by David Noel
The plan was going perfectly. Marcia would be brought to her in the next few hours and Portia, that little cancer, would be following a couple of hours after that. Then, after spending a day and a couple of nights lost in the woods, alone, and exhausted, she would make the perfect snack for the Black. Then the dragon could begin working on her larger plan.
The High Council was divided and would always be so as long as it contained representatives of every color. Putting an end to this plague of humans was something that she would have to take into her own claws. The humans were like a swarm of locusts, they ate or destroyed everything that they encountered. The great beasts were domesticated or eaten, the great forests were chopped down to build homes and weapons with, even the wild beauty of the land itself was crushed underfoot and turned into rows and rows of crops to feed more humans. Mankind was an invasive species that was destroying the world and she was going to find a way to stop them. Dragons were the true masters of the world and she would do whatever it took to and make the world safe again for her children and her children’s children. But first, there was the problem of the girl who was prophesied to kill her. Portia was her death sentence if the Black didn’t destroy the brat first. There was no point in planning out the next decade if you weren’t going to live out the next year. But she would succeed, the plan was working to perfection and she wouldn’t have to expose herself to any danger at all to accomplish it.
Chapter 29
“The wise man asks the right questions before he starts his journey while the fool jumps in and starts his journey and then keeps asking the question, ‘Why is everything going wrong?’”
The Centurion Guide to Practical Advice –Chapter 8: Proverb 2
Portia led the way down a side corridor that brought them to a simple but comfortable bedroom with two beds, a small fireplace, an armoire, and a small bookcase. It had a door that led out onto a large balcony. He realized that was the balcony that Portia liked to jump to.
"Does the other bed belong to you?" Brendan asked, turning to Portia.
"Yes, but I don’t normally use it. Now that I’ve become a handmaiden I usually sleep in the women’s barracks. It’s not required but it is encouraged, it’s supposed to help us to build loyalty to each other." Brendan nodded.
“I notice that this is the balcony that you like to jump to from the cliff path, do you think you could make the jump going the other way? From the balcony back up to the cliff path?” He asked.
“Probably not,” she answered. “It’s a good fifteen feet from here to the path. It’s a challenging but make-able jump from the path down to the balcony because the path is four feet higher than the balcony, so you’re jumping downhill. It would be an incredible jump going the other way and it would be completely impossible for Marcia.”
“Do you think someone else could make it?” He asked.
“Possibly, if they were an exceptional athlete and traveling very light. There is no way that anyone wearing armor or trying to carry someone else could do it.”
“Climbing down a wall is harder than climbing up one so I would have to say the same thing about climbing down,” Brendan remarked quietly, more to himself than to the two young women. “Nor is there any rope tied off to the balcony that someone might have used to repel down with.” Brendan stood looking at the balcony for several long moments.
"How long ago was it when you last saw Marcia?" He finally asked, turning to Greta.
"Just after dinner, she said she wanted to do some reading, so I walked her back to her room and then sat outside in the antechamber working on my spinning. I was worried about her, since she has been sleeping very poorly of late, so I came back to get her ready for bed about an hour later and she was missing."
Portia felt a pang of guilt at these words, she had been so focused on herself and her own nightmares that she hadn’t even noticed that Marcia was going through something similar. How could she let herself get so wrapped up in her own problems that she didn’t see what was happening to her own sister?
“Look around the room carefully, do either of you see anything missing?”
“I’m almost never in here anymore, I don’t really pay attention to Marcia’s stuff.”
“Her travel clothes and her satchels. She has two of them, a smaller one with her notebooks and papers and a bigger one that holds her “sample” jars as she calls them.”
"That’s interesting. The only way out of the family quarters is through the antechamber where you were spinning. Is that correct?" Greta nodded agreement. "And you double checked all the other rooms in the family quarters, looking under beds and in trunks in case she was hiding for some reason?" Brendan continued.
"Of course!" Yelled Greta, "The only way that she could have left without being seen is through one of the balconies. I even hung out over the edge of each of the balconies so I could look below them to see if she fell. She wasn’t there, she’s gone! That is how I know that Tauschung took her. Only it could have flown in and carried her off. I am not a fool."
“In the interest of being thorough, Let’s look through the other rooms again,” Brendan suggested. Greta threw her hands up in despair but turned and led the way. Brendan could see that Portia was deep in thought. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted she looked until that moment. Something had her deeply worried, more worried than about a little sister who might be playing hide and seek somewhere, and it had clearly been going on for some time. There was no telling when was the last time that she had gotten a good night’s sleep.
Greta led them through the rest of the family quarters, looking under beds and in wardrobes. Brendan noted that the quarters were arranged in a big circle around the top floor of the keep with a small central courtyard to let air and light in. In addition to the two bedrooms there were a couple of storage rooms, a treasury room, a small study, a small library, and the antechamber that served as a living room and personal chapel. Marcia was nowhere in any of the rooms.
