Kethril

by Carroll, John H.

  Anilyia decided not to waste time being polite after their treatment last night. “The only trouble is your sorry excuse for an inn. I was going to order breakfast, but that looks disgusting.” She pointed at the nearest bowl of slop. “We’ll be leaving immediately.”

  “There’s the matter of paying for the extra grain your horses ate,” the innkeeper told them. He had a cantankerous tone to his voice that matched his expression.

  “We’re not paying anything extra, you fool. A copper would have been too much for the room. I’m shocked the bedbugs didn’t steal our belongings.”

  “You either pay or you don’t get your horses.” He jammed a finger down on the bar. Nearby patrons watched with interest.

  Anilyia lifted her chin and stood tall. “We are leaving with our horses. You may attempt to stop us if you wish, but I advise against it.” She turned and walked out of the common room, heading outside to the stables with Tathan close behind. The rain had become the miserable drizzle once again.

  It wasn’t going to be that easy however. The innkeeper followed them outside to where a squad of soldiers was hanging out in the stable yard. They were different from the soldiers in the capital. These men were unkempt and dirty. Their tabards had stains and the chainmail showed signs of rust.

  The captain spit tobacco on the ground where it mixed in with the mud. “Is there a problem here, Innkeeper?” he asked in a nasally voice. His eyes were shifty and his mouth twisted in contempt for life.

  “Yes, Captain Fibald! These two are trying to leave without paying their bill. They owe a gold piece for the extra food their horse ate and another gold for the damage they did to the room and five more gold for threatening honest patrons last night when they came in!” the innkeeper lied through his teeth. Anilyia was outraged and sputtered, too angry to say anything intelligible.

  “Is that right?” the captain asked with a malicious smile while walking up to Tathan. “Well perhaps a few weeks in jail will teach them a lesson.”

  Captain Fibald’s head flew from his neck and Tathan’s blade dripped blood once more. It had happened faster than anyone could react except for Anilyia. She had dashed backward, afraid her lover would do exactly that. The soldiers froze in shock and the innkeeper soiled himself. The only sound was that of the captain’s head tumbling down a rivulet of water to the street beyond.

  Anilyia didn’t even have the desire to scream that time, which was good on one hand and bad on the other, considering that she was becoming used to gory deaths. Instead, she went to stand in between Tathan and the guards.

  “I am Princess Anilyia Ullbra of Mayncal, under the Protection of King Turman Cranwer.” That raised some eyebrows. She gestured to Tathan. “This is my personal bodyguard responsible for protecting my life and purity.” The purity part was laying it on a bit thick and if it had been true, he was doing a terrible job. “We have diplomatic immunity in all matters by the king’s orders.” It was probably true. “I demand our horses be brought with gear immediately.” She folded her arms and hoped it would be enough for the soldiers to avoid dying by Tathan’s sword.

  There was a sergeant and corporal in the squad. They both ran at full speed to get the horses. That was good enough for the other soldiers. Half went to help with the horses and the other half fearfully moved to gather the captain’s body. Tathan cleaned his sword on the body before allowing them to drag it away. Anilyia decided to ask why he did that when he was able to talk.

  It didn’t take long at all for soldiers to return with the horses. Tathan double-checked the buckles and fittings on Anilyia’s horse before helping her up. Then he checked his own and mounted.

  They rode out of the stable yard while the soldiers dragged the captain’s body in the opposite direction. Spectators watched the macabre scene, although no one got too close. One of the men had picked up the head and was carrying it away from his body, trying not to make eye contact.

  They settled into a trot and passed the last houses of the village a few minutes later. Tathan didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face was severe. Anilyia sank into her own thoughts awhile.

  She thought about being home in the warm sunlight of Mayncal. People would feed her succulent fruit and everyone would be sickeningly polite to her. Tathan would be naked next to her the entire time. She sighed dreamily. He looked at her and she smiled, reaching for his hand.

  He exhaled and some of the tension left his body. They rode side-by-side, holding hands for the next hour. Tathan still didn’t speak, but just being next to him was fine for the time being.

