question.”
“Aye, what is it?”
“You said yesterday that word was getting around that I was here. How? If everyone is being kept apart, how do people know about me?”
He handed her an apple and some crusty bread to eat as he munched on his own.
“I hope the apple didn’t come from one of those nasty old trees back in the orchard?”
“It did. I grabbed a couple before we ran. They owed us that much.”
“When you put it that way…” She bit fiercely into the fruit.
“The crows.”
“What?”
“The crows are spreading the word. They’ve been the only source of information between the kingdoms since the curse.”
“So that crow I keep seeing is traveling all over Uisneach?”
“Well, you’re probably referring to Sir Thomas, the clan chief of Winge Mansion. He’s a shapeshifter. All of them can shift when they’ve a mind to.”