“I’ve got to go find Marcia, myself,” Portia said quietly to Brendan. “My parents don’t need to deal with this distraction right now.”
“No, we’ve got to go find Marcia together.” He corrected.
“No! This is something that I have to do by myself,” she replied crossly.
“No, we will do it together or not at all.” Brendan said firmly. “I am not giving you the option of going by yourself. Your father left me here to help take care of you and your mother because he suspected that something like this might happen. I will come along.”
“You’ll ruin everything!”
Something very strange was going on and Brendan didn’t understand it but somehow her father had anticipated it. He paused, that was it, that was the key.
“Do you trust your father?”
Portia looked like she had just been slapped when he asked that question.
“Yes!”
“Then trust your father. He pulled me out of all of the knights and squires to stay here and help you because he felt in his spirit that my ‘unusual talents’ would be important. Trust his judgment and let me do what he asked me to do, let me help you.”
Portia glared at him and clenched her fists but then she forced herself to take several deep breaths and relax. She turned to the governess.
"Greta, you will say nothing about this to my parents for now. Hundreds of people inside this castle are depending upon my mother to make the right decisions to defend us from an attack that may be coming very soon. Tens of thousands of people are depending upon my father to be focused in his defense of the Eastern Marches. Neither one needs to be distracted with this right now; neither my father nor my mother can spare any troops to look for her. Every single sword and bow will be needed to deal with the Hungarians. Brendan and I will find my sister. My father is leaving even as we speak but you may tell my mother about Marcia if we have not found her by tomorrow evening." Greta looked uncomfortable with the idea of delaying.
"Who will be held responsibl
e for Marcia's disappearance?" Brendan asked quietly as he looked out over the balcony. Greta swallowed hard knowing that she was the one who would have to face the Gray Lady for what had happened. "Perhaps then, giving us a single day is not too much to ask. She may just be playing a game and how would it look if we interfered with the defense of the entire region by crying wolf over a child playing hide and seek? If we can find her quickly it works out the best for everyone." Greta nodded. "Why don't you go back to your room and leave us to plan what we should do next." The governess lingered for a moment, looking at both of them, and then turned and left.
After she was gone Brendan turned and faced Portia. "Where is the other exit out of these quarters?"
“How did you know there was another exit?" Portia asked with a frown.
"This castle is built in a frontier area where attack is to be expected. No noble family would trap themselves in quarters with only one exit. Since there is no obvious second exit, it follows that the second exit must be secret." Brendan answered very matter-of-factly.
Portia shook her head in wonderment. "I will never understand how your brain works."
Brendan looked at her sharply for a moment trying to determine if he had been complimented or criticized before deciding that it didn't matter. "Where is the secret exit?"
She led the way into her parents' bedchamber and over to the armoire. She pulled on a hidden latch on the inside and the back panel pulled forward revealing a small staircase leading down that was somehow squeezed into the wall space.
"My parents only told me about it last year when they felt sure that I could keep a secret. Apparently, they are of the opinion that the more people who know about a secret the less of a secret it is. I don't know how Marcia knew about it, she probably discovered it by accident sometime when she was playing in my parents' bed chamber."
"Where does it go?" He asked.
"Down to the loft above the stable."
Brendan nodded, "That’s a very good spot. Who designed this castle?"
"My great grandfather started building it, my grandfather expanded it and was the designer for most of what you see now, and my father renovated and upgraded it by adding scorpion mounts in the towers and the running water and sewer system," Portia said proudly. “We are a family of knightly engineers.”
She stepped into the stairway and started to descend, Brendan followed and tried to imagine her father squeezing his large frame down the narrow passage. He suddenly realized that the stairway had never been designed with Sir Gerard in mind. If their quarters were ever attacked the Iron Knight fully expected to die defending the antechamber as long as possible to give his family time to escape, the stairs were designed with women and children in mind and to slow down any soldiers who might be in pursuit.
The stairs were dark and unlit, the only light coming from the open door into the bedroom above. They followed the curve of the stairs down far enough that Brendan could no longer judge how far they had gone. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Portia found his hand in the darkness and guided it to her shoulder.
“Hold on to me and follow me exactly. There are a couple of hidden obstacles in this passage that are meant to slow down pursuers, they aren't deadly, but they are painful, so you’re going to have to trust me on this. He gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
“Lead the way.”
She led him in what felt like a slight zig-zag pattern through the blackness of the corridor before pulling up short. His hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept him from plowing into her.
"There’s a covered peephole," She explained as she fumbled around looking for it. After a moment Brendon saw a tiny shaft of light appear in the darkness. Portia peeked out, "All clear," she announced as she gently pushed the door open.
Brendan noticed that a heavy bar that was normally used to secure the door from the inside was leaning up against the wall. Somebody had gone out this way recently and left the door unsecured. Still, the bar looked heavy and would have been difficult for a twelve-year-old child to remove from its place barring the door. Marcia had either been highly motivated to get out or else she had not gone out alone.