  The horses were doing better from the rest, but it wouldn’t be wise to push them. They passed the occasional farmer or rider. Most of the time they would nod or wave, but there was often a look of suspicion or even outright hostility.

  They rode around the next village, much to her dismay. When they passed a house where the smell of fresh baked pie slipped through the rain to her nose, she about cried. About an hour after they passed the house with the pie, a herd of cows was standing in the road.

  The cows were staring at them. It was creepy. When the herd started moving toward them, Tathan and Anilyia turned around. Then they were galloping away from a stampede of crazed bovines. A couple minutes later, the cows slowed down and stopped chasing. Tathan and Anilyia slipped off the road into a small wooded area.

  They traveled through the woods for the next half hour before making their way back to the road. The cows were gone, but Tathan and Anilyia kept an alert eye on others they passed after that. She considered herself very tolerant to deal with mad cows along with everything else.

  When they hadn’t reached another village by dinner, Anilyia’s morale took a complete dive. She was weary from all of it: the danger, the killing, the rain, the hostility, the lack of a bath, the antagonistic cows . . . A part of her just wanted to get off the horse and cry.

  “Tooby ooby walla nooby abba nabba,” Tathan said, pointing at a side road. She looked closer and saw what looked to be a wagon stuck in the mud. The horse that was supposed to be pulling it lay on its side and two men were standing next to it with hands on hips and heads bowed.

  Tathan turned onto the path. Looks of concern crossed the men’s faces. The older of the two stood in front of the younger and both had hands on the hilts of daggers. Anilyia wondered how people could be so hard and fearful in the rural areas of the kingdom when, by all indications, King Cranwer was running a successful, rich kingdom.

  She could see that they were father and son. Both had dirty blonde hair and wore sturdy, but plain clothes. The father looked to be in his thirties while his son was in his late teens. Anilyia supposed they were handsome enough for peasants. Sometimes she thought about what it might be like to be a farmer’s wife and always concluded that it would be dreadful.

  “We don’t have valuables worth stealing and our horse died, so . . . that’s not worth anything.” The older man gestured toward the horse. Tathan looked to Anilyia to speak for them.

  “We’re not thieves . . . well . . . he is,” she said, motioning at Tathan. “But . . . well . . . we’re not going to steal anything . . . are we?” she asked Tathan. She hoped not. While she didn’t like peasants, she didn’t wish them to suffer. Happy peasants were always better than miserable ones.

  The men stepped back, looking more worried than before. Tathan rolled his eyes and sighed. He dismounted and said, “bolah frim goo ibble.” The men took two more steps back.

  Tathan stopped trying to talk and led his horse to the front of the wagon. The men watched him with worry. The wagon had two posts that normally went on either side of the horse pulling it. He saw that the men had already unhooked the horse from the posts. Both Tathan and Anilyia had ropes on the side of their saddles as part of their gear. He took his, tied one end to the pommel of his saddle and the other to the dead horse’s halter. When he dragged the horse away from the wagon, both men dashed forward to help, one pulling on the rope and the other pulling on the reins
of Tathan’s horse. In short time, they had it out of the way on the side of the road.

  Anilyia dismounted, not to help, but to stretch her legs and rub some feeling into her sore behind. The men seemed quite capable of handling things on their own. Tathan took his horse and tied it outside the far post of the wagon instead of putting it in between. The men frowned in confusion, but shrugged and helped.

  When they were done, Tathan came for her horse. Anilyia grabbed the reins and protested. “Hey! I’m not going to walk!” He put a hand behind her neck and kissed her. It stopped the protest. When he released her, she swayed. “I’m still not walking,” she insisted.

  He grinned, took the horse to the other post and tied it to the outside. The men understood and helped. The father got on the wagon and released the brake. Tathan and the younger man pulled the reins of the horses. With a loud squelch, the wagon pulled from the mud and rolled back onto the road.

  There wasn’t any way Anilyia was going to walk, so she crossed her arms and remained on the side of the road, ready to stay there until she fell over dead. “Come, Milady,” the father called out to her, holding out his hand.