Portia slipped quietly out into the dim loft, moving like a ghost. For the hundredth time Brendan marveled at the catlike smoothness of her movements. He moved like that, but he had spent years learning how, she did it naturally. Here and there Portia stopped, knelt, and peered down through the floorboards into the stable itself. In one spot she stopped and knelt, looking down. After a moment she signaled to Brendan to come.
"Marcia's horse is missing," she whispered pointing at an empty stall that was barely visible through the space between two floorboards. The two took a long look at each other. This was bad. Up until now he had assumed that Marcia had simply snuck out to explore the stairway or run around the castle. If she took her horse that meant she was going somewhere outside of the castle.
"Maybe one of the grooms saw her leave," suggested Brendan quietly.
"Let's go find out," replied Portia. She went back over to the stairway and indicated that he should wait there. She quickly climbed the stairs and he heard her shutting the door at the top. She came back down the stairs, shut the peephole and then carefully closed the door. Brendan saw that from this side it looked like a wooden rack for hanging ropes and tools on. Portia led the way to the ladder that would take them down into the stable. A quick peek showed that the stable was momentarily clear so they both climbed down the ladder and went to investigate the horse's stall.
"The horse is missing and so is the bridle, saddle, and saddlebags," muttered Portia. She chewed on her lip trying to figure out what it meant.
"She packed for a trip somewhere and not just a little ride through the countryside around the castle." Brendan said, thinking out loud. This hardly cleared things up for Brendan however, in fact, things were muddier than before. This was not just a young girl off exploring, nor was it a simple kidnapping. None of the pieces seemed to fit together in this puzzle. Brendan had started off thinking that there was a simple explanation behind Marcia's disappearance, but now he had a growing concern that this was a much darker and more complicated event than it had appeared to be at first. Sir Gerard might be right.
One of the grooms walked in and stopped short when he saw the two of them standing in the empty stall. He took a long look back at the open stable door as if trying to figure out how they had slipped past him and gotten inside. He finally turned back around with a puzzled expression.
"May I help you Miss Portia?"
"Yes, where is Lilly Belle?" Brendan's eyebrows rose. Portia shot him a dark look as if to say, “Don't look at me I didn't pick that name”.
"We were trying to figure that out ourselves miss. It was here an hour ago. Miss Marcia must have taken her out when everyone was watching the rider come in.”
"We need you to prepare our horses for us. We will be back in a few minutes." She and Brendan walked out of the stable. The grounds inside of the castle were large enough to ride a horse around in, but not so large that something the size of a horse could go unnoticed. Brendan was genuinely impressed at how quickly the knights and squires had packed up and left but this was not unusual for them. The lack of people in the bailey just made it that much more obvious that Marcia and Lilly Belle had left the castle.
Chapter 30
There is a time to stand alone and a time to seek help and it is wisdom to know when to do which. Do not be slow to seek help when it is needed.
The Centurion Handbook of Combat – Heart and Mind: Chapter 4
"We must get our equipment together quickly and leave, the sun will be setting soon and the gates will be locked," Portia said with a desperate tone creeping into her voice. Brendan nodded and, without saying another word, headed off toward the guardroom in the keep where he had just stored his belongings. Portia turned and hurried back up to the family quarters. She was still convinced that she was supposed to do this alone and that bringing B
rendan along would just get him killed. Her brain was desperately trying to find a way to escape from the squire and get out of the castle alone, but her heart was desperately wanting him to come along so she wouldn’t have to face her nightmares alone. His words kept ringing in her ears, “Do you trust your father?” She did, so she knew that she needed to trust his wisdom now as well.
She ran through the antechamber from the storage area as Greta was stepping out of her own room.
"What? Wait, where... how...", she heard the governess trying to ask in surprise as she rushed past. Portia didn't bother to try and explain. She ran into her parent's room and slammed the door behind her. She crossed over to her mother's ancient chest in the corner. She pulled out her mother's old armor that she had worn in her youth; it was triple linked, mail and plate, forged by the legendary Master Gunderson from the very best altum steel, and as such, was far better protection than Portia’s own double linked hauberk. If she had to face a dragon or a horde of Hungarians, she desperately wanted that extra protection. The problem was that Portia didn’t have her mother’s slender frame. Master Gunderson had created this unique design that contained contoured steel plates attached to a chain mail backing shaped to fit her mother’s body in her youth. Lady Evelyn at 24 did not have Portia’s shoulders, arm muscles, or torso, heck, she didn’t even have as much bust as Portia did, which wasn’t much. The armor was also designed to be worn over thin gambeson padding and she already knew that she wouldn't fit into the armor wearing a gambeson. Portia’s hope was that she might fit into her mother's armor if she didn't wear the extra padding but try as she might she couldn’t squirm into the armor even without the gambeson. She cursed her body for the thousandth time, completely forgetting Dr. Zhen’s lesson. Why couldn't she have that slender, graceful build that all the other shieldmaidens had? That her mother used to have? Portia grunted in frustration.