  He obviously meant for her to ride next to him on the seat of the wagon, but that wasn’t an acceptable solution either. Tathan came around to the side and put his fingers together down low to give her a step up. She glared at him before deciding it was better than walking. Anilyia mucked through the sloppy mud and planted her boot into his gloved hands, getting them muddy too. He hefted her up and she was sitting beside the farmer.

  Tathan and the son climbed in the back with the supplies. Anilyia glared straight ahead, arms folded once more. The wagon seat wasn’t wide and it was necessary to sit with the outside of her thigh touching the farmer’s. Were they in Mayncal, he would have been executed for the touch. She decided to let it go this time.

  The farmer snapped the reins, each attached to a horse. They pulled the wagon, but looked indignant at the treatment. Anilyia understood how they felt.

  “I’m Robert and this is my son Mikael,” the father introduced himself. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate the help.”

  Anilyia waited for Tathan to make their introductions before remembering that he wasn’t able. The farmer looked hurt by the lack of response. She sighed. “I’m Princess Anilyia of Mayncal. This is my bodyguard and escort, Tathan.” She waved in the back of the wagon over Tathan’s head.

  Robert stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say. He opened his mouth a few times and then just drove the wagon. Occasionally, he would turn and open his mouth without saying anything. Tathan fell asleep, managing to avoid the lack of conversation altogether.

  A half hour down the road, Robert turned onto a path leading to a large house surrounded by two smaller ones and two barns. There were fields on either side with bales of wheat. People came out of the houses as the wagon pulled up. “Papa, what happened to the horse?” one of the young girls asked.

  Robert answered, “He fell over dead. These nice . . . people helped us out.” He got down from the wagon and pointed at a couple of the boys. “Billy, Junior, you two take good care of these horses and make sure they get fed.” Robert reached up to help Anilyia down. She accepted his hand and jumped to the ground. When her legs buckled, he wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from hitting the ground face first. She extricated herself from his arms as quickly as possible and glared at him.

  He held his arms up in a gesture of peace. Anilyia looked for Tathan. “Tathan? Are you there?” she asked in concern.

  Tathan sat up in the back of the wagon and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Mabibble honk to the wibble,” he answered. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  “Who is this, dear?” a matronly woman asked, coming up to Robert and putting an arm around his waist. She looked to be about the same age as Robert. Her hair was brown with traces of gray and she wore a heavy apron over her sturdy dress.

  “These good people helped us get unstuck and let us use their horses to pull the wagon back.” Robert gestured at Anilyia. “She says she’s Princess Anilyia of Mayncal and tells us that’s her bodyguard in the wagon.”

  The woman laughed in disdain. “Oh really? Our humble farm graced by royalty? What an honor!” She bent her knees in a mockery of a curtsy. The people around them laughed. Anilyia glared. If she could have cut the woman’s head off with her eyes, she would have. The woman noticed the look. “Oh, she’s a testy one, isn’t she?”

  Robert wasn’t laughing. He squeezed his wife to him. “I’m not certain she isn’t a princess, Sheila. Look at the quality of her clothes and the gold jewelry.” She raised an eyebrow in response and appraised Anilyia in a new light.

  “Nah, she’s not a princess, and that’s not a bodyguard,” a muscled young man about a year older than Mikael claimed. He was pointing at Tathan who was limping up to Anilyia’s side. “I could take him easy.”

  Tathan responded by drawing his sword, jumping forward and holding the tip of the blade to the man’s stomach. Once again, all eyes were on the sword that drank light. Anilyia really didn’t want anymore killing. “Tathan, please?” He responded by sheathing Lightdrinker in one fluid motion. Anilyia sighed wearily. “I just want our horses back so we can get to the next town. I need a bath and a good night’s sleep.”

  “Stay here. It’s miles to the next town in either direction and we’ve food and a room. I’ll have the girls set you up a bath even,” Robert suggested.

  “Robert? . . . Are you certain?” Sheila asked.

  “I think so. They’re not wearing normal clothes,” he answered, pointing at the way Anilyia and Tathan were dressed. “That’s not a normal sword, that’s not a normal necklace and . . . I think she’s telling the truth.” He pointed at Tathan’s sword and Anilyia’s necklace.

  “More importantly, they helped us when we were in a bad position, Mother,” Mikael said. He had his arm around a pretty woman his age. They looked like husband and wife.

  Sheila nodded. “That’s what’s important then. The lot of you get a bath ready with warm water,” she told a group of girls ages nine to fourteen. Turning back to Tathan and Anilyia she said, “Dinner will be ready soon. We’ve just been waiting on the men. You’ll eat and then we’ll give you beds for the night. Princess or not, you’ll not be telling me no, is that clear?”

  Anilyia didn’t answer. Nobody bossed her around . . . except Liselle, but she wasn’t human. Sheila saw that there wasn’t going to be a winner in the contest of wills. Pointing a thick finger, she said, “See that your bodyguard doesn’t go around stabbing my boys.” Then she turned and headed back to the house with a grunt.

  The princess turned to Tathan. “Don’t stab any of her boys. Is that clear?”

  “Mabibble honk to the wibble,” Tathan answered. That was good enough for Anilyia and she followed Sheila to the house.

  The next hour was a blur for the exhausted princess. Mikael’s wife decided to become her best friend. The women took care of Anilyia much like handmaidens would. She was bathed and put in a dry dress one of the women loaned her while the traveling clothes were cleaned. When they took her down to dinner, she saw that the men had done the same thing with Tathan. The blood was gone and he was wearing simple clothes, though the sword was still around his waist.

  The food was amazing and there was plenty for everybody. Someone had baked pies that made Anilyia’s mouth water. Tathan ate slowly though. She discreetly studied him during the meal. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were glassy again. The limp had been getting worse every time he walked and the gibberish hadn’t become anymore intelligible. They needed to get to Liselle as soon as possible. If they could just stay away from sadistic bounty hunters, corrupt innkeepers and friendly peasants in need, they might make it.

  Most of the talk was about mundane events of family life on the farm, like chores. Anilyia was bored.

  “How will we replace the horse, Robert?” Sheila asked.


  “We’ll make enough selling the extra wheat. It’s been a good year,” Robert answered.

  “But we were going to use that money to build new pens for the pigs and buy furniture for Mikael’s house,” she protested. “They’ve got a baby on the way.”

  Anilyia didn’t think they needed any more children. There were kids everywhere. Peasants bred faster than rabbits and it seemed as though they would take over the world sometimes. A crackpot philosopher once told her father that they should let peasants vote for who should be king. Daddy had the idiot killed.

  “I know, dear. A few of us will go to the market in Tillg. I think we can get a good price there on a horse and some furniture,” Robert told her. A few faces brightened at the mention of a trip to the capital.

  “I don’t like it. There’s been sightings of bandits on the road and I don’t want you hurt,” Sheila said.

  The clinking of coins on the table startled everyone. Tathan had tossed gold and silver near Robert, three pieces of gold and twenty of silver. It would buy everything that had been mentioned and more. Anilyia thought it was ridiculous. Ten silver pieces would have bought an excellent workhorse. Tathan stood up and put his hands on the side of his face, indicating he wanted to go to sleep. Then he walked away before anyone could protest.

  Anilyia had just gotten her pie and wasn’t about to leave without finishing it. She was almost full enough to make up for the lack of good meals they had suffered the past few days and that piece would finish the job. The peasant family stared at her, making her uncomfortable. Robert hadn’t touched the wealth of coins.

  “We can’t accept that,” Sheila said.

  “So don’t. I certainly don’t care,” Anilyia replied with a shrug. She took a bite of pie. “This is so good,” she said with a full mouth, pointing at the pie with her fork.

  Sheila shook her head in disapproval. “Well then you should take it back.”

  Anilyia swallowed the bite in her mouth. “You want me to take the pie back? I didn’t have it in the first place. That’s confusing, but it is very good. Did you make it?”